Team Registration: The Wanderers

[Flames of Hyperion]

Team Name: Sasurai

Team Members:
Yuka "Elerrina" Kanamai
Lask Ventrist

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Continuity be damned. There's a lot between now and whatever else Nirvana tends to step into; so let's say that Lask and Nirvana are...'friends' in a sense that they won't kill each other. Tiddles is a friend unto himself. Apologies for posting our team reg under a different account, but it's really us!

The trip was shorter than he’d expected – much shorter. As in, not a few weeks, but a matter of seconds from stepping into the home-made portal to stepping out into the greeting area of the Garden of Secrets, luggage still in hand and ticket still in mouth. Lask glanced around suspiciously, forgetting the simple notion that he had to actually move off the platform before the next person came through and barely moved when something hit him in the back. There was an outburst of swearing in various different languages, and with an air of complete serenity, he stuck out a hand and caught the cat-carrier as it came hurtling through the swirling vertical pool of mist. The rim of gold chimed one last time, and gathering the luggage in his free hand, one of the first Wyrmfolk ever to enter such a competition stepped off the dais and allowed the woman behind him to fall into an indiscreet puddle on the floor. The swearing didn’t stop exactly, but it did quieten.

The area itself, Lask noted, was very open; leafy, and very…colourful. He squinted a little in the light, lashing his tail unconsciously as he took it all in and in turn – realised he was being stared at by many of the other new-comers arriving by golden-portal. Down the ‘hall’ of smooth grey tiles and walls of trees, discreet cafes, armouries and of course a carpet of leaves and berries were more of the carved golden rings, floating in mid-air beside each dais, gently rotating and adjusting for each new-comer. The magic was thick enough to be cut with a knife if he so tried, but it was a neat trick; and he watched in amusement as their portal readjusted itself – tiny rings moving along the grooves on the surface – up and down before the next lot of people were vomited into the world.

“Where’s Tiddles?”

Ah. His traveling companion, the ever present, ever frustrating Nirvana was clinging to him with a green cast to her pale face, her long dark hair in limp locks around her face. Her odd eyes – odd even to a member of the Wyrmfolk race – were darting about suspiciously as she wriggled her fingers around the tree-trunk of his arm and bore her teeth at those that stared a little too closely, the chain around her waist clinking against that bloody lantern she always had with her.

“He’s in the carrier.”

“The hell he is.”

Oh dear. Lask gently moved an elbow out to push Nirvana out of the way of the dropping luggage and he peered into the cage on his other hand. Yes indeed, empty. “Bugger.”

“He’ll turn up. Traveling by portals isn’t his thing.”

“He’s a devious beast and a messenger, if I recall you drunkenly telling me, of the gods. I’d rather he be under lock and key if it’s okay with you.”

“One god. Who’s a fag.” She turned her nose up disdainfully.

Lask rolled his eyes. “That’s not a very nice word.”

“I don’t care. He left me here! He’s a fag and you can’t tell me otherwise, I know he’s been having illicit affairs with the God of Making.”

“Your Gods are not my Gods.”

”Thank Me for that!” Nirvana withdrew, folding her arms and looking like a petulant child. “You mortals have no bloody idea what it’s like up there. You think we’re all in the same place, and I tell you, you ever lived with the God of Wine? Have you? Have you ever been up at three in the morning because he’s power-vomiting in the Garden of Everlasting Peace and Fluffy Bunnies? It’s worse than a student house.”

He couldn’t exactly disagree with that, what with his own upbringing and experiences.

“And I tell you…when Lord Silver o’ Thorn gets tipsy and decides to take a gander at Smith Zenfyre, I can tell you; I envy their stamina.”

Lask winced.

The familiar of the WinterGod decided to make his appearance right then and there, and winding his way sinuously out from beneath a table of elven warrior princesses and one very embarrassed troll, Mister Tiddles trotted over to them, tail high in the air and face alight with expectation. They shared a look, cat and lizard, that was the unspoken bond between men when a woman in both their lives is about to be trying. In fact, Nirvana did indeed push the poor former Henchman aside and stomp her way to the nearest café, filled with all types of people that Lask was completely out of depth with. “I NEED FOOD, AND I NEED IT NOW. OUT OF MY WAY, PEONS.”

The wizard at the emporium – Jay, if Lask remembered correctly, the whole thing was fuzzy as all heck – had asked him to keep an eye on Nirvana. He hadn’t explained why, but his very attractive, and very not-normal wife Daphne had been much more explicit. Nirvana was not at all what she seemed. And she could get herself into a lot of trouble in this world. Wizards tended to see a lot of this sort of thing, and Jay knew better than to doubt the word of a man who’d been able to better the spells of his former Master, Anton Wyrmtongue. Anton was a powerhouse. Jay was…a mystery wrapped in a neckbearded enigma.

And all this business with gods and wishes – how else had they found out about this weird place, and these people and the portal tickets? Jay was up to something.

Unless he was here strictly to make sure Nirvana couldn’t wish for something incredibly stupid.

There was a yell from inside the canopy, and Lask grunted painfully, with Tiddles echoing his upset wince.

In her haste to find her mentioned food, she had carelessly tramped over everything – including someone’s luggage. Lots of people’s luggage, in fact. And as she tipped Lask’s money bag – when in hell had she lifted that?! – all over the counter and frowned at the poor boy that had to face her, there was the ominous tinkle of something precious that had been broken. Between them, the lizard and the mortal, someone stood up…

[Wings of Endymion]

Yeah, my fault... apologies all around >< Continuity dictates that this occurs sometime before the second chapter of the FQ... if nothing else, it's abuse of liquid time at its best ^^

Roughly speaking, there were two types of magic portals capable of transporting a person instantaneously to a completely different location… the stable, static kind such as those seen all over Haidia and Salvar, and the other, random and dynamic, less-inclined-to-behave-according-to-physical-or-arcane-law kind. From the moment her stomach had been suddenly wrenched in four hundred different directions at once, accompanied by that sickening sensation of falling without end, Yuka Kanamai had decided that she had chanced upon one of the latter. What was supposed to have been a simple fact-finding trip to Hrenta Nodos had taken a decided turn for the worse.

There had been absolutely no warning whatsoever, which made her glad that she never went anywhere without first being fully prepared. Thomas laughed at her for it, deriding it as a “woman’s fussy nature”, but glancing at the staff in her hand and the haversack containing all her essentials on the floor, the young Nipponese woman felt quietly vindicated. It wasn’t often that one emerged from an unexpected portal trip with their wits in one piece, but Yuka had, and that very fact was enough to give her some small confidence.

Now to figure out where I am…

Taking two deep breaths and bracing herself for the worst, she’d headed into the building in front of which she had emerged. Of course, this was after she had spent nearly ten minutes rejoicing in the blue of the sky and the green of the trees in a giddy, almost childish manner; she had spent so long in the underworld that she had almost forgotten what such earthly pleasures looked like. The aforesaid building, conveniently enough, had turned out to be a café… perfect for sitting quietly and gathering information.

“Rule number one of what to do when you find yourself in strange places…” she had remarked to herself, noting that she was beginning to sound like Ingwe when she said things like that. He had always been the archetypal scholar. “Stay calm and listen…”

Just as she was thanking her stars that the occupants of the cramped room at least spoke Tradespeak, her thoughts were interrupted. Specifically, by a loud declaration of “PEONS”, the unwelcome noise of somebody literally forcing their way through a crowd and bumping nastily against her back in the process, and a very blatant, very ill-omened tinkle.

… uh-oh…

Yuka didn’t even need to look around to know that the atmosphere had just taken a decided turn for the worse. The eyes of those about her seemed to harden into crystal, stabbing daggers into the tables, the walls, the chairs, even her back. Doubtless they all were seasoned warriors or better; the elven amazons at the next table looked like they took down dragons for breakfast, and the troll that accompanied them, no matter how embarrassed he was by the company he was keeping, was at least three times her size and bore a massive war-axe that doubtless split entire oak trees in half. Her first instinct was to stay small and hope that it would all blow over, that the young man behind the counter would…

“Oi! Datz ma strengd poshun ya jus’ broked!”

Cue the entrance of an eight-foot tall, hulking monstrosity of an orc, decked out in mismatched plate armour and wielding a brutally chipped cleaver still stained with the blood of its previous victims. Yuka instantly knew that the armour was only for decoration, the cleaver was little more than a tertiary weapon, and the one who wielded both of these items was very, very angry.

The reason why she realised all this was simple; not only was she within touching distance of said orc, she was also in his path to get at the culprit… who Yuka now saw to be a dark-haired, freckled woman all of three inches taller than her and much, much curvier. Incidentally, the woman showed absolutely no sign of remorse… or of even acknowledging the brutish greenskin at all.

Never before had Yuka risen so quickly to her feet. With a flashed smile at the orc that she hoped would at least buy her some time, she turned towards the taller woman, noting immediately the distinctive eyes. Yuka had seen stranger – she had just spent the previous year in the company of daemons, after all – but somehow just looking at them unnerved her greatly.

“Perhaps you’d better apolo…”

The young woman never managed to finish her sentence. Her gambit with the orc had bought her all of two seconds… unfortunately, nowhere near what she had hoped for. Impatient as only one of his kind could be, when no immediate response was forthcoming he let loose a massive “WAAAAGHH” that stunned half the patrons of the café and brought the other half to their full fighting senses. With no further ado, he picked up the nearest table – heedless of its contents and completely ignoring the quintuplet of gnomes sitting there – and proceeded to effortlessly hurl it at the strange-eyed woman.

And Yuka, who just happened to be in its path.

There was only one thing she could do to dodge the heavy oaken missile, and she had less than a split second to make up her mind. Regrettably, it involved tackling the other woman, managing just enough momentum from a standing start to knock them both out of harm’s way…

… ending up in an untidy tangle on the floor, just as the entire room erupted in a violent furore.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Lask's eyes went wide as he watched the awful sweeping motion of the orc as it stood and brandished it's massive weapon, looking down at his traveling companion with the intention to maim, splatter and kill. There was a moment of sympathy with it too, as Nirvana had that effect on people...

But hey, innocent people and all. Poor, unsuspecting cafe. Ooh, there goes a table...

Lask shot forward with the fluid purpose born from hours of training, mistakes and being the Last Man Alive (tm) in many a campaign of his former employers. The sword was too big to use here, and as Nirvana was pushed aside by one of the patrons, he pulled out his own axe and swung. The aim wasn't entirely true, and he hadn't hit the grain (that took great skill, and he hadn't gotten to that point in bar brawls back home) but somehow the blade slipped onto a stress point and at least cracked the damn table enough for it to break somewhat harmlessly against the outside area and out of the way of the rest of the patrons. All of whom were rising up and pulling out all kinds of interesting things.

You really are the Goddess of Chaos, aren't you. He thought miserably as twisted the axe around to meet blade with blade as the Orc swung down, stepping over the tangle of girls. Not an Orc he recognised, which would make negotiations that much harder. Damn it! Nirvana continued to hiss and spit on the floor like an alley-cat, beneath the little woman who had saved her ungrateful arse...

The first blow rebounded with a massive clang as the notched cleaver connected with the metal of the axehead, having enough force to shake Lask and make his ear-drums ring. He gasped, swept his tail down to push Nirvana and her rescuer out the way to notice that the girl was already getting up - was she a fighter? Oh hell's bells!

A moment later he felt claws up his tail and back and Tiddles shot past him, leaped into the face of the orc and propelled him backwards. The critter was generally being a nuisance- not using enough claws to cause that much damage but providing a window of opportunity to escape. It came only a moment too soon; it knocked out one of the lanterns at the ceiling, causing it to drop to the floor and leave everything in odd semi-dark, with only the light from outside to tell friend from foe. And considering the contents of said cafe? It was all they needed. Instinctual rivalries met with egos and the general 'pride of a warrior' to result in a rather large fight. In the corner of his eye Lask saw a dwarven warrior - female by the looks of the beard - take the opportunity to kick the legs out from beneath one of those elven ladies, the troll beset by a few gnomes and a human warrior tangling with...what the hell was that? No, seriously! What the-

An arrow shot between Orc and Wyrm, breaking Lask's concentration and the barkeep started to yell the kind of profanities Lask hadn't heard since the docks. He reached down, grabbed Nirvana with his free hand and held her tightly around the waist, ignoring the drumming of her fists against his side and back and the kicking of her legs out front.

"LADY! WE CAN'T FIGHT IN HERE. NIRVANA, QUIT IT, SERIOUSLY. TIDDLES! FALL BACK! I AM NOT GETTING ANOTHER BAR ON MY DAMN DEBT THANK YOU!"

Because everyone knows the henchmen are the first who get their pay docked when it comes to repairs. They're the ones that do the damage, of course.

He stepped over a couple of chairs, his tail a third hand as he gently - but firmly - swept those gnomes aside and ignored their teeth against his scales, and unjustly threw Nirvana by a trellis to watch her monkey-roll to her feet, cradling her bloody lantern-soul. "STAY." He roared, and even the gnomes obeyed.

He couldn't use his bombs in here. Axe wouldn't provide all that much protection. A furry streak shot out from beneath the canopy and made for the closest tree as a bottle of cheap booze exploded onto the tiles, followed by a splatter of what could be blood. The Orc was wading through all of it like it was nothing, covered in cat-hair and making faces as he pointed at Lask and drew his finger across his throat.

Lask drew his sword, vaguely pleased he at least had open air. "Help? Anyone?" He asked the world, weakly.

[Wings of Endymion]

The lights. They always have to go for the lights… Yuka grumbled groggily to herself as she scrambled to her feet from the hard and slightly sticky floorboards. Out loud, she might have involuntarily loosed a couple of quiet expletives in her native tongue, but since nobody could actually understand her, they didn’t count… did they…? A stinging pain on her forearm let her know that the other lady hadn’t gone down quietly; yep, those were scratch marks all right. The young woman made a face at them as she swiftly gathered her wits.

A quick glance about her was more than enough to let Yuka know that the situation had deteriorated… quite remarkably so, in fact.

Oooh, this is why I hate adventu… in the name of yomi, what in…!? The last of the phrase was directed at a shapeless figure that was drawing the vilest of human screams from a leather-clad warrior not so far away. In the dim light it was either a furry tentapod or a…

Without a second thought she gave the thing a solid whack on its “head” with her staff. Then, instincts got the better of her and she slipped away from the crowded confines of the counter – and the many-sided brawl going on there – and into the open.

“Oh, that’s better…” she relaxed slightly, breathing deeply of the fresh air and heedless of how her words would sound to the draconian warrior who had dragged away from the mess the instigator of it all, that strange-eyed dark-haired lady. Her respite lasted for but a moment, however, as she noticed that his reptilian eyes seemed to be focused behind her rather weakly…

Or maybe not, Yuka sighed as she felt, rather than saw, the bloodthirsty menace of the orc emerging purposefully from the café after her. In an instant, her choices were narrowed to two, and one of them wasn’t really an option; she couldn’t really just abandon everything, could she? Allowing a possibly misguided sense of responsibility to get the better of her, Yuka did the most sensible thing she could, given the circumstances.

Hi, my name is… “Yuka Kanamai,” she gasped, popping up behind the wyrmfolk warrior and clutching her staff close to her chest with both hands. Could you please… “Hold him off?” …for a short while? was her next question as she gave him her most trusting look – she had no idea of how it would work on draconians, but with any luck he saw the merit in their temporary alliance as well.

Oh, and…

“Please try not to fall asleep?”

Focusing her powers on the unfathomably swirling melee in front of her – and on that hulking brute of an orc in particular – Yuka began to trace a symbol upon her palm.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Lask didn’t need telling. The girl was obviously mage-stock – that quiet, bookish look was a tell-tale sign, the staff a dead giveaway and that odd smell of ozone that was around most magic-users was especially pungent. But what did she mean about not falling asleep? A little upsetting, did she feel him that inadequate, or was it a reference to him taking on the orc and it being a breeze?

No, wait a second-

The thoughts clamoured in his head as he calmly moved around the girl and put her in the line of defense, and brought the sword up, turning the hilt in his hands to let the flat of the blade take the brunt of the first blow. The Orc had decided that not only was the cleaver a good weapon, but his fists – clad with the most ill-looking and malicious gauntlets Lask had ever seen – would probably suit as well. And they did! The blade rang as the first hit connected, and Lask grunted, digging his talons into the dirt and shifting slightly to the left as the cleaver was swung upwards to catch his arm. Said arm was whipped backwards and out of the way, and with a growl of spite and using his tail to support himself, Lask kicked the blade out of the dirt, showering the Orc with seeds, dust and the occasional pebble which it didn’t appreciate at all. The swings were too wild, too unfocused. And it was too close to use any kind of explosive here, which was bad-wait, hang on-

His neck-scales were tingling as the girl continued her work behind him. How long would it take for her to cast the spell? Could he hear her chanting or was that just some other poor creature in some other stupid fight muttering something to attack another?

The sword was too heavy and without any kind of kinetic force to do any damage, and the damn orc just kept coming. He couldn’t swing. He’d hit her! Evasive action!

Another lunge.

Switching hands at the moment he saw the muscles along the shoulders tense, Lask cast the sword away, blocking the gauntlet with his own muscled forearm. It hurt; something cracked under the force of the blow and a few mottled scales flew off. Keeping the momentum of movement as the Orc plunged forward to the ground and at the feet of the little mage-girl Yuka, Lask pivoted on the leg closest to the tumbling barbarian and planted the other firmly in front of the ankle of his opponent. His free hand slammed into the creature’s back as it toppled over, shoving him to the ground, just in time to see Yuka start to glow…

[Wings of Endymion]

… albeit only for a second, before the power coalesced in her palm and then dissipated into the golden-tinged skies. Yuka had been impressed by the calm and collected manner in which the draconian had dealt with an opponent both bigger than him and hell-bent on wreaking havoc in any way possible. Now, however, it was her turn to act.

“Magen… Nehan Shouja!”

The words were only whispered, but they seemed to carry through the air with little effort whatsoever. Pervasive and invasive, the young woman’s power ensured that they infiltrated the minds of everybody in that café, and once there, the effects of her magic began to take hold.

Amongst the shattering glass and splintering wood now drifted visions of soft white feathers, floating slowly from the skies above. Time seemed to slow and waver, bloodshot vision beginning to blur as eyelids drooped heavy with sleep. Swords paused mid-stroke, words of power slipped away from nerveless tongues, and even the most stalwart of minds blinked once at the sudden intrusion.

Some shrugged it off without a second thought and resumed hostilities. Others, unable to resist the comforting hallucinations of snugly pillows and warm blankets, drifted off into oblivion mid-fight. One – the innocent-looking young man who had been manning the counter – suddenly decided he’d had enough and transformed into his true form. Where once had cowered a plain freckle-sprinkled boy now towered a multi-hued daemon, bird-faced with malevolent eyes, screaming its anger towards the heavens and violently setting about those who dared to disturb its territory.

Yuka finally opened her eyes, feeling the last vestiges of the spell she had just cast flow from her mind. Somehow, the din of the brawl seemed so muted, the scene as it played out before her gaze so surreal and bizarre. Closest to her was the wyrmfolk warrior who had provided her protection, looming over the orc who had been so upset about his smashed strength potion. In what remained of the café beyond were what remained of its occupants; the four gnomes still frozen by the draconian’s roared command, three elven princesses battling a female dwarf and giving as good as they got in both sword and curse, a shy troll who had fallen asleep with a beatific smile upon his face while watching them… the list went on and on. She had to reach up and pinch herself to convince her mind that she wasn’t still dreaming.

Deep breaths, Yuka…

Then her hands wrapped themselves tightly around her staff once more. After all, it wouldn’t do to be defenceless if that darned brute of a greenskin suddenly decided to get up again, would it…?

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

It was that half-sleep that was so unbelievably pleasant, and annoying, and weird, where you were aware of your surroundings but your body was as still as stone - how many times over pages of equations and chemical math had he done such a thing? And why was it so comforting to happen now?

Lask smiled in a dazed, happy way, looking up at Yuka and thinking 'well done' and thinking he'd actually said it when his mouth - and vocal chords, as Wyrmfolk don't necessarily have to move their mouth to speak - were as still as stone. Nothing mattered.

Not even the little shower of twigs and leaves, followed by a little waterfall of dark curls spilled over his head. Nirvana, upside down and calmly hanging from a branch that was almost perfect for watching the battle, fixed Yuka with an approving eye.

"Nice spell-slinging, girlie. Although it would have been helpful, oh, thirty seconds earlier."

Bugger it. Why'd she have to be so mean? And where was Tiddles? Lask rolled his eyes comically in the vague hope that even if his mind was as blurry as, as, as a Friday that had become a Saturday morning at the local student pub, he could somehow convey that this was normal and nothing was meant by it.

He was saved by a little squeak from his employer - hah, as if she'd even paid him yet! - and the tearing of fabric as Tiddles decided that his own hiding place - several branches up - was no longer needed and he'd used her as his personal ladder.

"Scumbag! Flea-riddled, wheeling, dealing filthy little-!" The words faded only because he'd torn a piece of her skirt that aptly covered her head. For a moment she just hung there, flailing madly and getting more and more entangled in the cotton.

Tiddles on the other hand alighted gently onto Lask's curved back, wandered up and onto his head, stood there blinking for a moment before giving Yuka a silent miaw of apologies. The orc grunted as the cat used him as the next landing pad and with the curious aloofness all cats seem to possess, Tiddles wound himself around Yuka's legs.

Another rip. Nirvana sneered. "Tiddles, dear. Don't be a turd."

He ignored her. The branch gave a warning creak, and sighing, Nirvana bunched herself up to reach the branch she'd hooked her knees over, and swung down, landing far heavier than Tiddles had done on Lask's back. Now the warrior woke up, dropped to a knee and a hand and turned his head slightly to frown at the woman who now sat, legs crossed and leaves in her hair, a picture of imperfection.

"Say thank you, Nirvana."

"Bugger off. Not saying thanks for anything - she saved your ass, not mine."

She jerked forward as a tail made it's presence known at the small of her back. "Say thank you to the nice lady."

"..." The pout was unbelievably childish. "........................................th'nk you."

[Wings of Endymion]

Yuka would have giggled. Would have, except that her entire body had frozen up as soon as the cat had approached her. Her fear of animals, especially of the canine or feline variety, had been very well documented back in the Academy in Nippon; words turned to ashes in her mouth, nerveless muscles refused to obey frantic commands, and her delicate features turned noticeably pale.

Only when Tiddles – sensing her distress or not, Yuka didn’t really care either way – finally pulled away from her legs was she able to manage a stammered reply.

“No… problem…” she said, her knees wobbling slightly before they gave way and she sank to the ground in a spineless heap, smiling feebly. “The pleasure… was all mine…”

The young woman cast a weak gaze over the aftermath of the scene, the sudden quiet that enveloped the vicinity. Whatever fighting that had escaped her sleep spell had been quelled by the sudden appearance of a twelve-foot daemon in its midst; the café was now populated by the unconscious, those who had been stunned into submission, and those who had never bothered to participate in the brawl in the first place. The acrid stench of charred wood mixed with twin accompaniments of spilt beer and belated fear, but above it all there was the blessed smell of relief about the square as everything roundly settled down into the peacefully boring monotony of regularity once again.

Yuka blinked slowly, then refocused her gaze on the pair she had just… befriended…? Seemingly, the pouting woman and her wyrmfolk guardian were new to this land as well and… she had to start somewhere, didn’t she…?

Not to mention…

The orc grunted again and then twitched mightily from where he lay beneath the draconian. Yuka wasn’t sure whether or not orcs dreamed in their sleep, but she was most certain that she wouldn’t want to be around when it woke up. Not that she had anything against the race in general, of course, it was just that they had a tendency to be rather… confrontational, at times.

“Umm…” she began, again smiling a weak smile and urging her legs back to life, very conscious of the fact that the cat was eying her curiously. With the hand that was not clutching her staff, Yuka indicated a more secluded spot amongst the trees, her cloak sweeping the dry leaves on the ground as it rustled in a light breeze. “Shall we… somewhere a little less conspicuous, perhaps…?”

She looked again at the dark-haired female with the sharp tongue and her warrior companion – who she was rapidly deciding was the more reasonable of the two. Little did she know that their fates would soon be entwined in ways she hadn’t really expected…

[Ataraxis]

As judged by Ataraxis, with scores and comments discussed and agreed upon by Ebivoulya and Tristam, the members of Panel B.

Trial Judging
Team ‘Sasurai’

Greetings, I’ll be your judge this evening. I’ve read the beginning of the thread by accident (as I’d forgotten you had included not only a cut-off, but also a start-off point for your trial), and I’ve read the ending out of curiosity. As was asked, however, I’ll only actually count the contents of the 3rd to 7th posts, though I’ll also be giving you some of the points you’d have gained for continuity in your introductions.

N.B.: Schrödinger, I’ll be calling you Churro, for personal, unrelated reasons. Wings, fortunately, will be called… Wings.

Story – 3.125/5

If I include your first posts, then you did average in terms of continuity. I’ve personally no knowledge of Lask and Nirvana in the FQ, so I won’t be basing it on any of the prior threads (as is the policy, anyway). I got a wagon load of information from both of you, though you both often take all details on this information as granted. I vaguely remember that Lark is traveling with the purported Goddess of Chaos because a wizard said so (an interesting variant to a wizard’s usual actions), but that was cryptic at best. The fact that Lask himself doesn’t understand why, however, does make this less of an issue.

However, all this talk of foreign gods playing romp in the sack, while amusing, was rather confusing at first as there was no ‘easing into’ the very involvement of Gods and a divine messenger in the form of a cat. Wings, you introduced less complex concepts and kept it simple without stinting on being informative, though you did mention a few names (Ingwe, Hrenta Nodos, Nippon, etc.) without elaborating. I know Ingwe is your other character and that he’s a soldier, but his mention is more confounding than helpful. Usually, this can be avoided with just a few words describing: how they know each other, and what they are to each other. The same goes for a location: what is your character’s relation to that place, and what is that place in and of itself?

The setting was present, though not consistently upheld. Naturally, there were many instances where it was described, but you usually focused more on who they saw running around, and what these people were doing. Crowds are definitely part of a setting, but they’re also a bug bunch of characters that need to interact with a setting the same way your characters do. Now I’m not saying you didn’t have such interactions (I can count the table flinging, the lights being snuffed out, the rush outside for a more open area), but I do think the setting itself wasn’t very evocative within those posts (the first two posts had good setting descriptions, but I unfortunately can’t count them).

At most, I remember Wings writing about sticky floorboards and fresh air, and Churro pelting the Orc with seeds and dust from the ground. That made for a somewhat blank stage, which I had to fill with my own vision of the Garden of Secrets (which is only convenient because I wrote it, and so other people might have even less of a clue about the setting). A simple way to resolve this would be to reread your posts and pinpoint where you think there’s a lack of meaningful descriptions, or where your image of the setting starts to tune out and fade.

Lastly, for Pacing, I’d say you two did very well within the 3rd to 7th posts, as I didn’t falter often at all while reading. The only thing that did slow be down was the amount of interruptions in the narrative (look for the dashes and ellipses, and you’ll find these instances). I did like how you continued each other's posts, though.

Character – 3.875/5

Your characters were portrayed very well in this battle. Lask’s dialogue was interesting, though perhaps a bit over the top at times (namely, when he started screaming). In general, since he seemed to share a big load of the narrative work, I got the most of his thoughts in the narration. He’s a very pragmatic person, to be sure, as he always comes up with an accurate – if not slightly cynical – analysis of any situation. There’s a fair bit of humour as well, and he’s not so jaded that he’d ignore impossibly grotesque, otherworldly life forms when he sees one. Yuka was a very good contrast to Lask and Nirvana, being the unassuming but powerful, bookworm spellcaster that she is. You also added quite a bit of good intrigue in her dialogue.

I also thought that the ‘defend the caster’ mindset he had when fighting the orc alongside Yuka was a nice touch. While it is an important strategy in role-playing games, people tend to ignore that in writing. Concomitantly, that means that Wings also did well in the Action category, as he played Yuka very realistically: a power spell-caster that actually does take more than one turn to cast a potent spell. Moreover, the fact that the sleep spell didn’t affect everyone equally (resisted by some, ignored by others) showed a good consideration for balance in her abilities. I also enjoyed the fact that the spell affected Lask.

Writing Style – 3.5/5

You’re both skilled writers with distinct styles: Churro uses a more freeform type of writing, with a lot of comedic value without detracting from the story (save for a few exceptions), while Wings is an interesting and efficient mix of modern and conservative. You both incorporated a decent number of rhetorical devices, what with every observation being accompanied with an amusingly accurate imagery (my favourite part for technique was when Wings described the tavern patrons). Basically, they flow well and complement each other. What you should look out for, however, are interruptions in the narration, where you usually write a witty addition to a prior thought or an uncomfortable pause. As I said before, look for the dashes and ellipses. These are good things to have when their numbers are manageable, but I felt there were a few too many in this case that didn’t exactly add much to your writing.

Mechanics were above average, though you guys should be careful with punctuation and your lax usage of syntax for stylistic purposes. It’s good to write freely, but be wary of sentences that look more like mistakes than intentional misuses of grammar and syntax (most often on the punctuation front). Toning down just a little bit on the chaotic sentences that mimic their thought processes would be a good step. Other lesser mistakes can be found in the notes below.

As for clarity, I sometimes had to reread passages to understand them fully, and these were rarely because of a lack of attention on my part. It might be due to interruptions I mentioned above, or because many paragraphs were hosts to a lot of different, at times unrelated ideas, whereas a single paragraph should have one or two principal ideas at most.

Final Score – 10.5/15!

Notes for Team ‘Sasurai’


Numbers between parentheses are post numbers. Even-numbered posts are Churro, odd-numbered posts are Wings.

was a neat trick; and he watched in amusement (2) a comma would work better here, or you could keep the semi-colon by removing ‘and’.

Also, this isn’t a mistake, but be wary of using too many dashes. They improve the pacing of the reading only to some extent, and start to slow it down when used too often. Since they’re so showy, an abundance of them can weigh the text down. When you feel you’re using too many, check if some can be replaced with commas, or if you need the added effect of isolating an element, make it a fragment (though fragments should also be used sparingly and with care).

Hrenta Nodos (3) Putting this up here in case you don’t elaborate on what Hrenta Nodos is. Just an explanation of what it is (insect infested land? The fantasy Bermuda Triangles?) would be enough.

she’d headed into the building in front of which she had emerged (3) she headed into the building (…). The temporal progression is more obvious like this, and there’s no tense change problem.

sound like Ingwe when she said things like that (3) You don’t really say who Ingwe is. Obviously, it’s your main character, but you can’t expect all your readers to know this. Basically, take no information for granted.

stood and brandished it's massive weapon (4) its

the Last Man Alive (tm) (4) I’ve judged one of your threads before and so I’m familiar with the openness of your style to modern concepts and references. It’s a part of how you write and enjoy writing, so I won’t ask you to remove these, but I’d just like to point out that it does detract from the actual writing when it’s too obvious (which is the case when you use TM for pretty much anything). Subtle musical references are okay if you don’t make them the punchline, but the flavour, so instead of flaunting a reference by capitalizing it, maybe you could try to conceal it a bit: it makes it that much more gratifying for readers when they say ‘Hey, I know that reference – good one, person who wrote this’. Of course, this is merely a suggestion, so do what you will with it!

You really are the Goddess of Chaos, aren't you. He thought miserably as (4) You really are the Goddess of Chaos, aren't you, he thought miserably as (…). An interpolated clause (“…”, he said) is separated from the dialogue by a comma. In the original formulation, your period makes the two elements seem independent from each other.

And Wings, this is just a bit of formatting (and to some extent, grammatical) nitpicking: it’s fine to used ellipses to indicate a pause of uncertainty, but then following with ‘…?’ actually takes the emphasis away. Moreover, there’s a rule saying that, generally, marks of punctuation should not be next to other marks of punctuation, so an ellipse followed by a question mark is usually frowned upon.

In a nutshell, Churro should use fewer dashes, and Wings should use fewer ellipses.