Round One, Bracket A: Sasurai vs. Destined Intervention

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

I've said it in pms, I'm saying it here, I'm the one at fault for the bomb thing because as I was writing I was working off an old draft of Lask's weapons. I couldn't edit it by the time I realized, so it's being amended now. Hopefully this will not bother people.

Over the white-hot pain in his shoulder and his aching side, Lask was dimly aware that words were being spoken. Archon who sounded very, very annoyed. Lask got the general gist of it; but he’d knocked over a few temples - inhabited and un-inhabited - before final exams while still studying. It was pretty much all the same, the only issue was that he’d been left out of the first conversation so the whole rant sounded, to his outer ear at least, pretty damn odd. The threats at least he was used to, but they didn’t mention him by name or were very imaginative which made it more of an afterthought than an actual desire.

So, while his conscious mind was processing all of this, his subconscious was trying to get his attention. It was more important than the ache in his ankles from the hard landing, or the horrible oozy-wet feeling having been shot.

Smoke

It was very much more important than the swirling of magic behind him and the fact his sword arm wasn’t as strong as it was a few minutes ago. It was-

Smoke. That was a smoke bomb.

- definitely more important than the boats, and the people and the -

I don’t carry smoke bombs!

His eyes widened to the soundtrack of Yuka’s melodious cry of “Suishoha!” At his waist, vibrating most insistently, were eleven bombs that were not his handiwork at all, soaking up the ambient magic like sponges and about to tear him in two.

Reeking of ozone, the air was rent apart as the magic took hold and created a pretty damn good wave right then and there in the arena to overturn the other boats. It took a moment to adjust, to dig his talons in and try and steady himself as he tried to gather his wits together as-

“Bugger.”

Another ‘spell’ was cast, this time from Archon’s direction. Yuka, holding yet more secrets as she weathered the rocking from the after-effects of her wave (girl never said she knew boats, she does it so well.) responded with something just as god-like as the conversation before. Only this time, there really was flaming torches.

Which were actually flaming boats, but they were on fire and that was what mattered.

But at this point Lask was not looking at this amazing light show of transformative magic and seductive beauty. He did not notice Yuka gracefully side-step him and spin that arrow out of thin air. No, this meaty lizard’s attention was taken up entirely by straps and buckles, wisps of energy flowing in the wake of his movements and his wounded arm – the throwing one no less – was not so good at this moment in time.

“Ooooarrrrrrshit!” He finally cried out, as buckles came loose, and he could toss the damn thing over hand at the still water behind them both. Maybe Yuka noticed, maybe she didn’t, but the crowd took great interest at this hurled strap of leather, and then lost interest when it decided to explode.

That bloody Nirvana! Masters of Chaos – god or otherwise if he believed her crazy story - should not be allowed to become so inebriated they can no longer control their natural field of power, it just wasn’t on. But, you know, celebrations at all. How was he supposed to know the stupid cow would mess with his equipment? Bloody hell!

So the belt flew in a splendidly crappy arc, only to explode in a spectacular fashion. The smoke remained the same, stinking and oddly thick, but this time, as it spread, it changed. As the crowd tried to get away, the leading edge of the spreading cloud and it’s rain of oddly shaped ash transformed itself into a myriad of emerald green butterflies. The center however became a light rain of miniature custard tarts (with a few reports of lemon ones as well, but that was blamed on the butterflies), which in turn lead to a rather amusing patter of splatting over those that weren’t quick enough to open their mouths for a free feed.

Lask, at this point in time, was trying to scrape his jaw off the bottom of the boat. He was also quietly thankful he had hurled it away from his opponents, because he wasn’t sure how they would have taken being covered in custard like that. Although it would be rather hilari-

Oh, hang on. He was fighting wasn’t he. Yes? Yes.

He spun around, hoping Yuka had left him at least one or two boats to get to the other side. Even if he had to row. He had one arm working properly and at tail, and he could flail like a mad thing if needs be. Hell, if he had to, he’d headbutt someone, he would. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

And that water nymph thing was too, but only because they were in a watery situation and it seemed like, you know, trouble. That and the allure effect was trying to kick in, except with the wrong species and while it did nudge the libido, common sense and generations of instinct rejected it as best it could. How the gunslinger was fairing was anyone's guess.

Enduring judgement, eh?

“Come over here and say it to our faces, you…you…” His flail of frustration was bad; his arm flared up again, making the poor creature cranky. “Just you try it!”

[Nieve.Roja]

"Oh, I'm in way too deep." He whispered the words to himself, trembling as Archon's rage passed through his mind. Their encounter in the tavern was nothing compared to the sheer sense of power that resounded through his words. Emilio simply thanked whatever deity Archon served for allowing them to join forces. It was the least he could do; he'd hate to be on the other team right now.

Then again, he had plenty to worry about himself. The girl who had been playing around with the rod was - as suspected - casting a spell, which was now coming into effect. A single word broke the silence before the storm. Suishoha! Before having a chance to ask himself what that even meant, he noticed a change. The surface of the water was no longer smooth and calm; it bulged and formed a wall, a colossal body of water, nearly twice as tall as he was. At least as fast as it was raised, it started moving away from the girl, gaining in speed with every passing second. It soon dawned upon Emilio that 'away from the girl' was in fact 'towards him', a thought he did not enjoy at all.

Sliding his legs apart, he tried to brace himself for the tidal wave approaching, thinking as fast as he could. Okay, big wave. Two options: stay here, hope the ship doesn't do a barrel roll, or... abandon ship. Oh man, I'm screwed. In the end, the choice was made for him; the deck seemed to lean backwards as the tsunami collided, vibrating through the entire structure. As if the force of the crash alone wasn't enough, the water flowed over the ship like a waterfall, dragging along everything in its path. Emilio, who was already thrown off-balance, was swept away like a ragdoll in the powerful current, cursing as he smacked face-first into the deck. In a feat of pure luck, his extended hand managed to hold on to the railing. As the wave passed underneath, the boat returned to a somewhat stationary position, yet with a lack of Emilio on the deck. Instead, the now-irate second half of Destined Intervention was dangling from the side of the ship, wet, pissed, and spouting every profanity that crossed his mind. This was definitely not what he'd signed up for.

As he dragged himself onto the ship, he rose to his feet and holstered his pistol, which had miraculously not been swept along in the torrent. With another loud curse, he ran his hand through his hair, trying to model it into something decent, watching his crowd and registering their every movement. It was painful trying to imagine what they thought of him after such a humiliation. However, the crowd was not focused on him at all.

Upon the mast of his opponents' ship, he saw a... words escaped him to describe the creature. A beautiful woman, shining in a blue glow. Her hair waved around in non-existent winds, shifting in and out of her naked body, seemingly composed of the same water flowing around her feet.

... wait, what?

Another good look at her body revealed that she was, indeed, displaying all her natural splendor. For a moment, he grinned as any man would upon witnessing Mother Nature's gift laid out in front of their eyes. Something was bothering him, though. That blue glow was familiar.

His worst fear was confirmed as a quick glance around the battlefield yielded no sign of Archon. One could practically see him connect the dots as he slowly whispered a curse, an expression of awe quickly turned into one of extreme agony. There was simply no way that could be him, or her. Hell, there was no way to tell with all this going on. Fueled by this newly-gained sexual frustration, he took a running leap off his ship and onto another one, nearly overshooting it in his anger.

"Archon, you little bastard... you just couldn't think of anything else but a naked chick?! If you're doing this on purpose, it's not funny!"

As he jumped from boat to boat, he managed to catch a glimpse of the sorceress readying some sort of arrow. In response, he once again drew one of his guns in his left hand. Sadly, it was already too late. Launching himself into the air one last time, he had finally reached their ship, gracefully bending through his knees to absorb the impact. As he looked up, the arrow had already left her fingers. Still in his landing pose, he raised his gun once more, searching his target. His finger gently caressed the trigger. Hesitation overtook him for a single moment. She didn't intend to kill him with that wave, it wasn't near the size it'd have to be for that. Might as well return the favor. He grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, aimed downwards and pulled the trigger. With a little luck, the bullet would hit her ankle. Then again, the odds of Lady Luck lending a hand twice over was pretty much non-existent.

I should have let go of those damn rails.

[SoulBeaver]

The arcane arrow tore off half the weird's face. What remained could not have been any more accurately described than lurid. A ghastly grin tore courage apart and made the heart of heroes fall silent. Even without eyes, the lips still remained locked in the opponent's direction. They chuckled, and parts of the crowd fell silent.

A hand reached up and felt for the plateau on her head, wary of that arrow grinding the mast behind her. Nothing. His hand felt nothing above the smile. To remedy this, the arm melted inside the remainder of the head and regrew the facial structures at a sickening pace. Within sparse seconds, a new pair of beguiling eyes pierced the air, and continued until the last lock of her liquid hair whipped through the stiff breeze.

The attack had surprised Archon; the metamorphosis of his transformation had left him unguarded. Therefore, his arm payed the price with only a stub at the elbow remaining. But never mind that, he told himself, never letting go of his enemies. The ship had swayed hard, but his new form proved excellently fit for the task of balance even when an arrow disfigured his face. Would it also prove fit for victory? He did not wait for time to tell.

His remaining right arm reached out, shone silvery green. The weird's legs, meanwhile, strode backwards and found comfort in the proximity of an angst-ridden sailor. Maybe the lizard, with his downright idiotic threat in the face of a glaring shot wound that more than happily leeched life from his body, might have no problems murdering the currently innocent, but the empathetic words of Yuka might prove beneficial. If she refused to harm the innocent around him, then he would use them to a certain advantage. He made sure that the sailor had his eyes closed. Innocent men did not have to see their untimely end creep near at the hands of the wicked.

A pearl-white circle, guided by the invisible hand of Archon's imperious mind, enclosed a five foot circular space. Upon completion, the area inside the circle bathed in an equally white light. Unfortunately, this spell led to the paralyzation of the hapless victim, and the one-armed weird quickly paced behind the shield. Never once had the weird stopped her otherworldly grinning.

Archon did not wait for their next action, releasing a second spell that sporadically snaked around the ship towards the lithe lizard. Why bother with a woman who might not attack in face of the innocent. Instead, this spell would target and cripple the lizard's legs, literally rotting away the muscles under the skin. Just a second decided the fate of the target's continued use of mobility for the rest of his life.

It definitely seemed possible to dodge the attack. The ray, green and slithery, would connect at the waist, and did not react to the opponent's movement. A single sidestep could save him, and his voiced threat might then gain importance. But no, Archon did not believe this possible.

[Wings of Endymion]

Shock. The flush of adrenaline-fuelled panic.

That wasn’t supposed to happen! Yuka screamed in her mind, letting slip a low gasp of horror at the sight of the disfigured weird. How was I to know that she… it… was so engorged on power that…

Pain. Red-hot, flaring pain.

Half an inch astray, and the fragment of metal would have shattered the bones of her right ankle. The bullet buried itself in the decking behind her, peppering the back of her legs with the splinters of its impact, but that was nothing compared to the blazing trail of torn tendons and flowing blood that it carved upon her foot. Her gasp morphed to a low moan that echoed hollowly about the rolling deck; the abrupt agony made her lose her balance, remnant waves of her previous spell dropping her to her knees.

Blurry, star-speckled vision cleared for a moment as she tried to focus on the battle. The gunman who had shot her was almost upon them now, smoke still wafting into the crisply shimmering air from the mouth of one of his weapons. But her arcane intuitions drew her attention back to the shapeshifter, its face now restored at the expense of an arm as it took shelter behind an unfortunate member of the crew. A young man, dark of hair and fair of face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut against fear. They had been instructed beforehand to stay low and out of sight, but obviously the advice had not taken into account the wilful use of them as human shields. Yuka’s blood began to boil at the injustice as she steadied herself to take action.

She recognised the runic pattern of entrapment magic about her foe, casting a pearly paranormal glow upon the well-worn deck that was quickly lost to the sunlit heavens. As the realisation hit her, however, a second spell rent reality as a carving knife through paper wall, flashing along the seams of the wood like some sentient emerald spark whose low hum of life registered faintly to her ears. Her arcane-tuned senses recognised this magic as one of sickening enfeeblement, leeching being the word that it brought to mind.

“Lask, watch out!” Yuka hollered at her friend, forcing the words past the constrictive blockade in her throat. She needn’t have worried, however, for the next sensation was of a heavy impact hurling her across the deck as Lask literally swept her out of the way of the spell, her slender frame proving no match for the wyrm’s controlled power.

Her head hammered awkwardly into solid timber, and desperately she bit down upon her voice, strangling the agonised cry that formed in her throat. One hand somehow remained clenched upon her staff, the sleek wood now warm and throbbing with the effects of the magic she had just woven. The other instinctively attempted to shield her face from whatever was going to happen next, until a more rational part of her mind kicked in and took control.

Blinding white fury and wanton desperation lent strength to her weakened limbs. Her first attempt at standing immediately told the young woman that her injured leg would not bear her weight any longer, but her mind was quick to overrule her fears. It was no matter; the distance was not great. She could crawl.

Her wound left a stream of splotchy crimson across the wooden planking as she practically hurled herself at the edge of the weird’s rune-circle. From what she could tell, its effect was some form of temporal paralysis, very similar to something that she herself could cast at a lower level. What would happen when two such spells came into contact with one another?

… only the Cabal could know for sure.

But at this point in time, with both Lask and herself badly injured, it was worth the gamble. Especially seeing the effect that one of her arrows, not known for their power, had had upon her opponent; perhaps she had it within her to salvage this situation. Yuka forced herself to remain oblivious to all that surrounded her; the sudden hush of the crowd, the gently subsiding rhythm of the boat beneath her arms and knees, the pungent scent of ozone as the salty breeze picked up the stench of magic.

The battle seemed so detached and otherworldly now, as if veiled behind a curtain of thick mists that only the strength of her will enabled her to penetrate. For a moment, Yuka wondered how one who professed to be so purely beneficent could ever be so callous as to take cover behind a non-combatant, or to cast such a malicious spell. Hypocrite, she decided as she brought herself within arm’s reach of the rune circle, feeling her head start to swim again with the pain and the effort of her exertions.

Somehow she managed to trace the appropriate rune upon her palm, her staff rolling away from her open hand to rest against the topsides of the ship not so far out of reach. It did not matter, though, for she needed it not to bring the spell to bear. Yuka cast the spidery calligraphy of the Sigil of Binding upon the caulked wooden planking, and the coruscating energies tore at her face as the two magics made contact.

When two opposing temporal forces connect…

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

There wasn’t time to think, but there was time to act. Hammered into him over and over again from working with mages told him what that hand wave was. Yuka was screaming, blood was everywhere, the gunslinger had made it to their boat – but that didn’t matter.

What mattered was the sickly green wave of death coming towards them. All of them. A spell like that does not take out one person, it splashes. The hindbrain kicked in. Disgust followed; and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he tumbled to the side, taking Yuka with him. Nieve was flicked (not hard - to move, not to injure was Lask's plan) out of the way and into the railing with his tail – bastard could have hurt his own man! And it wasn’t until he hit the deck that he realised Archon’s plan had worked – just not quite in the way it had been intended.

A warrior gets to know their body through training and use in battle, knowing it’s every twinge and ache, knowing what’s right and what’s wrong. The split second motion was all it took to make Lask’s tail ‘scream’ in the aftermath of the spell. Only practice stopped him from losing control, from giving into that primordial part of his brain and rampaging and destroying everything in sight. Common sense calmly kicked him into gear and as he peeled himself off the deck he pulled out the sword again and cut into the flesh, a hand’s width from the blackening scales. He cut until he felt bone. Then he scraped.

Maybe he screamed. Maybe he cried in that moment of eternity, but Lask was blind and deaf to everything - himself included - because all he could see was the tainted blood spilling down the trusty blade.

Where it dripped onto the wood, it hissed.

Yuka dropped out of existence. Emilio wasn’t even there. Archon could be off sipping Pina Coladas and talking to its God for all he cared. All that mattered was the cutting, and how easy it was with a blade as sharp as his.

The action took a lifetime. The action took a second. A wet slap later and the cancer continued to eat at the chunk of healthy flesh and scales that still bordered it on the deck of the ship. The veins surrounding the area seemed clean, except they were spurting blood at a fierce rate. He had a minute or so. Maybe more before his head started to spin and he'd need to lie down, elevate the area. Lots of blood. Ooh. Two minutes, tops. Then he could pass out. Bleed out maybe. Fuck.

Lask ripped at his tunic, tying it tight around the wound, then covered it again with his leather jerkin. It didn’t look heroic no matter how many times human heroes did this sort of thing.

Fuck this. Nirvana, if you really are a goddess, save me. Deliver me from harm. I don’t care how. I will massage your feet for a whole month, and even pay special attention to your scary pussy if you do what I ask! I mean it!

“Hold on.” He said hoarsely, glancing down at Yuka. Talons dug into the wood-work, and leaping to the side and hopefully out of the way of any kind of spell Yuka might have in her inventory. His arm felt loose. His tail felt wrong. He was leaving a trail.

I especially meant it about your cat, you crazy bitch!

The adrenaline was kicking in, and in the short few steps it took to approach the shimmering circle of magic, Lask had used his good arm to draw out his axe, the dehlar blade flashing in the eerie witchlight. He made the mistake of making eye contact just once with the meat-shield - the hostage’s eyes were rolling. Oh gods, he’d just been paid to be here. Not to become part of this messed up tournament. His decision was made.

And then Yuka’s spell hit.

He swung.

Angling the axe to hit the human with the akashima wood shaft – just to stun and fling away, not to kill – he tried to push the human out of actual danger. Whether it had any effect on Archon, Lask didn’t know. This fight was between the combatants – not the bystanders.

This is turning out to be a day when I should have stayed in bed...

[Nieve.Roja]

One's perception of good and evil was not cast in stone, but depended on one's point of view. It seemed like a good philosophy. People may call you evil, but they don't know what you're dealing with every day, they don't know the things you've lived through, they simply don't know you.

Yet somehow, Emilio's belief in this principle was tested. See, the latest turn of events convinced him there was some divine being above them all. Archon was the best proof you could ask for, a being sent by this deity to make them all repent for their sins. And yet, he doubted. He doubted that a being as elevated of status as Archon would be capable of doing this. For a moment, he even believed that Archon was simply stark raving mad; that grin as he regenerated his head - that's right, she blew his head off and he still lived. That creepy grin as he froze his hostage in place, much like he'd done to the patrons back in the tavern.

That incredibly insane grin as he attacked.

The sorceress called out for her partner, trying to warn him. Lask. His name is Lask. She was on her knees, a view he'd usually enjoy, were it not that it was his own bullet that caused her to go down in the first place. A slight tinge of guilt tore through his mind. Physically, he'd probably be stronger than her, taking away the need to just blatantly shoot her. As he pondered his course of action, he was soon reminded why he'd chosen to take a little distance.

The hard lash of a tail slammed into Emilio's chest. Before even realizing something had hit him, he smashed into the ship's railing like a ragdoll. His vision went blurry, and his handgun slipped from his hand. The steel clattered on the deck as his entire body numbed from the sheer impact. He'd smacked into the railing spine-first, and it was not a nice feeling. Not at all.

Lask unsheathed his blade, and in a swift motion, cut off a part of his tail. Emilio didn't see it happening; it was more of a witnessing. The information registered in his brain, but it didn't actively flow through his mind. Only after a few seconds of watching the movie that was his environment did he regain control over his body. Slowly but surely, the crowd's cheering started roaring in all it's primitive glory, and the wall of sound reached his ears again. He grit his teeth, trying to piece himself together little by little. The crowd wanted him to fight. The crowd wasn't cheering for him; they were cheering for the blood he might draw. If it were up to Emilio, not a single drop would be shed, but alas, fate has a way of playing tricks on you.

A quick survey of the battlefield. Archon was having his own little 'psychotic murderer' moment, he'd definitely be a distraction. Lask was, by now, throwing himself towards the hostage, swinging his axe at him. The witch was still down, but it seemed she wasn't out. She was drawing something on her hand. Wait... drawing... Her action was noticed just a moment too late; he threw himself forward in a futile attempt to stop her. Just two steps, perhaps. He merely managed to place two steps before he dropped flat on the deck. His legs were still failing him. The two spells connected, two different energies forced into one. Not good. Very not good.

The clash of energy swamped the circle Archon was standing in as flames erupted from it, almost beautifully coloured tongues of fire, circling and slithering around. They grew larger, fiercer, every color conceivable: it was almost like a carnaval attraction. He covered his head and closed his eyes, hoping the worst would fade away soon. Somehow, he feared for the others; they were a lot closer to the fire than he was. Nothing you can do now, man. Just sit this one out.

[Christoph]

Thank you for participating! Taskmienster will judge this battle within about a week’s time. Please do not contact your judge regarding the judgment until after it has been posted.

[Taskmienster]

Sasurai vs. Destined Intervention

Hey hey, welcome to the first round. I have judged your thread and have the scores below. But! Before you go shuffling through them, please let me have a small portion of your time. I would like to explain something first and foremost. The battle was an ok battle, nothing amazingly special, just ok. I’m not trying to insult you, but spur you to do better in the coming rounds (should you move on by way of win or by way of fate points). I have posted comments only on the scores that are either above or below a 5. They are brief, but can be expanded upon if you’d like. The scores are average, but I really felt that the performance and level of writing put in by either side was reflected well by the score. One thing that I would like to note above all is that both teams felt as if you were trying to force yourself to write 1-2 full pages on Word in order to post. It’s not necessary; you don’t have to do that. Post relevant aspects of the battle, actions and reactions, and maybe a little side stuff here and there to give it a little more flair. However, as much as was typed in this, it was simply far too long winded, with a ton of broken ideas or idea’s that were in no way necessary to the battle which destroyed the pacing for the most part.

Anyway, good luck in the future!

Sasurai

Wings of Endymion

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2.5/5
~ Setting ~ 6/10
~Good use of the water attack
~ Pacing ~ 7.5/15

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 5/10
~ Action~ 7.5/15
~ Persona ~ 3/10
~Got nothing about who you were or why you acted the way you did.

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 4/10
~ Mechanics ~ 8/10
~ Clarity ~ 7/10

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 53]


Schrodinger’s Nirvana

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2.5/5
~ Setting ~ 5/10
~ Pacing ~ 5.5/15
~11th post killed it, immensely. As well as quite a bit of added info that detracted from the battle throughout the posts.

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 4/10
~Odd, though inconsistent or not couldn’t be determined with lack of persona.
~ Action~ 6.5/15
~Certain things you did felt out of place, like you didn’t give the other team enough time to react. Tail cutting, for example, should have been done and stopped. Allowing the other team to do something other than just going straight to tearing the tunic.
~ Persona ~ 4/10
~None really explained, though I got a few different feels for the character from other sections, though a ‘few different’ means that it was inconsistent.

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 4/10
~Nearly no use of anything literarily advanced, and most of the writing felt like lower diction and somewhat childish at times.
~ Mechanics ~ 8/10
~ Clarity ~ 7/10

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 49]


Destined Intervention

Nieve.Roja

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2/5
Storyline of where SoulBeaver is and where you say he is were inconsistent, as well as who you were and where you came from.
~ Setting ~ 6/10
~Used the boats well
~ Pacing ~ 5/15
~Honestly… half of what was done was done in one post, such as jumping boat to boat, and too much for a person to do without retaliation.

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 6/10
~Stayed relatively consistent, though it wasn’t really explained why you spoke that way through your persona.
~ Action~ 7.5/15
~ Persona ~ 4/10

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 6/10
~Had some actually well written things in there that caught me, but not that many or any that were astoundingly significant to note.
~ Mechanics ~ 6/10
~Slipped into present tense, misspelled a word, another misspelling
~ Clarity ~ 7/10

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 52]

SoulBeaver

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2.5/5
~ Setting ~ 5/10
~ Pacing ~ 4.5/15
~The transformation and attacks seemed slow and to take up a lot of time, but didn’t give the opponent enough time to react either.

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 7/10
~You did the best in dialogue, by far.
~ Action~ 7.5/15
~ Persona ~ 5/10
~ You jumped to anger within seconds, which made no sense…

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 7/10
~Definitely had the most technique present in the thread, but it was also used well.
~ Mechanics ~ 7/10
~Present tense use.
~ Clarity ~ 4/10
~First post was muddled and hard to follow… subsequent posts were nearly as difficult.

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 52]

TOTAL

(51/100) (52/100)

Destined Intervention Wins

GAINS/REWARDS!

Nieve.Roja and Soul Beaver gain 500 exp and 100 gold

Schrodinger's Nirvana and Wings of Endymion gain 150 exp and 25 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!