Semi-finals: Christina Bredith Vs. Orphans

[Christina Bredith]

The shock and horror that flooded Christina’s mind at that moment were incomprehensible. They should not have been; she knew what her Rumbling Rose would do to her opponents, even ones as frail as this girl. And further, she knew that the monks would heal even the most serious of wounds after the battle. There should have been no cause for alarm; she was doing only what had to be done to achieve her goal.

And yet her stomach churned. She felt like a monster. She thought the crowd was roaring, but was it the crowd, or was it some deep dark part of her, bellowing a carnal triumph like a lion after a kill?

Then Christina’s thoughts progressed in a pattern that bewildered her. First, she noted that her opponent’s sword was still on the platform. Her right arm had come away entirely along with it. Together that meant that she was no longer a threat. Only that allowed Christina to throw down Rosebite and barrel across the island, diving head-first into the churning salt water. It sickened her even as she did so.

The bellowing of the crowd was muted by the water, replaced with a dull aquatic grumbling and the intense screams of agony shooting up her left arm as salt clawed at her wound. The water was bitterly cold, but she could not let that stop her. The least she could do now was protect this girl from the horror of drowning.

When she opened her eyes, they stung bitterly, but she ignored that too. What she could not ignore was the thick darkness all around her; there was no sunlight to penetrate the water to begin with, so its depths were murky and invisible. She thought she saw a flash of white and darted after it, but it was only a feather that had shaken loose from the girl’s wings. Christina spun. Nothing behind her. Again she turned. No sign of the girl anywhere, and she was beginning to lose sight of which way was up and which down. Kicking hard against the protestations of her lungs, she broke the surface of the water and crawled onto the island once more.

“Stop the battle!” she demanded, her voice hoarse from stress, salt and cold. She did not know where the monks were, but only they could strip away this enchantment and free the girl from her watery prison. It did not happen, though. Had they not heard her, or had they chosen ignorance?

“It’s over!” she repeated, more loudly this time, pointing at the fallen sword and gesturing wildly in the direction of the girl’s arm, now floating haggardly in the water off to her right. “Undo the spell and begin the healing! Do your job!”

Another moment passed and she thought they might ignore her again. But then the world shimmered briefly, and rippled like the mirage of a heat haze on a summer day. Islands and water both were replaced with the hard, dry, sandy floor of the Invitational Arena. Her opponent reappeared behind her, bleeding heavily onto the ground. Christina moved quickly to her side, pulling off the hood and cape of her black cloak and pressing it tightly against the wound. If those damnable monks would hurry, there would still be time!

“Rest now, foolish girl,” she said soothingly and mournfully, smoothing away the bone-white strands of hair from the girl’s face. “The monks are on their way and everything will be all right.”

But the crowd’s chattering returned to its normal excited buzz; their interest had moved on to the finals. That disgusted her, and she wished she could blame it on the Empire too, but that was just the lusts of mankind. Perhaps she was not alone; perhaps, somewhere deeply hidden away, everyone had a demon inside.

[orphans]

All the preparation in the entirety of Althanas couldn’t comfort Seamus as he rushed out onto the sands. Behind him, Miles followed closely with another assistant. Every one of their faces could have been mistaken for a ghost’s as they closed in on the two contestants. A quick motion and a murmur from Seamus directed his two pupils to disperse while he moved forward towards Christina.

Words failed the elder monk as his shoulders bore a weight threatening to crush him. And so, he kneeled down beside Christina and looked to the child who called herself Sophia. The wound upon Christina’s shoulder was a trifle to the man as he drew a single finger across the cut to heal and seal it. Yet, as he turned his eyes to the child, he shook his head and lifted her form gently away from Christina. The body was limp and for the first time in years, Seamus felt like an old man: A tired, foolish and ultimately useless old man.

Some ways away, Miles and the other assistant had gathered Azza’s arm and sword. Without needing to speak, both knew to return to the Citadel with their respective burden. As they did, they passed a fourth figure: a hooded woman in Akashiman garb. Miles gave a snort of disgust while the other assistant shied away. Both then made quickly for the portal.

The Akashiman only gave a solemn bow before continuing on. Reaching Seamus, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, jerking him out of his daze and prompting him to rise. Seamus took one last exhausted look at Christina before moving off to the portal, clutching the child as if it were his own.

The only few that remained were the sparse spectators that dallied about in the stands, Christina and the Akashiman. Kneeling down to share the silence, the woman pulled away her hood to free a pair of wolfen ears and let spill a cascade of auburn hair. Somber brown eyes gazed at the bloodied sands for a second before a delicate hand reached and grasped some. Another hand produced a small pouch to carry the tainted grains. Satisfied, the woman pulled the drawstring tight and pressed the package into Christina’s hand.

For the first time, their eyes met and Christina made to form words, but was quickly stopped by a thin finger pressed to her lips by the Akashiman. “This is the burden you will carry at your side instead of upon your back, Flower of Laricia. One day, when the time comes, this burden will become a blessing.” The woman stood then dusted her robes lightly as she strode towards the gateway.

“Wait. You’re not Ai’Brone, who are you?”

The Akashiman stopped for a moment and only turned her head to gaze over her shoulder. Briefly, the air about her shimmered and a pair of raven black wings appeared while horns similar to the child’s materialize on her head. As quickly as it happened, it all faded away just as the Akashiman stepped through the portal connecting the Serenti arena to the Citadel.


-----


Azza awoke to the quiet din of a crackling fire, soft snoring and the smell of ground herbs. Her entire body felt sore and ached, but there was no lasting pain. Even her right arm felt fine, though something told her that it had to be a dream. It had to be! The Ai’Brone had even said they couldn’t save her should the worst happen.

The soft, warm light of the fire danced upon the ceiling and greeted her cautious eyes when they opened. I’m… alive. Sitting up slowly, she found herself in a familiar room. A grimace graced her as she realized why; it was the same room she had awoken in when Marcus knocked her unconscious.

A quick glance at herself revealed various bandages wrapping her body and served as the only form of covering. Thankfully, she found her right arm reattached. Just to be sure, she flexed the hand tenderly and moved it slowly. Puzzlement webbed her thoughts as she spotted Seamus dozing in the corner, crumpled deep in a cushioned armchair. A knock on the door made the elder grumble softly, but otherwise, he simply continued to sleep.

Azza on the other hand, became painfully aware at her lack of clothing. Thinking quickly, she snatched a nearby blanket and draped it over herself just as the door opened. A man with elegant locks entered with a tray of bandages and set them on the table. Closing the door after, he turned and widened his eyes in surprise. For a long time, both Azza and the man simply stared at each other. Eventually, the man gave a cough into his fist and brushed nervously at his robes. “Erm, I’m Miles.” Azza nodded and the man just shifted uncomfortably. “I’m here to… uh, change your bandages.” Azza shook her head. Unsure what else to do, he scratched at the back of his head and shifted his gaze to an empty chair.

After another uncomfortable quiet with only the snap of a log in the fire making any sound, Miles cleared his throat once more and moved to sit upon the chair. “Sophia, correct?” Azza nodded her head to the question. “Do you… remember what the woman did to heal you?”

More silence. Then, “No… I don’t.”

Miles let out a dark sigh as he shook her head. “I can’t believe – I never thought that we couldn’t help you and that we’d have to accept the help from a stranger.” Looking over to the girl, he spoke barely above a whisper, “She wouldn’t part with her methods either before she left.”

“Who - why did she leave?” Azza asked quickly in panic. Then a thought came over her and calmed her. She had lost; there would be no reason for her to continue in the Serenti Invitational. The very notion warmed her to the core as she closed her eyes to relax. It must have all been a mistake anyway. Did they honestly expect someone like her to have a chance?

“Sophia, that means should you be chosen to fight again, no one will be able to save you.”

Azza’s eyes snapped open and looked to Miles in confusion. “But I lost!”

Again, Miles scratched at the back of his skull in frustration. “The Serenti Invitational isn’t operating under standard Citadel's rules. We the Ai’Brone are helping to facilitate it, but we ultimately have no say in it.”

The girl’s heart sank as she shrank against the bed, pulling the blanket tighter about herself. “Can’t… can’t I refuse?”

Miles shrugged. “I suppose you could, but someone powerful must be backing you. You entered rather late and at a very important time. I’ve checked the records over and over, and there is no mistake with the clerical work.”

“… and it would be bad to anger someone that powerful… wouldn’t it?”

The young man didn’t respond right away as he looked over to his mentor, Seamus. Turning back, Azza could see the infinite number of questions burning without answers within the eyes of Miles. “I can only assume so.”

Some destiny, Azza thought bitterly, I almost die and get saved by a mystery woman. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to do! Perhaps some Thayne thought it humorous to have her undergo such an experience, but Thaynes weren’t that cruel, were they? A hesitant question formed on her lips as she glanced over to Miles. “When… is the next match?”

Miles closed his lids so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the pleading look in Azza’s eyes. “You’ve been asleep for nearly seven hours. The next match will be announced sometime in the next four. Contestants will then have an hour to prepare.”

“Isn’t there anything I can do so that I’m not chosen?”

The man offered a weak smile and his gentle eyes as he opened them again. “Pray.”

[Christina Bredith]

Some time later, Christina found herself back in her private chamber, tossing the sealed satchel up and down before her, eyes fixed blankly on the opposite wall. She didn’t know what to make of her meeting with the strange Akashiman woman. She must have been a member of the same species as her opponent in the last battle, but that in itself was an oddity. Christina had never seen such creatures before, so where had she come from all of a sudden? Maybe she was related to the girl, although she would have expected her to be angrier at the battle’s result.

And then there was this pouch of sand. Christina stopped juggling it, but she could not bring herself to pull open the drawstring and peek inside. She knew what was there: sand from the arena mixed with her opponent’s blood. A part of her wanted to throw the stupid thing against the wall. Why would anyone give this to her? Was it just supposed to rub in her guilt for mangling a frail young girl? She wouldn’t need any help with that.

But she had said that this “burden” would become a blessing. She had no clue what that could possibly have meant, but it did mean that the Akashiman probably hadn’t given this to her to punish her for harming the girl.

“It’s just a stupid bag of sand,” she found herself muttering aloud. Pushing away from the hard bed, she moved over to the cold fireplace and tossed the sack onto the mantelpiece. She felt a sudden chill and decided to start making a fire for herself; some old logs had been stacked in one corner, most of them somewhat moldy and likely unusable, but at least a handful were passably dry.

Her mind continued to wander as she tossed the logs onto the hearth with thud after dull thud. She had almost forgotten the most unnerving part of the entire exchange. The Akashiman woman had known Christina was from Laricia. How could she possibly have known that? Even most people who knew who Christina actually was didn’t know her past that deeply, and here in Serenti she was going under the guise of Rosalyn de Havlan, about whom no more was known than the Akashiman herself.

“Some kind of sorcery,” Christina concluded, and stacked up some smaller twigs for kindling. Matches were left on the mantel; she struck one and set the hearth ablaze, basking in the immediate gratification of its warm embrace.

Some kind of sorcery, certainly, but she didn’t like it. Not from someone whose origins and motives were completely unknown to her. If she knew who Christina really was, could word possibly reach…? No, better not to think of that now. If it was so, then everything she had come here to accomplish would be wasted, and she could not let that distract her when she was so close to success!

The battle was over but the victor had yet to be decided. The rules of this Serenti were strange indeed, advancements bowing to the whims of the crowd and the organizers as much as anything else. Only Christina’s performance would decide whether she advanced to the finals, not the fact that she soundly defeated her young opponent. It was entirely possible, according to those same rules, that the girl might proceed to the finals herself—or that they both might. She should not have been in the tournament in the first place! Putting her through to the finals would be an act of torture, and Christina could think of only one way to prevent it:

Pray.

There was no knock to announce the arrival of the balding herald who looked after the match’s competitors. He waddled rotundly into the room, face as illegible as a blank slate, and unrolled an official imperial parchment which Christina knew bore the results of the semi-finals. She rose to stand before him and tucked strands of strawberry hair behind her ears; her argent eyes fixed him anxiously.

The man cleared his throat and read.

I know one usually doesn't request spoils in tournament threads, but orphans has told me that the pouch of sand was given to Christina for a reason that will become apparent later on, and since it has no immediate usefulness other than being a nice if somewhat morbid paperweight, I'd like to request it as a spoil anyway.

[Silence Sei]

Orphans/Christina


Story 5/6 – I found myself slightly intrigued by Christina’s whole motivation for the tournament, whereas Azza’s seemed a bit weak. Both of you possessed all of the good story elements that make a story, however, but Christina gets a slight edge.

Continuity 4/6 – I found myself scratching my head as to why Azza would even listen to the advice of a mysterious stranger who nobody else could remember. I also found myself having to stretch the imagination, if ever so slightly, to believe that the Ai’Brone can instantly teleport people from the citadel, to a Serenti room, and back into the citadel. I would advise sticking with one or the other next time.

Setting 7/6 – I found Orphan’s description of the arena a bit easier on the mind than that of Christina’s. Nothing really stood out about it to me, per se, and there could have been more use with the elements you had given for the scene. Azza is a teen, so I would not have put it beneath her to try and throw sand in Christina’s face. Both of you were in the rain but I saw no mention of hair being matted to skin, or strands loosening themselves from the braids because of said rain. Just some things to take note of.

Creativity 7/6 – Azza had some creative uses for her abilities in this fight, whereas Christina was just predictable. I just feel at this point, I know what Christina’s opening moves are going to be. That wasn’t to say that severing the kids arm was not good, it was (thus the slight extra point there), its just you need to be a bit more versatile with your abilities.

Character 4/5 – I found myself questioning why Azza just up and decided to let everyone call her Sophia. With Christina, using the guise of Rosalyn has been done throughout the entire tournament. To just suddenly decide before the battle to use an alias (despite the fact that the only people who talked with your character for real –knew- her name was Azza) just seemed off.

Interaction 6/6 -Good use of the rain drowning out the sound of Christina’s voice. I also appreciated Christina’s dive and momentary failed search for her foe. More elements for the battle could have been used, however.

Strategy 6/6 - Whereas Azza was pushed to her physical limitations in this battle, Christina had to endure a battle of the conscience. You both pulled it off well, but you could have elaborated a bit more on both accounts.

Mechanics 8/10 – I found a couple of run-ons from Orphans, as well as exclamation points that would have been more appropriate as periods. Just a note, most writers don’t incorporate the exclamation point unless they’re using dialogues. Try to be more careful with it.

Clarity 6/8 – Christina eeks by with a better description of the environment, though you both did a good job painting a vivid picture of the arena, I felt more in the scene with Christina’s writing than with Orphans. Orphans, your faults lied in the link at the start of the thread (its off putting, what with it being a jarring color change out of nowhere before we’re back to text), as well as the mysterious stranger. As a past reader of your stuff, I think I have a decent idea of who this stranger is, but as a new reader, I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t know if that was what your intention was or not, but its better to create a new character if you have to if you don’t want such questions being asked by veterans to your work.

Wildcard 7/5 – Christina would have tied here, but she missed 4 days before her introduction, which means she lost 2 points for missing her deadline.

Total – 63/64

Christina Bredth gains 1650 exp, 100 GP

Orphans gains 450 exp, 200 GP

Christina Bredth Advances to the finals!

[Atzar]

EXP/GP added!