Round Two

[Sheex]

It wasn't every day you were sitting at a bar (enjoying a fine single malt scotch), and a man suddenly pulled up a chair and sat down across from you. It was even more unusual for the man (who looked so slick that an open flame might start a fire; Sheex put out his cigarette just in case) to pull out a small bottle, set in on the table, and tap you on the shoulder with a grin that made a guy about to sell you a nice piece of swampland look honest.

Actually, this was Althanas. Such a thing was probably perfectly normal for a lot of people.

"My fine young man," the man began, "have I got an offer for you! This, my dear boy, comes from the Raiaera, land of mystic wonder! My friend, have you ever been to Raiaera?"

"Isn't that the place that got royally wrecked by a necromancer?" Sheex asked as he decided that setting whoever this was on fire would be doing sweet old ladies everywhere a service.

The man's smile flickered like the ember of a flame that had not been quite put out; momentarily dampened, but soon to burn bright again.

"Indeed, a tragic tale, to be sure. But, before those dark days, Raiaera was beautiful to behold. Enchantments, magical crafts; my good sir, so many wonderful things to be seen!" the man held up the bottle (a pinkish liquid of sorts), as his (very unrealistic) white teeth sparkled.

"And elf babes so hot the sun feels outdone. Look pal, whatever you're selling, I think I'll pass. Magic really isn't my thing," Sheex muttered as he finished off his scotch. "There are more important things in life anyhow."

"Like that waitress you've been eyeing each time she passes by?" the stranger said with a mischievous grin. Sheex muttered that the man was an astute bastard, if nothing else, but failed to see how a bit of colored water would help in that regard.

"Because my lecherous loser," the salesman ignored the rude remark Sheex responded with (it involved the man's mother, and a broomstick handle), "this is not colored water! Indeed, it is a secret potion, crafted from by gone times-"

"That will make any woman fall in love with me? Yeah, I tried one of those once. Not only did it not work, but the girl sent her boyfriend on me when she found out I tried to seduce her with a love potion. I ended up with a bloody lip, a sore face, and my hair messed up all for the low-low price of ten gold coins! So, thanks, but no thanks. Maybe that creepy old guy in the corner will fall for it though," Sheex tossed a few coins onto the table to pay for his drink, and made to leave. Of course, no good strange salesman gave up so easily.

"Ah, but did that supplier of happy nights allow you a free sample? Eh? Eh?" the man asked as he caught Sheex by the arm.

"No," the wanderer responded slowly, "all she did was cackle and keep calling me sonny."

"Then try it my dear friend. Try, and behold the wonders of an ancient race!" the salesman offered up the bottle, and motioned for Sheex to apply some to his neck, as one would cologne (or perhaps bug spray). With a "what the hell" shrug, Sheex dabbed three drops onto his neck, and approached the waitress he had been eyeing.

"Hey babes," the wanderer said with a smile not unlike that of the salesman's, "wanna play war? I lay down, you blow the fu-"

The sound of a solid slap-to-a-pervert's-face echoed throughout the bar.

"Thought as much," Sheex muttered as he rubbed his cheek, "and no, oh very scary bartender with the bat, there's no need to be violent. I was on my way out."

Ignoring the salesman's shouts of the potion took time to take affect, Sheex strolled out into the night. There wasn't too much to do in this town, and he had just got himself more or less banned from the tavern (which as any adventure knows, has a solid hold on all adventures....not that Sheex was interested in those things). With nothing else to do, Sheex decided to kick a rock into the air, and head off to the inn.

"OW! GOD DAMN IT!" a voice screamed, "WHO THE HELL IS THROWING ROCKS? I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL-"

"Please don't be a large guy with a giant axe, please don't be a large guy with a giant axe," Sheex found himself praying as he did the responsible thing, and promptly put as much distance between him and whoever it was that was screaming as humanly possible. It was to no avail, for the wanderer was rather poor with directions, and managed to round the corner just as the injured party was finishing their sentence.

"-blow the ever loving daylights out of him!" was the last thing Sheex heard before he found himself being pressed against an alley wall, with his tongue engaged in a fierce sparring match.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Sheex whispered as he raised up his hands slightly, and felt two very supple objects. He opened his eyes to find out that before him was a beautiful woman of about twenty-three years of age, and he was kissing her passionately.

"Freaking blow me. It actually works!" the wanderer exclaimed as the woman removed his pants.

"I would hope so," was the woman's reply as she fondled him, "otherwise I'm going to be very disappointed."

Roughly a half-hour later, Sheex stumbled out of the alley, muttering something about the randomness of the birds and the bees. The woman had left just as quickly as she had come (pun intended), which was all well and good with Sheex. After all, he himself was a tad bit worn, and a shower wouldn't exactly be a bad thing right about now.

Plus his head hurt. Wait, there was an actual reason for that; he had just been tackled to the ground by that waitress he had hit on. Except now she didn't seem so get-away-from-me-you stupid-pervert; she was in a more take-me-now-you-handsome-beast.

"Jackpot," Sheex whispered, "though maybe we could grab a room? All this 'in the back alley' stuff is kinda tiring...and that wasn't a sexual metaphor...and least not yet."

But before he could do the dirty deed, the waitress was shoved to the side by a feisty brunette. Then, the brunette was punched by a red-head, who was bitch-slapped by some goth emo chick, who was down right pulverized by a rather large woman with black hair.

"Ah, I get it," Sheex muttered as he crawled away from the melee (minus his shoes...a blonde was clinging to them rather fiercely), "this is one of those moments where I repent my lecherous nature, seeing as how the whole town is about to fight over me. Well, the joke's on you God! Like I'd pass this up!"

Shoeless, and now missing one of his socks, Sheex scrambled up onto a conveniently placed box. He cupped his hands together, and screamed as loud as he could the one thing that mattered the most at times like these.

"HEY! CAT FIGHT!" Sheex screamed as he sat down, pulled out his hip flask, and sipped at it. His money was on the tub of a woman with black hair, but that red-head looked like a biter. Better avoid that one. Sheex made a mental note.

"Enough! Stop this disturbance at once!" a very official looking man shouted, as he began tearing his way to Sheex. "None of you can have this man!"

"Spoilsport. I was conducting a legitimate tournament for my affection," Sheex muttered; the man (who looked to be a town guard of sorts) paid him no heed.

"You can't have him because he's MINE! Come into my arms, you gorgeous hunk of a man you!" the guardsman screamed, confessing his undying love.

"And now is when I repent my lecherous nature. Time to exit, stage right!" Sheex swore as he made to dash away, only to be blocked by the underdog of the fight, the brunette. The wanderer rolled his eyes, and motioned at the oncoming guardsman confessing his eternal love, backed by at least one-forth of the town.

"Ah. Save me, fair knight?" Sheex asked politely.

Two days, and a riot later.

"Yes my friend," the strange salesman grinned as he sat down across from a young man at a bar, "have I a deal for you!"

A cry of alarm went out as one Sheex Deltin (now shoeless, sockless, and shirtless) stormed into the bar, and delivered a brutal punch to the salesman. Without another word, the wanderer reached into the man's pocket, and extracted the small bottle of pinkish fluid.

"Moderation," Sheex smiled as he spied a very cute bartender pouring out the drink, "is the key."

From now on, he swore, Sheex would only use one drop.

[Silence Sei]

Today was exceptionally windy for a Concordia night. The sporadic gusts of wind blew over Sei Orlouge's body, chilling his exposed arms. The Mystic continued to remain in his meditative state, however. The mute would not allow something as silly as a cold breeze deter him from is nightly reflections. Every night, the youngest Orlouge would meditate on the days earlier events. Everything from the strategies he had sent out, to whatever training regiment he participated in, to whatever foods he chose for himself to eat, each intricate detail could have made an impact on the state of affairs for Ixian Castle. It was a heavy burden, being a leader, and Sei had been the one fate had thrust this fate upon. He would not back down from such a dutiful obligation.

The grass underneath him swayed with the next breeze to roll in, tickling underneath his thighs ever so slightly. He could hear footsteps behind him, the person making said steps obvious taking great care in not disturbing the nightly ritual. As the winds danced around Sei's sitting form, the smell of alcohol, Radasanth Tonic if he were not mistaken, danced across his nostrils. Only one person in the telepaths army could swallow a drink in which the bartender just finds any form of liquid and pours it in a glass. Jensen Ambrose, the enigmatic immortal, the come back kid, Sei Orlouge's head bodyguard, and most recently, his closest confidant.

"Why did you call me here?" Jensen may have respected the meditation, but there was an obvious frustration to his tone, "Steph and I were having a night on the town."

"My apologies for keeping Stephanie from baby sitting you all night, Mr. Ambrose," Sei spoke with a sarcasm that only seemed to rise in the presence of the crimson haired immortal, "but I must ask that you do me a favor this night."

"Huh?" Jensen's surprise at the request was reflected in the stunned expression on his face (though Sei himself could not see it), "What the hell are you talking about?"

This prompted Sei to stand up and open his eyes. The mute tilted his head towards the sky, looking at the stars that tried to fight their way through the foliage of Concordia Forest. The wind seemed to pause for a moment while the Mystic gazed at the skies above, contemplating the next words to his friend. "I have found myself bogged down recently with the activities of Ixian Castle, Jensen. Every so often, I would like to be able to do what I wish. By myself. Lately I have found myself with less time to my own time. It seems as though my meditation hour is the only point in the day I get to be away from all the hustle and bustle that comes with being the commander of an entire army."

"You want a day off," Jensen's sloshed words seemed to be getting worse now. Sei turned to find that his bodyguard had managed to sneak a bottle of liquor into their little meeting. The smell reeking off of the warrior began to burn inside the telepath's nose. "I can do that, but you have to do something for me, faggot fairy king."

Sei raised an eyebrow and tilted his head not unlike a puppy. Up above, the clouds began to blanket over the moon, cascading a dark shadow over Sei's little piece of land. The strategist knew that signs such as this tended to be foreboding. Though there was no wind, the mute found his skin littered with goose bumps. Sei took a hard swallow, wondering if leaving the castle with an intoxicated Jensen, especially an intoxicated Jensen who had terms for castle sitting, was a good idea after all.

"You can't go on....hold on a second," Jensen's words were quickly shut out by the end of the bottle in his hand. When he finished taking several drinks of his swill, he began once more. "You can't go on parading around with your whole 'holier than thou' attitude. In other words, if you're taking a vacation from being a hero, then don't be a fucking hero!" Sei was absolutely sure that if Jensen had not been gripping the neck of the bottle for dear life, he would have thrown it to the ground.

Sei sat there thinking about this for a moment. Behind Jensen stood Ixian Castle, the very structure that served as a testament to Sei's title as a hero. To promise to not defend the weak and helpless....could the great 'Silence' Sei Orlouge really do that? Most nights away from his home, he would find himself as he once was; a lone vigilante administering justice however he had seen fit. Now, he was here, honestly contemplating not doing any of that on this night. Sweat began to roll down the mute's forehead as he slowly nodded. It would be a difficult task, but the most that the Ixian leader could do for his friend was attempt such a thing. "You, Jensen Ambrose, have yourself a deal..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twelve strikes of the clock warned the Mystic of the time he had spent getting ready for his heroic free night on the town. He had spent several hours in his room, wondering what he could wear to not be recognized by the common people. Most of the time, such a ridiculous thing would not even be an issue, but in order to not play his part as a hero, the actor had to go undercover. His eyes shifted through the his closet, a shamefully empty little room with only a couple of gray karate gi, and two pairs of black kung fu shoes. Jomil's Touch, a long white cloth of fur, hung on the clothing rack, several of the mute's Thayne blessed items lay below it, untouched. The strategist grabbed several pieces of clothing, fabrics he did not typically wear, and threw them on a bed. Looking over the arrangement as it laid on the king sized mattress struck an idea within his head.

His hands quickly went towards a black cowl, throwing the hood of the clothing over his head. He slipped out of his gray gi and put on a button-up brown shirt, the top being three sizes too big (Sei's older, half-orc brother had accidentally left it at the castle). His gray pants were quickly kicked off, replaced by black formal wear pants. The shoes were the only thing that the warrior kept on his person. After all, who the hell would recognize the great Hero of Radasanth by his shoes?

He closed the closet door and looked at himself in the mirror. The shade from the cowl's hood provided enough cover to keep everything above the nose hidden. The large shirt and classy looking pants made the Mystic look like a completely different person. Nobody would be able to tell that this figure was the great Sei Orlouge. Not his daughters, not his brothers, not even Jensen Ambrose.

So if 'Silence' Sei Orlouge could not help the defenseless and protect Radasanth from the shadows of the night, 'Silas Ayol Rouge' would...

[Bloodrose]

It might have been spring already in some parts of Salvar, but here - just south of the Kalev Highlands - winter was not yet ready to relinquish its hold. A storm descended on Darga's Run just before dark, bringing with it high winds, heavy snow, and biting cold. The rough-hewn logs that made up the walls of the little cabin Teric and Sidsa shared groaned alongside the trunks of the pines outside as the wind howled down out of the mountains, and the thatched roof above the open-beam ceiling rustled as if threatening to tear away from the building completely.

It'll be a long night if that happens. Teric found himself thinking, darkly.

Luckily, for now, it was still safe and warm inside the single room that made up the entire interior of the cabin. A healthy, vibrant fire burned away in the stone hearth that dominated the east side of the room, and Teric had stuffed an old blanket into the crack under the door. There were blankets hung over the windows as well, just in case the storm tore the old shutters off the side of the building. All things considered, the inside of the cabin felt quite cozy; in spite of, or even perhaps on account of, the terrible weather outside.

Teric was seated in a chair dragged in front of the fire; one of the few pieces of furniture in the place. Whoever had built and then abandoned the cabin originally hadn't been much for decoration, but there were enough of the "necessary" amenities to make it comfortable. In addition to the chair Teric now occupied, there was a small table, a few threadbare rugs to try and cover the stone (and often freezing) floor, and a rickety four-poster bed against the wall opposite the fireplace. Aside from that, the cabin was empty but for the provisions the mercenary and his companion had brought with them or scavenged from the wilderness during the day.

Without any cupboards or trunks to store things in, said provisions currently sat bagged and piled on the floor in a free corner of the room, tied and weighed down with chunks of slate. Teric had lived in Salvar long enough, and seen enough winters, to know that he didn't want their food blowing away if the wind did tear the roof off.

The four-poster creaked noisily, and Teric turned from the fire to see Sidsa rolling over in her sleep. The witch had gone to bed a little more than an hour ago - close to midnight if Teric had to guess - but it was warm enough in the cabin that she had already kicked off some of the blankets heaped on top of the lumpy mattress. Somehow the young woman had also shrugged out of the shift she wore to sleep, exposing one arm and a good portion of her back as she settled with her face to the wall. Even with the dim lighting and long shadows the fire cast on that side of the room, it was easy to distinguish the intricate black tattoos that curled down off Sidsa's neck, raced under her shoulder, and then advanced up over her side towards the soft flesh of her...

"Teric Barton." A strange voice said right behind him. The mercenary's head snapped around, startled, and he came very close to burying his face in the chest of another woman.

"Wha-" The mercenary choked on the first word that rose in his throat.

As far as the manifestations of Thaynes go, Jomil's was somehow both underwhelming and uniquely terrifying all in the same breath. The slender, beautiful woman that stood in the cabin now was hardly the otherworldly, alien body one might expect a deity to chose. Her skin was the blue-pale complexion of a frozen corpse, and her hair was somehow pale and dark all at once, shimmering between the two like the sheen on a raven's feathers - only green. Gazing back at Teric from over the top of her ample bosom, inlaid into the sort of face that Salvaran bards could only dream of, were eyes as white as sun-bleached bone and befittingly haunting.

"Could you... ah, back up... a bit?" Teric managed after a seemingly endless pause. His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. Worse yet, it took him an unusually long time to pick the right words to use.

The Queen of Unmaking tilted Her head as if contemplating the request, but even as Her chin angled away from him, Teric could still feel those milky eyes on him. Without a word, Jomil took a measured step back, out of the mercenary's personal space, and air rushed back into the war hound's lungs. Conversely, as She stepped towards the fire, the flames crackling happily away in the hearth fluttered and dimmed and if smothered.

"Thank-" Teric muttered, a sudden inability to form a concrete thought causing him to trail off stupidly.

There was another lingering pause as Thayne and mortal stared wordlessly at each other from across a divide that felt less like a few feet and more like the entire, boundless universe. To put into words how strange and unnerving close proximity to a creature of such boundless power can be is difficult, but suffice it to say that Teric's body was alive with the sensation of spider webs clinging to his skin. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and all sense of time or place went right out a window that didn't exist.

Jomil's head ticked at an angle again; that questioning, troubled look that dogs sometimes give you. Her brows arched all-knowingly, as if the deity had suddenly remembered something, and without so much as a word or gesture, clothes beaded on her skin like condensation on a cold window. As pale, naked skin was concealed beneath a simple yet elegant white dress, the world came rushing back in an instant.

"Sorry." Jomil's voice washed over Teric like stale air wafting out of a crypt. Her tone was apologetic, almost meek. The exact opposite of what one assumed the voice of a deity to sound like.

Teric coughed and held his head as the pressure that had been building behind his eyes, forcing out cognitive thought, receded. His mental faculties came back almost as quickly as they had left, but the mother of all headaches came back with them.

"What do you want?" The mercenary groaned when it finally felt like his head wouldn't explode.

"I have a proposal for you." Jomil said simply. There was no flourish, no mincing of words, and no small talk.

"We made a deal once." Teric felt compelled to remind the Goddess, despite the fact that she would no doubt remember.

"For my boon." Jomil nodded slowly, as if to confirm that she did in fact recall their previous dealings. "Which you have put to remarkable use these last twenty-four years. Mortals are usually too stupid, or too soon dead, to realize that the gifts of a Thayne can be exercised like a muscle. You, however, seem to have taken great advantage of this."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Teric tried to sound confident.

"As you should." Jomil sat on empty air, and a chair materialized beneath her almost as an afterthought. One long, deathly pale leg crossed the other, and the Goddess folded her hands in her lap. "I granted you the strength of two men, and you have made it six. I granted you the speed of a hawk, and now you move faster than the eye can follow. You can rend steel with nothing but air, and blind your foes with a snap of your fingers." If it was possible for a Thayne to sound impressed, Jomil did now. "You have proven to be a most worthy recipient of my patronage."

The bed behind him creaked again, and Teric half-turned to check on Sidsa. The way she was tossing and turning, the witch would (in all likelihood) awaken at some point soon.

Try and explain a conversation with an honest to gods Thayne...

"Just tell me what you want." The mercenary said, quietly. Head in his hands, he leaned forward in the chair and put his elbows on his knees. For the briefest of moments, he felt Jomil's gaze leave him and settle elsewhere. It was just a fleeting moment, however, as the Thayne's eyes fell quickly back to him.

"Denebriel's death has changed things." The Queen of Unmaking explained. "A Forgotten One is not simply killed, and when they do die, they often leave things behind. Denebriel, for example, was responsible for locking away a great many things better left out of this world. Without Her presence to preserve the locks, there are now powers stirring in the darker corners of the world."

"Sooo.... what?" Teric replied. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

"You were there when Denebriel died." Jomil's perfect brow furrowed, as if he should have already known the answer. "You, your nephew, the wizard Blueraven. You each now bear a unique connection to the events which are soon to follow."

Teric didn't even pretend to know what the deity meant by that; the machinations of Thaynes were beyond anything he dared comprehend.

"My proposal is this, Barton." Jomil made her way back to the original point. "Serve my interests in the coming months, and I'll make the powers bestowed upon you thus far seem pale by comparison."

"Why me." Was the only thing Teric could think to say.

"Because you did so well before." Jomil shrugged.

"Teric?" Sidsa's voice, groggy from sleep, sent a jolt up Teric's spine. Jomil, the Queen of Unmaking, vanished in the blink of an eye, and the flames in the hearth leapt back to life as if the air in the room had suddenly returned. So quick was Her departure that for a moment, Teric sat staring at the space where Her chair had been, trying to decide if the events of the last minute were even real. "Why didn't you come to bed?"

"Sorry." Teric turned and greeted the witch with a smile. Sidsa had climbed out of bed and was standing next to his chair, her hand on his shoulder. She looked concerned. "Must have lost track of time. Why don't you go back to bed, I'll join you in a minute."

The worry on Sidsa's face deepened.

"Teric, it's morning." She said, pointing to the window closest to the door. Even with the blanket tacked up over the glass, it was hard to mistake the glow of the sun peaking through the cracks. "You feeling alright?"

[orphans]

Exactly one hundred years ago…


“What’s this?” Azza asked as she turned the small cube about as if doing so would answer her question. Across from Azza, a woman with overly long hair and curious brown eyes only giggled. A frown took hold of Azza’s lips as she brought a hand up to scratch her head, disheveling her unkempt white hair. Slowly, she rolled her maroon eyes to the woman before her. “Seriously Besal, what is it?”

More snickering came from the brown eyed woman as she managed softly in a bell-like voice, “A gift, Sister Azza.”

Azza’s face fell as she looked to the woman in exasperation. “Sometimes I wonder why you’re our Matriarch,” Azza began, but quickly stammered out, “N-no offense though. I just thought you’d be more…”

“Formal?” Besal finished as she stood up. “Seeing as it is our first meeting, perhaps I should be.” Looking around the garden patio that was forever locked in winter, she moved to pick a small pink flower covered in snow. “That would be more proper, yes? After a long life though, one tends to not care so much.”

Unsure how to answer the woman, Azza maintained her frown and returned her attention to the small box. She could tell it was made from silver; that much she knew from just looking at it. “You still didn’t answer my question of what it was though.”

A perplexed look settled onto Besal’s delicate features as she looked to Azza. “But I have. It is a gift, no?”

“Alright… what’s in it?”

Slowly, a smile spread itself onto the Matriarch’s face. “Your futures.”

“Come again?”

“Your futures,” Besal repeated, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

A single hand on Azza’s temple did little to alleviate her frustration. To say Azza wasn’t pleased to receive a gift from the Matriarch herself would have been completely mistaken. Azza just wished it didn’t involve so much mystery. “Okay, say for a second I believe this little box holds my… futures. What do I do with it?”

At that question, Besal’s smile faded a bit. “That would be a question that no one can answer, but you.”

“And if I don’t want it?”

Besal blinked her eyes exactly twice in surprise as her head tilted ever so slightly to the right. “You don’t want your futures?”

“I…” she began but frowned once more. “I want a future, but shouldn’t I be striving towards one instead of having many of them given to me?”

Besal chuckled to the answer. “You are wiser than you may think, Sister Azza.”

Visibly reddening from the praise, Azza’s russet wings fluttered slightly as she struggled to recompose herself. “I uh… have my moments?”

Smiling still, Besal nodded her head. “Whatever you choose to do with your futures, I’m sure you’ll navigate just fine and find the future that you want one day.”

“But not today?”

Considering the question, Besal turned slowly as she mused with a quiet hum. “If you can open the box, then you can certainly find out today.”

Inspecting the box more closely this time, Azza glared at it. Somewhere in her mind, it seemed like the right thing to do as she could find neither crack nor breach on any side. “Besal… I don’t think anyone can open this.” Not hearing a response, Azza looked up to find herself alone in the garden patio. “Of course I would get a gift from the Matriarch and not have it explained. Might as well give me a rock and tell me the same thing.”

Fuming in annoyance but with nothing better to do, Azza sat down and began to fiddle with the box for the rest of the day and well into the night. Eventually overcome by frustration, the young woman returned to her room and stashed it away in a corner. There, the box remained as the days turned to weeks, then months, then years.


---------


It was only after Azza had committed her heretical act of slaying her own kin many years later did the silver box crack at an unseen seam. Gradually, the crack slithered horizontally along the sides to weave knots and glyphs. It did so until the small box was aglow with iridescent blue light that brightened the small modest room that was once Azza's.

“Do you regret this, Besal?” a tentative voice asked, wavering on the edge of uncertainty and resolute purpose.

“No, Sakuya, I do not. I feel guilty, yes, but no regrets.” Lifting the glistening box between her gentle hands, Besal enclosed it within her palms slowly. “I’ve awaited nearly two millennia to right my mistakes, Sakuya.”

“But was it necessary to mislead Azza in such a manner?” While a hostile question, Sakuya’s tone was nothing but simple curiosity. Because of such Besal turned with clouded brown eyes and for the first time for centuries, looked tired.

“I mentioned that I felt guilty, no?” Opening her palms, a silver chain ending with a similar colored vial had replaced the box.

Sakuya chuckled at the woman as an absentminded hand lifted to brush at her own wolfen ears. Noticing her actions, she lowered her hands and held them together before glancing to Besal again. “An Oracle’s Grace… are you sure your heart is ready for this, mother?”

For a long time, Besal made no movement to respond and kept her eyes locked on the pendant. “I’m as sure as Azza wanting freedom…”

[Christoph]

Sorry for the delay, everyone. Thank you all for you participation and patience. Here are the results:

*

Artemis: Let me open by saying that you have come a long way since I last worked with you on your writing. I'm impressed by your progress. Hopefully my commentary here can help you continue along your path of improvement.

The first thing that I noticed is that you tried to cram too much information into sentences. To explain, you would take a sentence about one thing, often describing an action of some kind, and then tack on some extraneous information. This distracted from the action. Now, some of the information you present this way (visual details of objects and characters) need not be removed entirely, but rather given their own sentences to give the reader whatever information you believe necessary before moving on to the action or whatever else.

I liked the opening of the conversation. I first started reading only expecting to scan the first paragraph or two and return to it later after playing some Skryim. Instead, I ended up forgetting about Skyrim and reading on. That is no small feat, my friend. I think you waited too long to reveal Artemis's dilemma, though. It would have worked better to just say that he was considering his stance in the war right away. I liked the concept of Judicis. You did a good job of presenting it and making it interesting.

My primary gripes with your entry are that your story ended before it ever went anywhere. You wrote the start of something and then just... stopped. This resulted in the second problem; you failed follow the prompted very strongly. Your only ties to this round's prompt were some veiled implications rather than something that actually happened in the story. You set up something nice, and I was highly surprised and disappointed to see your post's sudden end. Had you continued and made the story progress into something, going through some sort of actual plot and conflict, you could have been a serious contender for this round.


Sagequeen: I've never read your writing before, and I have to say that your prose is pretty good. You've got a fair bit of subtle elegance and finesse in your style. You do fall into the trap of overdoing it, though. I like literary flair as much as the next guy, but remember that the more you use figurative language and other literary techniques, the less impact they have. Keep a sense of proper emphasis and always ask yourself the purpose of each metaphor and fancy turn of phrase. Also, try not to drag such passages on. A strong piece of figurative language is often concise, emphasizing and enhancing the subject rather than distracting from it. Your bit describing the dying child's pallor in the very first paragraph provides a perfect example of this. It was a nice idea, and I liked what you intended, but you overdid it. Specifically, you probably could have simply left out the words "in a downpour".

You repeat words unnecessarily here and there and had some instances of weak verbs and inefficient prose (feel free to contact me if you're not sure what the heck I'm talking about, lol). For example: "was a stark contrast to" might have worked better as "starkly contrasted". I'm nitpicking here, but I like to give everyone some practical tips for improvement. Speaking of nitpicking, the following caught my attention: "lisping the r in his name" -- I don't think you can lisp an R sound. (I might be wrong, but I think you might have meant that she -rolled- the R.) That said, I didn't count it against you, so don't worry.

My main issue with your entry was the overall narrative. It felt like you had a storyline in your mind that explained everything going on in your vignette, but then you started your entry too far into said story. That made it a bit tricky to figure out what was going on and what the characters were talking about a lot of the time. Obviously you clarified it by the end, but you essentially skipped over the first half of the prompt, giving it only a cursory nod in the middle, and at the end as you described the boon's drawback in more detail. I would have liked to read about Erissa receiving her strange powers first.

I liked your characters, though I would have preferred a little more information about them. Still, you showed me quite a bit about their relationship through their interactions, which is always a plus. Also, where Artemis perhaps gave too much visual information about his characters, you didn't give enough. It wasn't a big deal, as such details weren't particularly important, but it's always nice to let the reader know what he's supposed to see.


Blackdog1: I like that you wrote a complete story with a solid beginning, middle, and end. You stayed true to the prompt and portrayed both how Milo received the gift and transitioned into the catch. The concept you chose was solid, though you could have paced it better. A few extra paragraphs worth of writing overall would have helped better develop and more smoothly transition between each of Milo's readings.

Your prose suffered from two main problems. First, you overused weak verbs quite a bit (was, be, is, etc), which generally made your writing feel drier and less precise than it should have been. Feel free to PM me or catch me on AIM if you would like some helpful tips and advice on the matter. Second, you too often tell rather than show. For instance, take the following: ""Thank you for your time and labor", the gypsy woman said with far more drama than was necessary". I find myself asking what you meant by that. What made her thanks dramatic? Her hand gestures, her tone of voice? Don't just tell the reader something. Show them. Let them see why and how.

In closing, while you fell short in its execution, I liked your plot idea.



Aegis of Esperidion: Your opening paragraph suffered from a common pitfall of trying too hard. In an effort to use some literary flair, you overdid it with adjectives. If you want to be fancy, spice up your prose with some figurative language or other literary techniques. A common problem that you haven't escaped: you use "was" and other weak verbs more often than necessary. It didn't become a huge problem with your entry, but it's always something to look out for. You had some instances of repeating words in close proximity as well. For example: "His heraldry was the heraldry of the Knights of Rousay". Feel free to contact me for further explanation on the subject if you're not sure what I mean.

There was clearly some subtext regarding the relationship between the two characters in the opening conversation that you didn't properly explain. It would have given the beginning of your entry a bit more context and meaning. You also waited far too long to set the scene for your story. You would have done better to describe the surroundings at the beginning. And finally, you set up your character being presented with and receiving the gift of a knighthood, but leave the 'catch' at best implied.

Random nitpicky things: "On his left hip was a sword almost an exact replica" -- I think you're missing something here, and the sentence on the whole would benefit from some syntax adjustment. And... Protip: "Base of the hilt" is called the "pommel". :P



Whispers of Abyssion: You took a classic approach to theme. I can respect that. While it wasn't exactly fresh or original, you made it feel authentic, which is just as good in my book. You clearly possess a strong grasp of your narrative style. You gave the scene a dark and foreboding tone that fit it well. I think you fell a bit short at the end, though. Obviously, this deal causes the suffering of many others, but you didn't portray its negative effects on Touma very strongly. You said that he lost his innocence, but what does that mean? He essentially sidestepped having to give up his soul to bring forth this demon. Perhaps you could have concluded with him realizing in some way that he has damned himself anyway through his actions. Something like that. I wanted to see just a little bit more.

As for the characters, what you gave me was good, but I wanted more. I can tell that both the demon and Touma are likely fascinating characters, but they fell a little flat in your vignette because you didn't give the reader enough about them. They were like pretty paintings -- appealing in their way and well-made, but ultimately two-dimensional. Then again, I'm probably nitpicking by now, haha.

You have a solid writing style that flows nicely and paints strong mental pictures. You tend to stumble when describing people, though. Also, I wish you had described the 'mana' a little more clearly. I got a vague impression of a misty miasma, but I wasn't sure. Feel free to get a little figurative when describing something supernatural. You had a few odd word choices sprinkled throughout the story, such as "young boy howled back", that I didn't feel fit where I found them. Also, in a paragraph about halfway through, you wrote a very repetitive passage -- " brimstone like sulphurous egg, decay like a necromantic graveyard". And so forth. You format many of the sentences and pieces of sentences as "X like Y." I realize that you might have done this intentionally, but I don't think it had the desired effect.


Wings of Endymion: You used a strong style in this entry, though you also had some instances of what I call 'inefficient prose'. In other words, at times you use more words than necessary, or generally describe something in a manner more complicated than you needed to. This breaks up the flow a bit and draws the reader out of the story. For instance: "Her painfully slender form impacted against the cold packed earth" -- 'impacted against the cold packed earth' would be tighter as ' stuck the cold packed earth."

Another random nitpick: In the fourth paragraph (second if you don't count single lines), you describe her face as "set against the pain", which evokes an image of a stony and determined expression. Then in the next paragraph you said she "was smiling", which contradicted the mental image I had formed based on your writing. I doubt you intended this as a contradiction, but as we know, a writer's intention doesn't matter if said intention isn't transferred properly to the reader. Fortunately, the fix is really simple, and hopefully this concept will stick with you and help you in the future. Simply change "was smiling" to "smiled", making it an active sentence describing an action as it happens. It would describe a change in her expression, rather than potentially confusing the reader with contradictory descriptions of her pre-existing expression. And if I've stopped making any bit of sense by now, feel free to shoot me a PM or an IM and I'll give explaining it another go, lol.

On a similar note: "her child’s voice quavering and just about holding firm." This suffers from two clarity issues. First, you say "her child's voice", which sounds like you're talking about somebody else -- IE: her child. Obviously, I realized what you meant, but it jarred me out of the story again. Second, you describe her voice as both quavering and just about holding firm. Which is it? Those two things are usually mutually exclusive. Now, don't despair. Take this nitpicking as a compliment. This is pretty in-depth stuff, and I only got into so much detail because your work is at quite a high level already. This forces me to dig a little deeper to give you useful feedback. I found a bunch of little things like this in your story, though some of it might have resulted from poor proofreading. Again, please shoot me a message if you would like me to go over it with you in more detail.

I promised myself I wouldn't, but I'll include one more example: " were now streaming" -- Try "now streamed".

On a less technical note, I think you should have just gone out and revealed the identity of the man overtly in the paragraph where you describe his appearance. There's nothing gained by not doing so. The story itself was simple but emotionally powerful. You paced it well and made me care about the characters. Best of all, you effectively touched on both elements of the prompt within the story. Overall, well done.



Flames of Hyperion: You gave us a short entry and an interesting take on the prompt. I loved the gift, but you never fully explained the catch or drawback. You seemed to rely on veiled implication, but I definitely didn't catch what you intended, if you intended anything. It would have been as simple as revealing the other speaker in the first and third parts, and giving some details as to the situation, to give the exchanges (which were well-written otherwise) some context.

I don't have much to say about your writing style, as it did not feature prominently in this story (which consisted primarily of dialogue). I think you overdid some of the reactions of the two characters in the middle section. I get the awkwardness of youth. We've all experienced it. I just think you overdid it a little bit, made it feel somewhat exaggerated when a slightly more subtle touch would have served better. Despite that, it was pretty cute. Even for me, and I have a heart of stone and all that jazz.


Ruby La Roux: I like how you gift-wrapped the gift, ha. Not metaphorical interpretation for you! No sir. I can respect that. You formed a strong hook right away without wasting much time. Though you slowed down a bit too much later, your opening got me interested. You had some of the best character development in the round. I can't say that I really LIKED your character (I didn't dislike her, mind), but I got a strong feel for who she is.

Your style is pretty solid, I have to say. As somebody who really hasn't read your work since a good ways back, I'm impressed by your progress. I would describe your style as simple but clean, which is certainly acceptable. I did stumble across a few odd bits here and there (you know where to find me for more details). Also, mentioning a Christmas present, even in comparison, didn't feel right since this is Althanas and not Earth. You made a lot of mention to the fireplace and then never did anything with it. That made me sad.

You also took waaaay too long to reveal the gift itself. The delay didn't create suspense, but rather annoyance. You certainly didn't gain anything by not just telling the reader as soon as she opened the box. You could have still explained the history of it all after showing us what it was. If anything, it would have worked even better given the nature of the gift. A rose petal is a strange sort of gift, especially delivered in such a package. It would have piqued my interest much more effectively and made me must more intrigued regarding the explanation behind it.

I like the nature of the gift. It was unique and carried a lot of emotional weight, even if touched on a lot of seemingly complex backstory that I wasn't familiar with. Unfortunately, you never really established a strong drawback.


Duffy: You seemed to stumble for an opening with this entry, going in a little circle before moving ahead. I liked how you described the city. I felt immersed in it. Your style was solid for the most part, if a bit simple.+1 Internet for using the word "strumpets". Also, watch repeated words -- "a man with a moustache from which a man could hang his tie collection". You used "a man" twice. And finally, you failed to portray any real drawback to the 'gift' Duffy received. Or rather, you turned the prompted in reverse, starting with something back that unexpected turned into a boon. On one hand, you broke away from the prompt's guidelines a bit more than I would have liked, but on the other hand, it was cleverly done. Cleverly enough so that I finished the story feeling annoyed that you had ignored the prompt, only to think back and go, "I see what you did there."


Sheex: As a man who works in sales, I love portrayals of sleazy salesmen in literature. Have I got a deal for you! So, brownie points for you on that front. Overall, I liked the story concept and the overall direction of the plot. You covered your bases with the prompt and etched out an amusing little misadventure. You did stumble on your execution, though.

You use parentheses a LOT. I'm not one of those types who think they have no place in creative writing, but I definitely advocate using them sparingly. Your opening paragraph stumbled a bit with its very odd tense structure. You painted a nice picture, but it felt a bit sloppy. You've got a decent developing style, but you seemed... how to put this... unsure of yourself. You had a penchant for using a lot of words to describe something that required far fewer more precise and effective words. For instance: "The man's smile flickered like the ember of a flame that had not been quite put out." We know that embers come from flames, so you need not state that. Honestly something like "flickered like a dying ember", for example, would have served much more effectively if you made some minor adjustments to the second part of the sentence. It's just a suggestion and example, of course. You could have improved it in a variety of different ways.

Despite all those shortcomings, your story amused me in its off-beat, cheesy, tongue-in-cheek, genre savvy, forehead-slapping sort of way. It makes me want to suggest something radical -- perhaps you should switch to first person and see how that suits you. I bet it'd fit your style quite well. And if you order now, these compliments and tips will be yours, along with a free pair of kitchen shears, for three easy payments of...



Sei: You had a decent core concept -- a stressed hero looking for a break. You stayed true to the prompt, which is good. You perhaps rushed through the receiving of the gift and the catch, moving quickly to Sei weaseling out of the drawback, but it wasn't terribly rushed by vignette standards.

Your writing felt a bit rushed, and I spotted a fair number of typos throughout the story. You also suffered from a general lack of polish -- odd wordings, sentences and paragraphs that just didn't flow right, and so forth. I figure you just didn't have the time to proofread as extensively as you should have. It also felt like you couldn't settle on a narrative point of view early on. At first, you seemed to write from Sei's PoV, but then started telling the reader about things Sei specifically didn't see. Third-person omniscient is a hard but perfectly acceptable method. Just stick to it if you want to go that direction, or make sure to avoid it if you're not intending to use it.

Your story's main weak point was dialogue. Both what they actually said and how you presented it fell flat with me, unfortunately. I had a tough time believing the characters or getting a realistic feel for their relationship. Their interactions just didn't fit or flow well. Also, you mentioned that Sei is both a mute and a telepath, which is fine. As someone unfamiliar with your character, I would have liked for you to show as well as tell; show the reader how he communicates. Describe the process and the sensations. Give the verbal exchanges more life.


Bloodrose: You took an interesting and rather subtle take on the prompt, if maybe a little too subtle. I liked the idea that the drawback of his boon was getting roped into even more service to creepy goddesses, heh. I liked your dialogue and characterization well enough, though the goddess came off as a bit too human to me. Also, you lose automatically for using different font colors. ... ... >_>

Jokes aside, you did take a little too long to really get going. You spent too much time in the opening paragraph describing things that just weren't that important. Setting the scene is all well and good, and painting a good mental picture for your readers is certainly important, but use moderation and keep a sense of what is and isn't crucial to the story. Also, while your prose is generally strong and you have a good personal style and voice, you tended to... overwrite things a little. By that I mean you expressed things inefficiently at times, using more words than necessary. Sometimes it feels like you're trying to add too much unnecessary information. Other times your prose sounds too... how to put it... too casual. Accost me over PM or AIM and I'll go over some examples in more detail. All in all, it was still a very solid entry, though perhaps not as good as I expect from you.


Orphans: Your dialogue has always been your strongest area, and it remains true here. I found the words exchanged believable and the character development effective. On the negative side, you tended to over-describe actions. For example: "as she brought a hand up to scratch her head" -- it's generally understood that one needs to bring up her hand to scratch her own head. No need to point that detail out specifically. I wish you had described Besal a little more in the first paragraph, give the reader a clearer picture of her age. You also get a little overly wordy in some spots, but not terribly so. Other than those issues, your writing style is pretty solid.

My primary concern with your entry is that I never really understood what was going on, or why it was important. I also found it difficult to piece together a strong tie to the round's prompt. The gift was not portrayed as anything great or desirable to your character, and the drawback was at best hinted at and never really portrayed or explained. I would probably understand everything were I familiar with your character, but you should never depend on the reader knowing anything about the characters and metaplot not actually included in the story itself.

***

Results!

This was a fairly close round with a few strong contenders. In the end, Wings of Endymion comes in first, with Sagequeen and Bloodrose tied for a close second place. Congratulations, and well done to everyone! I hope to see you all in the upcoming rounds. Keep up the good work.