AC: Round 2 - Group 6

[Zack Blaze]

He was escorted through a hallway of white, into a wide open area. When he stepped out into the open, helped by the rough hand of Nonag's thugs, he was temporarily blinded by the bright lights above. He could hear both the cheering applause and the jeering boos of a crowd above him. Zack took a heavy swallow as his orbs readjusted to this new light, rolling his shoulders and raising his fists to his face. "Ladies and gentleman, for out next fight, we present the challenger, Jack Blaze!!!"

The crowd (well, most of the crowd anyways) went wild with the call of his name. Zack raised an eyebrow and lowered his guard slightly; unsure if the applause was due to the people knowing his name, or if they were just glad to have a fresh face in the arena. "God damnit!" Zack yelled in frustration, his foot slamming into the ground several times, kicking up a cloud of dust. "It's Zack! Zack Blaze! Not Jack! If you're going to announce me, at least do it right!" It was hard to make one's name known if people knew him by the wrong name, after all.

"And his opponent," the announcer went on, ignoring Zack's plea at a correction, "You know him as the single punch wonder, the K.O kid, the end of the very world itself. Ladies and gentleman, I give you, RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGNAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!!!"

The arena went dark, quickly hushing the audience as a single spotlight shined on a wide entryway across from Zack. In the limited light, the youth could see that they were indeed in a large cage. Above them was nothing but intertwined steel designed to keep combatants in, and belligerent drunks out. Zack looked back to the spotlight, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the man known as Ragnarok. He was well over eight feet tall, his hair braided into a long ponytail, the end peeking out from between his legs. He had the shoulder width the size of two fully grown men, and his skin was a sickening shade of green. Zack took a hard swallow and cracked his knuckles. "An orc....great..." the teen mumbled sarcastically to himself.

"Fight!" the order from the announcer had shot out so fast, that Zack had to take a moment to register what the man had actually said. That moment of hesitation gave Ragnarok an opportunity, the large orc being surprisingly fast on his feet as he rushed towards the boy, throwing a fist right at his face. Zack raised his forearms in time, deflecting the blow by only milliseconds. The shot was hard though, and sent Zack sliding backwards across the ground, creating another cloud of dirt. He bit his lower lip, holding on to one of his arms. The bone felt like it had been shattered by that single punch, but the fact that Zack could still move the limb without screaming like a little girl proved that this was not the case.

"Well, now I know why he's the KO kid..." Zack mumbled, shifting his head to the left and then right in order to pop the bones in his neck, "Let's see if I have what it takes to stop the end of the world. Just hope Elijah's having better luck than me..."

[Christoph]

Ever alert, Elijah crept through the dreary stone corridors beneath the club. While no master of stealth, a youth spent working in a tavern and sneaking past sleeping guests taught him how to move quietly. Not that it seemed necessary thus far, as aside from the guard outside his cell, no living soul walked these halls. Not that I can blame them. It smells like dead fish soaked in cheap ale down here. At last he found the stairs.

As he ascended, the old, mossy granite changed to newer reddish brick. Gas lamps replaced torches and the terrible stench faded away, replaced by the musk of sweat and blood. He heard distant cheering; his ally's fight had already begun. Make it last, Zack.

A couple of guards patrolled the upper levels, but their security was clearly understaffed. Elijah stayed quiet and kept out of sight. Without any clear sense of direction, he simply tried to head what felt like 'inward' and let his instincts guide him. Twice, he almost rounded a corner into a guard's line of site, but each time their heavy footsteps warned him just in time. Finally, just before frustration got the better of him, he nearly stumbled into the vault. It was a massive, thick door of solid steel at the end of a long hallway. He had found their objective at last; now he just needed to get inside. That, he thought to himself, jokingly lamenting not choosing a career as a professional thief, should not be too hard.

Glancing back down the empty hall, Elijah placed both palms upon the vault's door. He focused and muttered a series of cryptic words. His awareness expanded, pushing its way into the cold steel. For that moment, he knew it as intimately as a brother or lover. In his mind's eye, he saw the door's entire life: the day dwarf slaves pulled the ore from the ground and smelted it; the great, hot foundry that forged it; the shady contractors who secretly installed it to protect ill-gotten wealth. It was a strong barrier, but Elijah now knew its weaknesses.

His near-breathless chant sped up, now laced with ancient cipher of Orcish shamans. The shining steel grew dull at his touch. This new spell sucked the metal's strength away like a leech. Thirty seconds passed. Cracks spread across its surface. Satisfied, he traced a flowing rune across the scarred metal surface and stepped back. With a push of will and focus, he conjured a fiery explosion that blasted the weakened door apart. The sorcerer cringed as the noise echoed through the halls. Time to hurry.

He rushed through the ragged hole, into the vault. The interior defied his expectations by being extremely mundane. Four chests sat against the side wall along with some thick canvas sacks surely filled with coins. Elijah had no interest in such things. Instead, a marble pedestal at the opposite end caught his eye. He moved to inspect closer; upon it sat two gems, swirling with green and blue like a deep sea. He could easily sense the depth of their power. He snatched them up.

He found his sword at last, hanging on a plaque between two unremarkable spears. He reached for it.

“You're a dead man.” The voice came from the vault's shattered entrance. Elijah turned to see the guard he'd fought outside standing before him, flanked by two he didn't recognize. All stripped from the waist up, they displayed similar tattoos upon their chests and brandished knives and vicious brass knuckles.

“So I've been told, many times in my life. Yet, here I stand.” Elijah grinned, wide and toothy like a shark, with a predatory glint in his eyes. He had hoped to avoid senseless killing, but little choice remained. His fingers closed the hilt of his sword and pulled it down. Icy tendrils slithered up his arm, into his chest like snakes. Arcane words rushed from his lips as familiar power surged through him. He felt faster and stronger; he felt whole once more!

The three brutes rushed him. Belov struck with supernatural speed, his blade an extension of his arm. His blade lashed out in blinding arcs, slashing through his foe's flesh like paper. Their wards offered no protection against his sword's razor edge. He ducked under a dagger thrust and lunged forward, cutting open their leader's belly. Blood sizzled on his blade, wicked magic pouring from it. Wounded flesh ignited and soon tortured wails filled the vault. It all happened in an instant. Elijah Belov, Pagoda Master and one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world, left three smoldering corpses behind him.

It was time to escape. Now, where is Zack?

[Zack Blaze]

The fight was quickly turning to a game of tag for the young Zack Blaze, wherein the person (or rather, orc), who was ‘it’ would kill his victim if tagged. Zack would duck under a punch here, and deliver an unremarkable body blow to the ribs. For every uppercut that was side-stepped, the boy returned with a fruitless jab to the taller warriors face. The fighter was quickly starting to see now why his physique had not made the eye of the bouncers. They had been trying to protect him from Ragnarok.

Eventually, Zack found himself backed into a wall, Ragnarok charging towards him with all of his orcish might. The boy closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable when there was a giant rumble throughout the entire arena. The cheers for Zack’s murder stopped temporarily as the people wondered about the source of the tremor. Even the large Ragnarok paused for a moment, delaying his charge just enough to give his opponent the opportunity to escape.

Zack ran towards the monster’s side, throwing a roundhouse kick towards the ribs of his foe. His heel connected with a sickening thud, and the roar of the giant orc was enough to send the audience back into a frenzy. Zack stumbled backwards, trying to regain his footing as he hobbled around the arena, his ankle pulsating as if he had just kicked a house. He lowered his now injured foot, nursing it a bit as he jumped to and fro, the majority of his weight placed on his left foot.

Think Zack, think…. the street fighter analyzed the situation, trying to figure out best how to defeat his enemy. Orcs…orcs… big, mostly stupid, feel like a ton of bricks when hitting or being hit by. There’s got to be some way to….maybe…

Zack gained some distance between him and the arena champion, cupping his hands against one another as if he were holding a ball of some sort. Ragnarok tilted his head, his eyes narrowed as if trying to see the object Zack was holding. In all reality, Zack was just trying to buy time, to intimidate his foe through his mime skills. It was a long shot, but maybe he could gain a psychiatric advantage on the overpowered beast.

Zack ‘threw’ the ball, his opponent throwing his hands in front of him in a flinch. Zack grinned, shaking his head and pointing a finger towards Ragnarok like a mother scolding her child. “You’re just lucky I missed,” Zack said, “My aim has been a little off since your people knocked me out. “

Ragnarok looked to the boy as if he didn’t understand his words, resuming the charge he had started so many seconds ago. Zack responded by lifting his hand up, his fingers intricately positioned to give the illusion of holding something invisible. In Zack’s mind, it was firecrackers, but he didn’t know what his opponent would think of the display. As Ragnarok closed in, a few feet from his pray, Zack threw the non-existent firecrackers down, the charging orc slowing his attack and even outright trying to avoid whatever he thought the boy had thrown.

This was his best chance to act. Zack jumped towards his foe, his momentum propelled mostly from his left foot. He slammed a fist into the temple of the creature, causing Ragnarok to take a step back. The crowd gasped as Zack brutally laid fist after fist into the warriors face. Why wouldn’t they be shocked? Zack asked himself, For them, it’s entertainment, for me, it’s about survival…

With each connected blow from the faster Zack, Ragnarok seemed to lower his head more and more, giving the street fighter more opportunities to knock the taste out of the beast’s mouth. Spit and blood flew from left to right as Zack’s fists furiously alternated into the large jaw of his foe, until finally Ragnarok fell onto his back, Zack’s own fists covered in tears and crimson from not letting up. He was sure after the adrenaline rush subsided, his hands would hurt like no tomorrow, but for now he reveled in the announcer shouting his name in surprise. The crowd was silent for a few moments, perhaps distraught over what they had just witnessed, but then a wave of applause assaulted all those able to hear.

The door from whence Zack had come opened back up, and the street fighter took a quick bow before bolting for the exit. There were no signs of any guards now, had Elijah taken them all out? The boy could feel his body shaking, his adrenaline leaving him as he searched for his friend amongst the twisting and turning halls. He found the chef mage busy frying some unsuspecting suit in the middle of a random hallway. A grin was painted across the teen’s face, the thought that his words had such an impact on the wizard pleasing him. “Let’s go!” Zack barked, causing Eli to turn towards the boy

“Go where?”

“Well, if you got what we came for, then there’s no better place to go than where this round started…” And with that, Zack approached Eli at a fast pace, his throbbing hands searing with just barely bearable pain. “Let’s find the roof…”

((Zack's finale.))

[Christoph]

Another roof. I shouldn't be surprised.

The pair rushed through the halls, chased by a chorus of angry voices. Exhilaration rushed through him as they sprinted up flights of stairs. Finally, his sword was back in his hand! Its magic awakened him, filled with him life and vigor. He felt indestructible. Only his practical sensibilities kept him from turning on his pursuers, from unleashing the full might of his renewed power. They found what they came to find; they needed a clean escape, not an ever-growing pile of smoldering corpses.

They crashed through the door at the top of the stairs; a blast of night air greeted them. Even tainted by Ettermire's industrial smog, it felt as fresh as a snowy mountain compared to inside the club. Nonag burst onto the roof after them, followed by seven predictably huge and well-dressed guards. Elijah backed away, holding one arm protectively in front of Zack and pointing his sword menacingly at their foes. .

“Now Elijah. Eli. Kinsman.” The club boss stepped forward, forcing a carefree grin onto his face. “You're good. I'll give you that, but it's over. You're cornered up here with us.”

“Is that so?” Belov replied, raising an eyebrow in smug amusement. “And here I thought you were cornered up here with me.”

Like I said, you're good.” The boss took a step forward. “But not that good. It's just you and your pal there. I have seven guards.”

“Specifically, what you have are men paid to fight,” Belov replied with a smirk, continuing to step back until his foot hit the railing. “And the futile hope that they are all willing to die in agony before they even get close enough to spit on me.”

Nonag laughed. “Ha! This smug traitor finds a fancy sword and suddenly things he's indestructible!” He reached into his suit jacket, as did three of his henchmen. “We have fancy weapons too.” Suddenly, four gun barrels pointed at Elijah. His grin vanished. They had flintlock pistols!

Now that's inconvenient, the sorcerer thought. The speed and brutal power of firearms limited his spell-casting options. While he could certain incinerate the entire mob with his magic, a single pistol shot could ruin his entire evening. And they couldn't make their escape with four loaded pistols ready to shoot them in the back.

The boss spoke again. “Now, I don't want to blast your brains all over this city. Someone like you, on a short leash, could make me rich.” He pulled back the lever on his pistol. “But a good gambler knows when to cut his losses. What'll it be?”

Eli sighed dramatically, rapidly reviewing his spell repertoire. “I'm too tired for more witty retorts, so you'll have to settle for this.” His grin returned as his plan took shape. “Go rot in hell?” Nonag snarled and pulled the trigger.

Aleran guns were fast, unforgiving weapons that revolutionized how an entire nation fought wars. A single twitch of the finger could end a life. Yet, even faster than a twitch was a thought. Especially the well-honed thoughts of a renowned sorcerer. Four gunshots echoed through the night; lead balls fired at the two escaped captives. Midair, they bounced off an invisible barrier, sending distorted ripples through the air.

“Damn you!” Nonag roared. “How many tricks do you have?”

Eli's smile widened. “Just one more.” It was time for the obvious final step. Belov looked to Zack and the two jumped off the roof. For the second time that night, powerful and unnatural wind swept up and slowed their fall, settling them softly upon the street like a gentle hand. They slipped away into the night, angry shouts fading into the distance.

Concluded.

[Revenant]

Plot: (20)

Storytelling (7) – Setting your thread was an interesting take on the prompt. All said, you had a quick, clear beginning with a set finish point, built to a nice climax, and then finished it cleanly without leaving anything left hanging. There were points that would have been better had there been some elaboration and some built up points, but that’s the nature of the timed tournament rounds, I suppose.

Setting (6) – While this thread was notionally set in Alerar, there wasn’t much to distinguish it as such from any other city with a seedy underbelly. Once in the fighting pit, I felt there was a lot of areas that could really have benefitted from a bit more of an in depth description. Zack is a competent and practiced street fighter and should feel at home in a place like that, and showing that descriptively is something that would have really put this over.

Pacing (7) – You maintained a good flow throughout the story, even managing to keep things smooth and clear when Eli and Zack split. As mentioned above, this thread did feel quite rushed, a natural downside of tournament writing I suppose. Still, you two worked well with what you had.

Character: (22)

Communication (8) – You really showcased who your characters were here. Zack, as the cocky bastard didn’t go overboard and had a realistic feel to him. Eli really came off as world-weary until Zack’s inspirational speech near the end, at which point his fire returned in a way that was utterly believable. I was very impressed at how Zack, who seems to think he’s better than everybody, finally meets someone he really looks up to only to realize that his idol is human too and how it lights an indignant fire in him the spreads, both literally and figuratively, to Eli. That was probably the best part of this whole thread and really showcased the characters attitudes.

Action (6) – This thread had plenty of action, from the fights to the repeated use of magic to do something as simple as descend from a rooftop. It really gave a good feel to Eli’s character, how the magic has become second nature to him so much so that it’s the first thing he thinks of whenever anything needs to be done. Zack’s pantomiming showcased his ability to think his way out of problems, even if it stretched belief quite a bit. The biggest issue I had here was the fight you two had to gain entry into the fighting pit when Eli throws a couple of punches and then just relies on trying to burn his opponents to death, a point which Zack later asks why he didn’t. Though the brawl wasn’t exactly friendly, you didn’t make it clear that the toughs were going to be doing anything more than roughing you two up a bit and then tossing you back into the street, which is why the obviously lethal attempt seemed like a really out of place escalation. Sometimes, just beating someone senseless is enough.

Persona (8) – The notion that sometimes characters aren’t above all the everyday shit that plagues us is what makes them relatable and invests readers in their story and you two did a good job of showcasing that. Both of your characters came off a human. Sure they’re extraordinary humans but they definitely felt like real people with real problems. Again, I would have loved to have seen this as a fully written thread, if only to give you more time to really develop your characters into the story.

Prose: (22)

Mechanics (6) – A little over a handful of spelling errors and areas where the wrong word was used. Most of these were in Zack’s posts, and while I understand that there were issues with your posting abilities in the middle of the round, these were simple things that a spell check could have found.

Clarity (9) – There was really no part that was unclear. Sometimes elegance is simplicity.

Technique (7) – Good use of the prompt to come up with an interesting story, though again this could have been better and if you’d had more time to invest I would bet that it would be.

Wildcard: (6)

Total: 68

Christoph receives 1131 exp and 95 gp.
Zack Blaze receives 561 exp and 80 gp.