LCC - R1: The Osynligs VS Chivalry & Savagery

[Glories of Myrmidion]

Though neither particularly intelligent nor well educated, Jehan held firm to two beliefs pertinent to his current situation. First, that although little better than animals rutting and bickering in their caves, orcs had certain primal instincts – their keen senses, their bestial cunning, their ferocity in battle – that a warrior of the north did well to heed. Second, that only those both superstitious and foolish acknowledged and feared the existence of the supernatural.

Like any good soldier, the knight of the Golden Eagle did pay homage to certain personal superstitions, believing that had helped keep him alive thus far in his war-torn life. He tied his britches in a certain fashion for luck, kissed his blade whenever he faced battle, and wiped it clean thrice on each side before sheathing it again. But Jehan Leitdorf, big and oafish as he might seem to another’s eyes, was nobody’s fool.

Thus when the orc at his side bellowed something fierce and deflected a blow on his shield, Jehan withdrew his gleaming longsword from its leather scabbard and brought it to his lips in time-honoured ritual. When the orc roared again and shoved forward with all his might, the knight stepped to flank his as-yet unseen opponent, far more dextrously than anybody wearing so much armour had any right to move. When the orc’s momentum carried him powerfully across the courtyard he kept pace with the ringing echo of metal against stone, waiting for either his ally to overextend or their opponent to reveal himself. The bludgeoning steel in his hands poised overhead amidst curling tendrils of mist, ready to decapitate with a single mighty blow.

Compared to the wars he had fought in the north, to the whispered whistles that heralded a wyrmkin ambush or the mindless savagery of Those Who Came from the Deeps, he enjoyed the certain simplicity of his current fight. Something had attacked him and his companion, without warning or explanation.

He was therefore fully justified in beating it back to the abyss where it belonged.

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas jumped to the side as the orc plowed forward trying to run him over. He then swung the mallet again, this time aiming for the back of the disgusting orc's head. First I have a rude woman for a partner, now I have to fight a stinkin' orc. What's next, a knight who actually fights along side an orc? He thought as his mallet drew closer to the orc's head.

[Tusk]

Throm huffed through his nose when his shield met nothing of substance. For the briefest moment he wondered if there was no foe – what if this was some sort of possessed weapon, a wizard-trick? The skraelings were legendary for their love of wizards and their indecorous illusions and games, and the thought that he was being made a fool of by some scrawny geezer in a dress was infuriating.

But no. He watched the weapon move suddenly to the side, jostling and shifting the way it would in the hands of a man, and then it came up and swung around as if to get behind him before falling into its arc. It was an easy thing to raise his shield high, and then bend his arm so that the shield rested against his upper back. Once again the mallet met wood with an echoing crack, with force amplified only by its own weight and nothing more, and then fell away again. This time Throm unsheathed his sword with his free hand and slashed in a wide arc as he twisted. If there were an unseen man holding that mallet, the orc gauged his legs would be within that space, and with the mallet held so high what could interrupt the blade’s path?

And besides, if somehow there were a way to turn his blade aside, Jehan was now on the far side of the floating mallet. Their invisible adversary was trapped between a rock and a hard place, and both had pointy bits.

[Glories of Myrmidion]

The mallet danced lazily in the mist, a wondrously spry object that upon first glance had a devious mind of its very own. But Jehan had trained from a young age with sword and axe and mace, and he could tell from its movements that something intelligent wielded the stout length of wood. The orc obviously thought the same, and cornered their unseen adversary well. Jehan had to give it to Throm, he did know how to fight. Especially with those ugly long limbs of his.

So when the orc’s hacking blade slashed low and fierce, Jehan raised his own blade in challenge and swung high from the opposite direction, right across their illusory opponent’s back. Thick arms bulged beneath gleaming vambraces as they hefted his heavy sword, careful not to extend to the point where the orc would be caught in its reach.

“Show yourself, knave,” he bellowed to the thin air, more as distraction than in real hope of getting his opponent to obey. “Or would you rather die an unseen coward too?”

It didn’t really cross his mind that should either his or his companion’s blows leave a mark, their foe wouldn’t be so invisible any more. One way or another, the mallet-wielder would be unveiled.

[Tourneymant]

"Show yourself Knave"
Why did I have to jinx myself? Barnabas thought hearing the man behind him. He dove between the blades, not letting them make contact. As he did so, his mallet rolled with him revieling his movement to his foes.
"Or would you rather die an unseen coward too?" the man finished as Barnabas rolled to keep from hurting himself.
As soon as he was out of harms way he turned back to the men. "I'm afraid that you misunderstand, only the sun can reveal me for I am nothing but a shimmer." Barnabas said as the sun started to rise from the sea, burning away the last of the fog to reveal Barnabas's size to the men.

[Tusk]

The sword met nothing, and when Jehan recovered from his swing the blade of his greatsword was equally clean. Throm’s mind puzzled at it for an instant while he tracked the fall of the mallet, and part of him wondered again if there wasn’t anything to strike. What if this man were formed from air, and not simply invisible?

Their opponent answered that question immediately, announcing his presence with voice, and then revealing himself – at least to a degree. The orc growled, eyeing the mist surrounding them with a single cautious glance. It seemed a natural blanket to him, a common enough phenomena beside the sea as this queer city was, but now it seemed this hidden wizard had some level of control over it. It made sense: a solid being could scarce be seen through the cloud, what a boon for a being that’s already nearly incapable of being seen.

Nearly incapable, for now Jehan and Throm could make out the silhouette of an exceptionally tall skraeling. The pair hardly needed to share a glance to express their shared thought: what a large target.

Throm stepped cautiously away, fully aware of how spry this strange being was, and once he was safely behind Jehan he sheathed his sword and retrieved his crossbow. He continued walking toward the flank as he released the safety – the bow was already primed after their run-in with the authorities. Once he was safely off to the side, Throm aimed at the center of that towering shape and said, “Dodge this.”

Then he pulled the trigger.

[Glories of Myrmidion]

Oh for a lance and a steed, to run down that overly large and boastful mark! Somehow it had slipped through their flank, incurring not a single scratch in the process. Jehan decided he would think about the how later, and instead furrowed his brow at the riddle-like taunt.

Neither the knight nor his companion could hide themselves in a crowd of their peoples, but the shimmering blur towered over them both. For perhaps the first time in his life Jehan realised how it felt for other men to have to look up at him. And yet somehow the silhouette bore neither focused killing instinct nor honed sense of honour. For lack of a better explanation, although it loomed like a miniature titan and still hefted that oaken mallet… it didn’t scare him.

Almost as if he’s toying with us.

Fury coalesced as frost, deep within eyes of flecked sea-green. He had not come this far overseas, as envoy of his beloved country and as warrior in a fabled tournament, to be made fun of. With one disdainful flick of his arm he plunged his longsword into the dirty courtyard flagstones, sundering them with an almighty crack and burying the blade nearly halfway into the tight-packed earth beneath. It stood there quivering, mirroring his rage.

The orc stepped out from behind him with that primed ballista of his. At precisely that same moment Jehan stepped forth, some rational part of his mind keeping him from straying into Throm’s line of fire. He heard the orc’s growled dare and the keening whisper of the quarrel as it sliced through the air, straight and true, but paid little further heed to either. His attention homed instead upon the blur that had made itself his foe, never letting it slip from his sight, the glare of a hunting eagle locked upon its prey.

Further rays of sunlight broke through around him, haloing his armoured form as boots thundered over the cowering stone. A chill wind stirred at the wrathful expression nestled in his craggy features deep beneath his helm, further peeling away the mist from their surroundings. He stood his ground approximately halfway between the orc and his blurry foe, planting his legs like sturdy trunks and spreading his gauntleted hands in invitation.

“Either fight true or be gone, worm,” Jehan snarled, the challenge rolling like a tidal wave across the silently shuttered warehouses adjoining the square. “I have little patience for fools.”

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas moved slightly to the left getting hit in the right shoulder. As soon as the arrow hit the he was thrown back hitting the building behind him. He stood there for a second before answering the man. "Who's the fool?" Barnabas asked through clutched teeth, while pulling the arrow from his arm. A clear substance dripping from it as well as from the wound. "I'm one of your opponents for this Open Street Tournament. Didn't you notice that there are two officials watching from the sides?" Indeed two officials were standing in the door of the church that stood proudly over them, watching the fight, waiting for the winner of this round. "I was just testing you. Trying to get you off guard. Now that you can see me however, I can't use the element of surprise, or can I." He said as he and his mallet disappeared.

AN: My next post will be his actions while truly invisible.

[Tusk]

With a cryptic shout – a threat? – all suggestions of the shade and his mallet vanished just as abruptly as they appeared. Throm raised his shield and listened hard, straining his hearing and letting his ears twitch and swivel. He breathed the air steadily, hoping for the barest coppery whisper on the wind to suggest flowing blood.

But all was quiet.

Throm risked a glance around, wondering at this talk of open street tournaments, but he saw no man. Were they like the shade, invisible? Had he and his partner stumbled into some sort of island event administered by magicians?

The orc growled and muttered to himself, cautiously returning his crossbow to its place on his back. “I don’t hear him,” Throm said quietly. “I guess he chose to be gone.”

The moment stretched, and still there was no violence, no sudden or sharp whiff of blood or body odor, no extra thudding heart or scuffing feet. Slowly, so slowly, his big shoulders relaxed.

“You skraelings,” Throm told Jehan. “There’s something wrong with all of you. Every one.”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

The Osynligs VS Chivalry & Savagery


Plot:

Storytelling 3/6 – The only people who told a story here was Chiv and Sava, who were litteraly left floundering to keep any semblance of a story at all. Ghost, your sudden choice to stop writing in the LCC really shot your partner in the foot, and Tourny, your rather blunt style of writing is sometimes great to set a tone, but here it fell short of the mark. Add in the fact you guys didn’t finish, and well…

Setting 4/6 – There really isn’t much setting in this story. Sure, it was on a dock, with the sea and everything else mandatory of such a place, but I was never there, I couldn’t really smell the sea air or get a feel that this location was any different from a blank canvas. This mostly falls onto Osynligs. Tourny, your first post should have been the hook and juice of the setting, something that could have pulled your team ahead but instead was so basic and cut out that Chiv and Sava had to pick up your slack. Ghost, you didn’t even attempt to create a scene. To improve guys, you need to be aware of all the senses the human body can use to dictate a scene.

Pacing 3/5 – My biggest issues with this one is that while Chiv and Sava tried their best to push the story along to keep it moving, Tourny and Ghost you guys did nothing but hold it back. A lot of your writing is quick and flat, which breaks the flow of the story as well, and it hurt you guys a lot in this category. Flesh out the tone of your writing, and keep the story moving along.

Character:

Communication 2/6 – I can see the interaction attempts between Sava and Chiv, but Tourny and Ghost…well you guys just plain didn’t talk. At all. Your characters interactions were so poor it hurt the overall thread and the attempts to make things work just never panned out.

Action 2/5 – I can’t fault Chiv and Sava for their lack of action due to Osyn not giving anything to work with. Tourny, your quick, short posts hurt everything in a thread. There is no meat, no substance, nothing to actually draw a reader to actually want to read what you post. It hurts everyone involved with choppy writing like that, and when you enter into Tournaments it’s the time to bring your A game. You need to go back to your previous judgments and look at what was said and apply them. You’re missing so many easy points to boost these scores.

Persona 2/5 – I cannot fully understand any of the reason for your characters actions, especially you Tourny and Ghost. This thread had a lot of thumb twiddling and it reaked of people shuffling their toes in the dirt and waiting for someone else to do something. None of your characters had much life, but at least I saw Chiv and Sava fight and claw their posts together when given absolutely nothing to go off of.

Prose:

Mechanics 5/5 – Proof reading will help you all earn more points. As for Osynligs, your score is only this high due to not really posting anything.
Clarity 5/5 – I had no issues reading your posts.

Technique 2/5 – Chiv and Sava, your posts showed great basics, now it’s time to really shine and push those comfort zones away and try some advance writing techniques. Tourny, your posts are choppy and short and lack any substance. You need to incorporate more into them to make them come alive. Work hard at the setting, your character’s motivations, and make those emotions come to life! Don’t just blatantly tell us how your character feels. As the Robot Devil in Futurama says, “You can’t just make everyone in your play say how they feel! That makes me angry!”

Wildcard: 0/3
Osynligs – Wildcard penalties for partner not posting. Also, you need to learn to apply the things taught to you by your judges. This is a tournament, and here is where you need to perform at your best to compete. But don’t worry too much; your partner was the one who left you to dry.

Only Ghost: You are just as much to blame for this low score. Quitting half way through a tournament shows a lack of respect or care for your partner and the people who take the time to post. For you to flippantly disregard not only your team mate, but also your opponents because you suddenly felt like you didn’t think you’d win is a POOR, POOR attitude of a sore loser. Do not enter tournaments and waste people’s time if you think so lowly of your skills in the future.

Savagery and Chivalry – You guys gave it a great go considering what you had to work with, but the fact it was left unfinished, and that I felt you guys stopped writing at your full potential because of your opponents is a shame. Pick it up next round guys.

Team Total: 27 / 51

Chivalry and Savagery Wins!

Glories of Myrmidion receives 500 EXP and 50 GP
Tusk receives 500 EXP and 50 GP
Tourneymant receives 100 EXP and 35 GP
TheOnlyGhost receives 0 EXP and 0 GP