Wascally Wabbits (Closed)

[Rehtul Orlouge]

Those words were all that the Mystic needed to hear. With a sigh he pushed himself up off the ground, turned, and bowed to the woman he had been fighting up until this point.

“The honor was mine, milady,” he said simply as a magic portal appeared next to him. The green circle in the air next to the mage shimmered slightly as he kept his eye on the woman. “Just something to keep in mind for next time, though... This place won’t let you truly die. The same goes for your partner. When you leave it will be as though everything that happened here were little more than an illusion.” He grinned and rubbed his shoulder with one hand.

“Though there are times when the pain will carry through,” he said, chuckling. His smile dropped from his face very quickly as he motioned back the way she came. “Get your friend and get out of here. I hope next time we face off, it will be without fear and without malice.” With those few words, the young man disappeared into the portal, leaving for now the time-space put to use for these battles in Hromagh’s honor.

As he stepped through the door to the main area of the Citadel once more, Rehtul Orlouge considered the fight that had just passed him. He had learned something much more interesting than some simple battle tactics this time. As he walked, he noticed a bench in the middle of the hallway, pressed against the right wall. He shrugged and took a seat on the old iron. He smiled in satisfaction even as the old thing groaned under his weight.

Slowly, Rehtul slumped over, elbows resting just above his knees and eyes facing toward the immaculate white marble floor of the building. His long white hair hid all besides the tiles of the floor from view. Slowly, a bout of uncontrollable laughter built up in his chest. It started with chuckling, then amped up to true laughter. With a sudden jerk, he was looking at the ceiling, the roiling laughs erupting from his mouth like lava from a volcano.

As it finally started to die down, the young Mystic slumped back down. His chest, arms, and hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Showing mercy is a funny thing, isn’t it?” the monk from earlier said as he placed a hand on the younger man‘s shoulder.

He sat down next to Rehtul and continued, “This isn’t your first battle, I’m sure, but it’s the first where you’ve actually spared someone’s life, isn’t it?” The monk smiled as the mage nodded and patted his shoulder lightly.

“What you’re experiencing is a combination of fear and elation. By offering the white flag, you opened yourself up to a sucker punch that would have ended your life. That fact that your offer of peace was accepted meant that you survived...”

“You’re telling me I’m laughing at death?”

“In a manner of speaking. I think, though, that you’re more laughing at how strange life can be. Stew over it a little bit more, and see what you think. Come back to see us again, find out for yourself what the Citadel is really about. I promise you it’s not just about battles and death. It’s about an appreciation for life, as well,” the monk said as he stood up and began to walk off.

“You’ll get to hear more puns if you do, too,” he said. He ducked easily as a lone needle of ice flew past his head and dug into the wall behind him. “Now you’ll definitely be hearing more of my puns. See ya around, kid.”

[Philomel]

Philomel slipped in behind the white-haired young mage just before the door closed and the Citadel arena was no more. Wrapped in her arms was the gentle and cooling form of Veridian, slowly turning from life's embrace and following the path to death. Her mind thought about what the boy had said, his words that were almost condescending.

"This place won’t let you truly die. The same goes for your partner."

It was as if he was her superior, as if he knew more than her. Somewhere in the distance she heard him laugh, a high amused one, possibly at her. It came from around a corner, as she disappeared around another short alleyway away from him. Whether it was to that battle, what he assigned as possibly ridiculous, or whether it was centered around the fact she had allowed him to walk away alive, she could not be sure. But her own amusement was shoved to the side for a moment for the care of her dearest heart.

Oh yes, easily she could have won. When he was sitting there, musing in the centre of the destruction, she could easily have portal-jumped her way behind him, and thrust through his neck with her simplest of knives. He was defenceless in that moment, and there was no way such things were beneath her.

Yet ... yet ...

Things had been fast then, things had needed to be done. No time for games and blood and mess, Philomel's full concern had been for Veridian and nothing more, as he waited to be taken into the realms of darkness. For what the Orlogue boy had never realised was that her and the fox's bond was deeper than a Ai'borone illusion. Even if Veridian could have been brought back from the shadow-world by them, Philomel still would have left the burning loss of him. It had happened before in the Citadel; that sudden breaking feeling, that rend from existence when all else had seemed to fail and - and the very feeling of loneliness had threatened to drive her insane. When Veridian died, even in a construct such as the Citadel, she still felt all the pain and horror and isolation - true, unbridled agony and despondancy, the feeling of being all alone with no one else with you but your own punishing self, crying out "why, why, why, why did you let it happen?!"

The short end of the corridor led to a door that led straight outside. And near this place, Philomel knew, was a grove of trees, which she needed more than anything. As Veridian moaned, and managed out a few struggled words about how stupidly stubborn she was being, over letting him just be healed by the ordinary monks, the faun soldiered on. Darting straight for the ash tree she knew was there, adorned with many and plenty crossed branches and offerings to her goddess that she had placed there over time. Calmly, ignoring all sense of reason, Philomel laid Veridian at the foot of the tree, and stepped back. Striking a prayer, she invited Drys to come down and heal him then, there, to prove herself vastly more powerful than any monk.

[Mordelain]

Thread Title: Wascally Wabbits
Judgment Type: Full Rubric
Participants: Rehtul Orloge, Philomel

Rehtul’s scores in blue.
Philomel’s scores in red.

Plot: 18/21

Story- 6/7

You portray the weight of expectation on Rehtul’s shoulders well, but all too easily bring NPC’s into the exposition. Is Rehtul really worthy of such fame, when all he has (yet), is his family’s name? Would the monks, given all they’ve seen in their long lives, treat him any differently to the myriad other warriors and vagabonds that enter the Citadel each day? You both set the story in stone, but Philomel’s exposition put her one step ahead. In particular, the detailing on the relationship between faun and fox in post 10 and 12.

Setting- 6/6

Expert use of verbs kept the scenery throbbing, pulsating, and growling. To excel, don’t dwell too much on the elements just because you’re an ice and earth mage alike. Consider how these elements not only interact, or react to one another, but the wider implications using these talents might have on your surroundings. Does an ice lance kill the flora and fauna nearby, or does the air freeze and crystals of ice form in the farrowed ground cracked by faun’s fury?

Pacing- 6/8

Rehtul, be wary of explaining too much. Dialogue in adrenaline fuelled situations is seldom concise, clear, and evocative at the best of times. Philomel captures the balance between things said, and things done beautifully. Phrases like ‘the honour is mine’ are best left for truly formal situations, not just after you’ve been garrotted. I expect Rehtul wants to sound like a gentlemen, but he doesn’t act like it. Yet. Philomel, keep up the frenetic excitement that surrounds your character, it works wonders.

Character: 17/20

Communication - 5/6

Your respective dialogue was appropriate. There is no dispute about misunderstanding what was said by either character. The difficult here was how it was said. It was either out of tone (too formal, or too informal, in Rehtul’s case), or out of character. It’s clear you were okay with bunnying dialogue, but try to discuss, even in competitive writing, how your character speaks. Don’t be afraid to ask your opponent to edit for style (less so content). There’s an element of team work in any war. Re-examine post 7 and 8 and look at how what is said might affect the rubric as a whole.

Action- 6/8

Appropriate, believable, and systemic movements and responses throughout. To develop your writing, Rehtul, look beyond what is seen. Look at the senses as a pantheon of godly writing tools, and always take the approach that, until you’re certain of yourself, less is more. Philomel writes action in a dynamic, and simple manner that doesn’t lose the reader in the moment. That said, to excel with such strong foundations I’d consider working on embedding action into the dialogue.

Persona- 6/6

I didn’t get a sense of who your characters are now. There is plenty of reference to who they were before they entered the arena. You set out the justifications well enough, but the final posts, your conclusions, did not seem to grow any wiser. The journey to the grove, in Philomel’s case, felt more like a metaphorical coming of age than wise cracks post formal debauchery and throat stabbing. Whilst not every thread has to be life-affirming for your characters, everything we do does add to who we are.

Prose: 20/23

Mechanics- 7/7

On the whole, you both grasp the basics of grammar. Your posts are functional, set out correctly, and don’t break any major conventions for reasons foolish. Philomel, careful when you’re formatting internal dialogue, repetition of previous dialogue, and inner thought. You run the risk of confusing the reader without clearer distinctions. Rehtul, be careful how you punctuate dialogue. Formal language suffers greatly when the comma becomes your crux. Strong, clear, and simple diction wins the day. Great work both.

Clarity- 6/8

Rehtul’s clarity suffered because there was some confusion in the dialogue as to whom was speaking and when. This is often a by-product of bunnying. Philomel, despite the repetition of dialogue at the start of posts (which is good for some readers, but more often than not jarring), your writing is clear, concise, and dynamic. On the whole, the action was easy to follow and you both wrote excellently.

Technique- 6/8

Strong core techniques from both writers. Philomel pushed ahead with a good mix of internal, external, and formatting techniques. I’d warn against using italics, and try and devise a way of separating each style/type of technique in a more definable manner in the future. Rehtul, keep up the good work. Look at poetic techniques; tripling, alliteration, and so on.

Wildcard: 5/6

I sorely wanted there to be more Looney Tunes references…but I guess a solid, guttural back and forth was a good way to start the New Year’s reading. I think Faun’s just win, though, right?

Final Score: 60/70

Rehtul Orloge receives:

400 EXP!
50 GP!

Philomel receives:

2300 EXP!
200 GP!

Congratulations!

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added.