Finals: Storm Veritas v Letho

[Storm Veritas]

His blade found the mark with a sickening sound, a thwappish searing sound that brought a collective groan from the audience. Their hero was struck, the colossus wounded, their gallant Goliath being slain by evil David. As Letho Ravenheart fell to a knee, the maudlin crowd was stripped of its elation. Perhaps this would be more than cat and mouse.

Fortunately for the sword-wielder, the malevolent adversary still had to face the trifling matter of landing. His momentum brought him back, landing hard on the freshly wounded leg. The leg gave quickly and left him crashing to his backside, the garish opening in his thigh opening further, spreading wider, bleeding now more profusely. The tear in his suit pants looked like tattered hyena skin about a wound that was a bucolic combination of grime, blood, and gore. The pain was devastating, and Veritas scrambled to work through it.

Storm, you stupid motherf*cker. Get up! Get up! That big sum’bitch ain’t down for long, and you know it. Scramble now, or you’ll be chewing steel.

A frenetic scurry of hands and feet, his weak leg ambling through as dead weight opposed to his three other near-superhuman limbs. He was the beggar again, his pressed whites and finely crafted clothes hopelessly soaked in fear driven sweat and crusted with a fresh coat of the blood-soaked arena dirt. He scampered and fell, arousing a round of applause. The words and taunts from several of the silver-spoonfed children reached him, their elation at his struggle less than reassuring.

”Aw’right! He’s down! Get him Letho! Get up and kill that monster!!!”

“Yeah, that’s it! Stay down you jerk! Letho’s gonna get you!”

“WHOO! Get him, Letho! Gethimgethimgethim!!!”

A sigh, a breath, a look of desperate confusion. Now was hardly the time for deep thought and introspection. He scrambled once more, this time arising to the disapproval of the general consensus. Turning, Letho was risen, yet looked slow, his maniacal sneer all too familiar from the horrendous trials upon Nyd. Letho leapt, the blade of the Judicator drawn, ready to strike down Storm and finish him, once and finally ending the torment that had become his existence.

The attack was long and loping, giving him ample time to move. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him, but there was little room for the bandit to work out the logic. His left hand held his second blade, another small and useless dagger. There was only one option from the looping assault, and he certainly couldn’t block it. This time, he stepped into the mouth of the lion, stepping closer to Letho, and dropping to a single knee.

The blade swished a few sloppy inches over his head, seeming both intentional and outrageous. The counterattack of Veritas was swift and dire, the left hand hammering hard up from his flank towards the ribs of the overstretched Ravenheart. Should the blade find a home, it could potentially drive between the ribs of the warrior. As the stiletto rifled towards his hated enemy, one pervasive thought wrought the ever-skeptical brain of the conniver.

Why are you letting me kill you?

[Letho]

Storm was following the script to the letter. He anticipated the telegraphed swoop, avoided it with the combination of dexterous footwork and timely dodge, and ultimately found himself at Letho’s undefended flank. The pain that followed was riveting as the blade passed through the flesh with a familiar SZOCK, scraping one of the ribs and finally piercing the right lung. Letho took a knee again, the blade in his hand slipping out of the vitiated grasp of his fingers and into the dusty grave below. His elbow reflexively pressed against his side, his visage cringed, allowing a pair of involuntary tears to slip out of the corners of his tightly shut eyes. The ecstasy of the mass slipped into an uncomfortable whisper carried by a faint breeze. He could feel the wound filling up his lung with warm blood, encumbering his every breath with the burgundy substance and chasing it up his windpipe like a bitter tide.

His blood protested. The broken pride, the mind-shattering pain, the oaken stubbornness that was his earmark from day one, all spewed their flaming tongues at the rage that waited like a cocked gun of an itchy-fingered gunslinger. It made his muscles quiver like a volcano at the edge of eruption, conjuring a faint reddish mist that outlined Letho’s fallen figure. But the balled fists at his sides clenched even tighter as his mind screamed a definite NO! to his primal desires. Because if he caved in to his anger, he would surely murder Storm and then search for another chance to end this sinister burlesque that some people called life. It wasn’t life, not without Myrhia. It wasn’t even survival. It was sustentation of the status quo and Letho was tired of it. It had to end today.

He rotated his body with a muffled groan so that he faced Storm again, lowering on both knees and sinking on his shanks lifelessly. His titanic hands – murderer’s hands, Godhand had a tendency to say – fell at his sides, both hampered by the inflicted wounds. Blood oozed from the edge of his lips as he smiled and looked up at the frigid azure winter in the eyes of his adversary, his grim reaper. His liberator.

This was it, the crescendo to the pitiful performance of a flimsy orchestra. He always imagined himself dying on some vast battlefield with a myriad of cloven shields and bloodied bodies at his feet, shouting some inarticulate battlecry as life slipped from his grasp. A hero’s death, his father’s death. But given the circumstances and the events that transpired, this seemed more fitting. Killed on a grandiose stage by an immoral scoundrel that hated his guts. He remembered the familiar phrase that folk liked to say when death was lurking, about life flashing before your eyes just as you’re about to kick the bucket, and it made him smirk meekly. That phrase was a load of cow dung.

His hand managed to dig the blade out of the dirt before using it as leverage as he pushed himself back to his feet. His moves were slogged, slowed, his first stride nearly making him topple over. But his eyes stood fast, locked on Storm as he doddered forwards, drawing a crooked line through the soil. He managed one more charge, one last hurrah as he moved in on the thief and brought the blade in another utterly useless overhead strike. If Storm managed to make use of his previous strike, he would have a field day with this one.


***

“By the gods! What is he doing?! He... he...” Myrhia spoke to herself in a frantic tone that reflected her perplexed state.

“He fights like a bum!” the man at her side spat. “I don’t care if his woman left him. I saw him fight in the first round. I know what he can do. All he’s doing now is wasting the money I put on him.”

“Because of me? He’s suffering because of me? He’s... he’s losing because of me?” the voice in her head reasoned, weighed and measured, tried to make sense out of what her eyes witnessed. Because the stranger at her side was right, Letho could do a lot better then that. It was as if he wanted to lose and do it in the most disquieting manner, as if the man that fought Storm was a mere ruination of something heroic. He wasn’t the man she used to know. He wasn’t even the dark wanderer that she met in Scara Brae, the depressed man who didn’t even dream of new hope. What stood before her was in agony, a wounded beast cast in a maze, hitting its head against the wall.

“But he hurt me so much...” another voice, timid and fragile like a rose petal on a glass carpet, whimpered in her head, forcing her to remember it all. He left her for dead in the arms of a demon. He cast away his fidelity to bed a vampiric vixen Sivienna. He stole her childish elation and jocund demeanor with his lies and deceits.

“I want to forgive him, but I... I just can’t.” again the same voice as Letho fell once again, this time his fleet opponent slicing through his flank deftly. The swordsman looked destroyed and old, like a forgotten castle abraded by the sands of time, and he was in pain. And despite the coldness that she set around her heart like a shield, she felt the pain that his facial features expressed. Her eyes watered in a fraction of a second, then proceeded to shed tears down her pale face like renegade diamonds.

Was this love that she felt? Or was it just a remnant of an affection that was withering in her, set to die as the distance between them grew? Her cherubic face shook minutely. She couldn’t answer that. He couldn’t answer it either. But together... Together they might be able to shed some light on the whole issue. Whether it was a definite conclusion or a resurrection of things foolishly lost, Myrhia had to reach the answer or she too would end up with her head against one of the walls that closed in around her.

[Storm Veritas]

The feeling of slashing through flesh is an odd one. At the same time both satisfying and horribly disturbing, the sinewy muscle fibers of the human body do not yield as easily as they are often romanced to give in stories. Flesh does not cleave, skin does not separate wildly. Storm felt the need to push the blade hard through a thick layer of muscle and meat, a vibrantly savage act. Even withdrawing the dagger was brutal, and the blood that spewed from the wound was random and burgundy brown. He was no stranger to the atrocious act of ravaging a fellow human, but a body simply does not grow used to such a sinister task.

Stepping back, the battered and brutalized conniver was both confused and scared. Letho surely had something up his sleeve, for Storm knew the man was any set of horrible things aside from weak. He was throwing the match, both too slow footed and predictable for the wiry mage to avoid dissecting. With a focused eye and a tenuous hop, he scrambled to make sense of it all.

Is this your retribution, you f*cking coward? Does this make up for taking my life, my reason to exist? My soul? Fight me like a man!

He flipped the blade in his right hand, gazing through squinted eyes as the crowd groaned again in disapproval. Ravenheart was all but finished at this point, laboring and blundering and leaning that massive physique towards the door of death. He was a dead man walking, a shadow of the beast he had once been. Lumbering with a pathetic overhead swing, Letho was finished. Storm pushed off his right leg, a simple pirouette that left him clear of the oncoming path of the blade. He was a step back as the mighty greatsword finished its descent, and a single shrill voice would come above all others.

”Letho, no!!! Don’t do this!

The sweat-slicked head of Storm whipped quickly to the noise, a flashing glance towards the impossible volume. The impossible call came from her, the one who he knew all too well. That same redhead that stood opposed to Veritas while her man led to the murder of the beautiful Selena. It was her, he acknowledged, and his head snapped back to focus on the massive barbarian just as quickly as it had left. Love was immaterial now to Storm; this was no time to let emotion cloud better judgment.

Don’t give him time to hash this out, and think about things. Strike now, before it’s too late. Remove the threat. Survive. Win.

Another lunge, and Storm snapped forth at his enemy. His left leg groaned in disapproval as he planted, and his hips turned violently to strike. The blade sailed ahead, firing at the killpoint. His dagger came with lethal intent this time, a swift strike at the heart. It was time to end this.

((OOC: Letho and I have arranged a bit of “closed” attacking for these few posts, so he’s “officially” allowed any non-lethal strike on Storm here.))

[Letho]

Some things stick with a person. First kisses, wise parental advices, rigorous beatings and utter embarrassments, random smiles of unknown maidens during Radasanth rush-hour, otiose details of meaningless occurrences that transpired at one point in space and time. Some of these things were trivial. Some had the potential to save lives.

She was a siren, her voice transcending the distance and the bedlam of the arena to enamor his attention, creeping up on him like a dream in those critical five minutes before awakening in the morning. Letho recognized the familiar frantic timidity without even turning his head to visually confirm the auditory assumption. She could be real. Her voice could be the desperate plea that yearned for the end of this lunatic crusade. Then again, she could be the nightmare that struck at the last moment, a mockery that would escort him to the inevitable death. He was too afraid to seek out the truth up in the stands, his eyes wide-open and overtly stupefied.

But when Storm’s head snapped sideways abruptly, his eyes followed almost in a reflexive involuntary motion and time ceased to exist. The falling confetti and the wavering flags were frozen, the vacillant sea of faces paused in a fresco of ridiculous looking expressions, even the sound was distorted, stretched until everything became an incomprehensible slur. Neither of them smiled. Neither of them moved. Only their eyes negotiated, Letho’s searching for scorn and anger and Myrhia’s offering none. And in that single gaze they didn’t see love or hatred or reproach, but fear of the unknown, fear of what stood beyond the next corner, beyond the next morning.

Their need for a moment of calm fell on deaf ears, the serpentine murderer moving in for the kill that Letho was setting up for days now. But the tables turned significantly with the introduction of Myrhia. She wasn’t there to kiss and make up, she wasn’t even there to give him a second chance. She was simply there, going out on a limb for a man that earned at least one more palaver for all his previous benevolence. And it was reason enough for Letho to live.

Even as Storm lurched for the big fat kill, Letho’s muscles exploded in size, his body discharging a resonant sonic boom before being engulfed in a cloak of white incandescence. And as the dagger and the malicious visage beyond it bolted towards him, his left hand moved in an obnubilated ivory smear, grabbing the wan wrist of his attacker immaculately. The blade that was to be his deathbringer seconds before barely scraped the skin on his chest before he harshly pushed both it and its wielder backwards. Storm was not an issue anymore. Serenti was not an issue anymore. Everything paled in comparison with the redhead that stood in the first row of the stands, looking down on him with an unfamiliar mixture of coyness, resolute and fright.

“This battle is over, Storm, and so is this tournament.” Letho spoke, taking his sheathed sword and casting it in the dirt below Storm’s feet. “My blade is the sign of my forfeit; do with it as you wish. I wasted too much time on trivial matters.”

The words were spoken with the solidity of a mountain, Letho’s determination growing him a new spine with the reincarnation of his beloved. He knew that Storm was out for blood and revenge, that he was like an unleashed beast that wanted to sate its primal urges, but it would not happen today. As if to get that message across, the swordsman closed his eyes for a mere second, creating two portals at his sides and summoning two gigantic canines. The silver wolves remain tranquil, serving their master as silent sentries that barred any backstabbing move that Storm might have in mind for Letho.

The crowd was wordless. They watched in disbelief as the bulky swordsman made his way out of the arena, leaving his blade, an unfinished matter and a sulking thief behind his back. But in his eyes they disappeared, his mind refusing to register anything save for the angel that descended in his vicinity once again. He leapt towards the stands effortlessly, landing a couple of paces from her fragile form, but made no move towards her. He wanted to fall to his knees, to kiss her feet and beg for forgiveness like a beggar that last tasted food five days ago. But he tried that already and it didn’t work. Instead his body shrunk to his usual weary self as his eyes met her own.

“Myri I... I know there is nothing that I can say to change how you feel right now.” Letho finally started, the crowd turning into a giant ear as the stage moved from the dirty arena to the stands. His voice was barred of all pride and royal gallantness, encumbered and defeated, a voice of a man standing at the edge of a cliff. “I lied to you, I cheated on you, I betrayed you... I caused you so much pain and for that I can never ask forgiveness. I can’t even ask for a chance to prove to you that I won’t do it again. But I can promise you that if you decide to take a risk with an unworthy man, I will make the rest of my days a futile crusade to pay you back for your sacrifice.”

The mass of eyes and ears around them expected for Myrhia to come running towards her man with tears streaming down her eyes, but that Myrhia was coldly murdered by Letho’s betrayed some time ago. That which remained looked solemnly at the beaten swordsman, her eyes not as wide as before, her thoughts and emotions no longer emanating the childish innocence through every pore of her being. The realism of emotional pain forced her to take a crash course in growing up.

“Seth... He said something peculiar. He said that if I give you a second chance, I wouldn’t regret it.” she finally replied, her tiny voice piercing the dead silence of the expectant crowd. “I think maybe he’s right. But I can’t take that chance. Not yet. The pain is still too fresh.”

Letho’s head nodded minutely, his pessimistic mind already calculating the scenario. She would tell him that they needed some space, that they should walk separate paths for a while and let the distance decide whether or not the bond between them was genuine. His eyes sunk to the ground, his mind making peace with the fact that he lost the most precious thing he ever had. But Myrhia wasn’t done yet. She took a couple of steps forward, her gingery feet soundlessly crossing the distance, allowing her hands to find the dusty right of the swordsman and wrap around it tenderly.

“But we can talk and maybe... I don’t know... Just see where the road takes us next.”

Her words lifted his head, allowing him to witness a gracious smile forming at the edge of her lips and what seemed like a north star being reborn in her eyes like a phoenix.

“It is more then I deserve.”

Despite the distinct desire to counter his words, she remained silent, offering her response with a minute squeeze of her hands before she led him up the stands and towards the exit. Neither of them knew where this path led. It was an uncharted territory lying in the no man’s land between the success and defeat. But there was something within them both, a drive that ushered them, pulled them, reassuring them that they weren’t ready to let go yet. It made them both feel like winners today.

((I hereby forfeit from the Serenti Invitational, both ICly and OOCly. This is not a joke. This has nothing to do with LCC. I don't care about the rewards or EXP or anything. I believe there are no rules that would stop me from doing that. So, Storm Veritas is the winner. Also, Letho loses his titanium bastard sword and Storm can have it if he wants it, otherwise it is lost.))

[Storm Veritas]

Preposterous. The whole affair was a charade, the whole duel just an extended retirement party for the massive warrior. Storm was awestruck, set back by the torrential power of Letho, knocked back away like a child play-wrestling his father. Stumbling, this whole ordeal felt quite real, as did the horrendous wound on his thigh that would soon be infected if left untreated. Yet it didn’t matter to Ravenheart, the one who ultimately held the trump card in this fight.

Storm watched as the mighty barbarian stepped back, speaking at once from the heart and for the soul. He had forfeited, giving in, laying down the blade, the Sword of the Judicator. The one tangible item that had for so long been his lone motivation. It had driven him nearly insane, forced him to commit terrible acts, and indirectly left the love of Storm Veritas’ life in a lifeless heap.

No, you son of a bitch! You can’t just take off… you… you have matters to finish, you f*cking coward!

It was useless. Letho turned away moving to leap into the stands. To Myrhia. The crowd was stunned, moved by what seemed to be a romantic gesture and yet not sated for their bloodlust. This was a day for death, not marriage, and though many considered the elements one in the same, the spectators were found often dumbfounded with gaping mouths and crooked eyebrows. The warm reception and hug was not granted, and they would have to move on together.

Below, Storm was positively catatonic, left for the fool that he felt was not far from the truth. He was a pawn, used for the elegant and simple display, a sacrifice that Letho could make for his fair maiden. Serenti was over, in anticlimactic fashion, and there would be no parade of roses for him. The women would not fawn for their default champion, the serpentine bastard that had come out of shitpiles smelling of a rose. They rose to their feet in disapproval, the thumbs down sign joining a collective cry of boos, heavily spiced with vulgarity.

What now? What the f*ck is this?

The medics were coming to him now, a frantic run of three men with white coats and black bags. They were businesslike in their craft, elevating him onto a gurney and easily lifting him up and off his injured leg. He felt the tears at his leg as they pulled back the suit pants, unveiling a wound that one of the men pressed a wet cloth to without delay. Alcohol. They were moving back to the entrance when the burn hit him.

MOTHERF*CKER!!!

To add insult to injury, his exodus would end even less ceremonially. The fans turned to their champion, exalting him with a parade of beer steins, half-eaten turkey legs, and apple cores. Storm protected his head as he was pattered with a few random scraps on his way out, the jeers of the audience melding into a single unreal roar. He was done, ushered out as the most hated man in Althanas. It had a sort of familiar ring to it, and Storm Veritas figured he’d best get used to it.

[Ashiakin]

EDIT: Sorry, I originally had this saying Letho won. That's technically incorrect. He'll be receiving the winner's EXP and the first place EXP from winning the tournament, as per Max's instructions, even though he forfeited, due to the fact that he received a higher score. So Storm Veritas is technically the winner IC and OOC, but Letho receives the battle winner's EXP. I apologize for the confusion. This thread has been particularly difficult to deal with. If anyone has any questions, comments, or complaints feel free to IM me or PM me with them. Please keep in mind when I refer to winning and losing in this, I mean so ONLY in who gets the most battle EXP.

EDIT AGAIN: Okay, sorry, I made a mistake. This whole situation has just been so confusing. Letho has a higher score. Storm wins because Letho foreited. Letho wins the battle and gets the EXP from winning the battle. Storm wins the tournament and wins the EXP rewards from winning the tournament. Letho gets the second place EXP rewards.

I feel like a Supreme Court Justice deciding Bush v. Gore. While I think that Storm would have genuinely won this battle had he been able to post a conclusion in time, the fact that it was posted late and I couldn't score it causes the numbers to tilt in Letho's favor. So please don’t consider this a shining example of how to judge a battle. It’s simply how the staff and I have chosen to deal with a delicate situation. I don’t want either of you to feel like you’re getting cheated, so I’m providing you both with some bonus EXP and 500 GP in addition to your 1st and 2nd place tournament rewards.

The thread itself was excellent. It was easily the best battle we've had on Althanas since the site got up and running again. I’d also say that this was the finest Serenti confrontation since Devon went up against Kaltrenix Gartoic. So congratulations! You both wrote well and used the history between your characters to build suspense and keep things interesting. Despite the circumstances regarding the ending, this is really something you should both be proud of. Even though neither of you scored an 80, I’m going to be submitting it to the staff to consider for a Judge’s Choice anyway.

Letho

Introduction - 7. Your opening sequence set up suspense that you used well, but I think it would have worked more effectively if you had not revealed Letho’s initial intentions until several posts into the battle. Otherwise your intro was solid, brought down only by some awkward phrasing. Things like “Letho’s copious equipment stood splayed” and “Letho surveyed all of this with the same tranquility that gazed at him from the motionless bronze eyes” don’t quite connect like I think you want them to.
Setting - 8. I don’t think I ever lost sense of the setting while reading your posts. Your descriptions made everything clear, but sometimes I felt as if they came across as too overbearing. But for the most part you did an excellent job.
Character - 9. You did a great job of showing Letho’s motivations, thoughts, and history and how they affected his actions in the battle. My only complaint is that I found Myrhia’s actions a little bewildering, mainly because her viewpoint was thrown into the mix when the battle was three-fourths complete.
Dialogue - 7. You generally did a job of showing how your character was thinking and feeling. There were only a few rare instances where I felt that it didn’t work. For the most part, though, you managed to keep it very character-centered.
Rising Action - 8. Excellent job. You brought your character’s history with Storm and Letho’s troubled relationship with Myrhia together and had him act appropriately in response to these two converging events. It might have been too much for someone else to juggle, but on the whole you did it skillfully. I was really impressed.
Climax - 8. Again, you did a good job here. At first I wondered if Myrhia’s sudden appearance was nothing more than a cheap deus ex machina, but you managed to work with it and develop it enough to make it believable.
Conclusion - 9. I can’t tell you how much I admire you for not taking the “Oh Letho, you’re so strong and sexy, I’ll totally forgive you so we can treasure this beautiful, cheesy moment forever!” route. Instead you made the ending much more believable and based it on what you had been building with your characters throughout the battle.
Strategy - 7. The battle itself was for the most part realistic and engaging. Your actions were very character driven. The main problem here is how easily Letho could stand and talk at the end of the battle after he had his lung punctured.
Writing Style - 7. You’re a very good writer. You do a good job of showing Letho’s character and building a story. But I’m going to make two constructive criticisms. The first: You have a tendency to overwrite sentences and use large words in ways that are slightly out of context. I suggest that you try to cut down on the amount of adjectives you use per sentence to make your writing easier to follow. Also, make sure that any large word you’re using is appropriate before passing over a simpler, broader word. For instance, where I quoted you up in the intro section, you said that Letho’s weapons “stood splayed.” Weapons can’t really stand if they’re spread about haphazardly on a table. You make mistakes like that often and I would really watch out for them. The second: A lot of your metaphors are carried a step too far or they are too detached from the current subject matter, so they fail. “He leapt vertically like a frightened cat, lacking the uplifted hair but gaining much more height then most felines, and easily avoided the flailing sheathed sword.” You don’t need anything that you mentioned after the comma. The bit with the hair just makes the metaphor feel weird rather than appropriate. “Letho figured only his inhuman physique saved him from becoming a smoldering monument that resembled a roast forgotten in the oven by an unretentive housemaid.” You mention too many things here for this to really make sense—inhuman, monument, forgotten roast, housemaid, etc. If you overload your metaphors with information, no one will quite get what you’re trying to say. Anyway, I think you are one of the best writers here. I just wanted to give you some advice.
Wild Card - 7. This was a very impressive showing overall. Other than what I just said about your writing, I would suggest that you work on fleshing Myrhia out a little more. She has the beginnings of a good character, but I’d like to see more development with her. Although I believe you’ve set yourself up for that nicely with your ending!

Total - 77.

Storm Veritas

Introduction - 8. Although it may have lacked the bells and whistles of Letho’s introduction, yours was totally appropriate to your character and your situation. It was well-written (you’re very good at putting things succinctly, but giving them a sense of gravity and intensity) and I got a very real sense of how your character works. I like how your setup allowed for a gradual unveiling of Storm’s motivations.
Setting - 7. Your ending and conclusion gave me a very believable sense of the setting (your use of the stretcher in the end was a particularly nice touch, I thought) but I’m not allowed to score your conclusion so I can’t really give you points for that. But for the most part I got an immediate sense of where you were fighting.
Character - 9. You have an excellent sense of dialogue and thoughts that you use to accurately portray your character. You never linger in exposition long without having Storm think something or say something that lets the reader know that you’re really writing with him in mind. I was impressed by your grasp of your character.
Dialogue - 8. Rather than having your character think in pretty sounding phrases like most characters do, Storm’s thought process seems very disorganized and constantly in the process of development. Which means that it’s absolutely realistic! I feel confident saying that you’re better at dialogue than like 95% of the people here. There were only a few occasions that I felt your spoken words did not exactly mesh with what your character was thinking/feeling or what was going on.
Rising Action - 8. Although you didn’t have another character to work with here like Letho did, you managed to keep things interesting in spite of what you were going up against. Your story was totally believable, so even if it lacked the emotional depth and character development of Letho’s, it was totally appropriate to the situation.
Climax - 8. The posts you made before your conclusion were a product of a build-up of emotions in Storm over the course of the battle. I got a sense of his frustration and anger that really came across as genuine. I just feel like you might have “spent” a little too much in your climax to have been able to lead into a truly effective conclusion.
Conclusion - 0. Since this was posted after the Serenti ended, I cannot give you any credit for it. Had I actually been able to score your conclusion, I probably would have given you a six and taken your Wild Card score down two points. Which, obviously, would have resulted in you winning the tournament by two points. I feel bad for you since this has to be shittiest way to lose a tournament ever, but I’m going to try to make it up by providing some bonus EXP and GP. You also have the second place tournament rewards to look forward to, so it’s not like this is going to be a total loss.
Strategy - 9. Very appropriate to your character. I can’t recall an instance of you doing anything that I thought was problematic. I really enjoy how you strive to make sure that your fighting style matches your character.
Writing Style - 9. I was thoroughly impressed. As I mentioned earlier, you say things succinctly but make every word matter. There’s rarely any fluff in your posts at all, which makes them an absolute pleasure to read. Too many people on Althanas try to fill up space with extra words. You have a great grip on character and dialogue. I would go through and do something similar with you like I did with Letho, but I think that any criticism I could make of your writing would be superficial. Not that I’m encouraging you to get sloppy! There is always, always room for improvement.
Wild Card - 10. This is me shamelessly skewing the rubric. Although I really do believe you deserve the full ten points here for putting on such an awesome show. You stayed true to your character and kept things accurate all the way through.

Total - 75.

Storm Veritas (technically) wins the third annual Serenti Invitational! (Although Letho wins the battle.)

Battle Rewards:

Letho receives 1924 EXP (1124 base, 800 bonus) and 500 GP.
Storm Veritas receives 1025 EXP (225 base, 800 bonus) and 500 GP.
If you want, Storm, you may also have Letho's titanium bastard sword. He has said you can take it.

Tournament Rewards:

Storm Veritas receives the 1st place tournament rewards.
Letho receives the 2nd place tournament rewards.

(If you can’t tell, I don’t remember what these are. You’ll have to ask Dirks.)

[Thoracis]

Storm Veritas gained 4,025 EXP total. Welcome to level 4!

Letho gained 4,424 EXP total. Welcome to level 7!

Congratulations to you both. This was an awesome battle to end a good tournament. You both deserved a level for this.