The Outsider

[Godhand]

"Oh, you know...I got lost."

Godhand was starting to feel really good about the situation. It was a real charming scene; two loving twins who did everything together. He hadn't really come from a loving home, so this sort of thing always made him feel like an outsider looking in. He remembered winter in Radasanth, and how some of the slum kids gathered around a family's windows to see what the holidays were like for normal people. Godhand never did that; he never really even gave it much thought. He just stayed focused. Kept his head clear and the blood running cold.

The mercenary took a sip of the wine. It was a little sweet, but it seemed to fit the evening's mood. And anyway, the girls could have poured him rat piss and he'd still have acted like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. They were so Goddamn adorable. Getting confrontational with them would be sort of like kicking a puppy dog; he didn't know how that half-breed had done it.

The swordsman had finished his drink without even realizing it. Lasair eagerly poured him another glass. The evening seemed to be going well; the girls looked like they were having a good time, at least. Soon afterwards Godhand was on his fifth or sixth drink. He was really pouring them down, and the twins didn't seem to have a problem refilling his glass again and again. The mercenary gave them a drunken grin.

"Are you girls trying to take advantage of me?"

Lasair let out a little giggle, something between a laugh and a dismissive "hah", and the night just kept on going. Before he knew it, Lasair leaned forward and gave him a deep kiss. Godhand was too messed up at that point to do anything but kiss back. It was then he remembered Aileen, and hesitantly pulled back for a moment, intending to apologize to her for being so blatant with her sister. Just then however, the tiny fae approached him and gave him a kiss of her own. He could taste the wine on her lips, and feel the girls' hands running over his chest. The mobster was in a daze and didn't know quite how to handle the situation, but he could already feel some primitive part of his brain taking over. He kissed her back, his hand roaming up her leg and squeezing her thigh as he deepened the kiss. He'd always been a leg man.

He suddenly felt Lasair's hand, or maybe it was Aileen's since he couldn't really tell at that point, running up his inseam. He suddenly stood up with a grunt, and the fae gave a surprised eep. She got over it pretty fast though; they both grabbed an arm and led him over to the bedroom. At this point, Godhand wasn't too proud to admit that they had done most of the work. What came next was...Amazing. It seemed less like they were twins and more like they could read each other's mind. Every move or action one did seemed to compliment those of her twin, and it was all he could do to hold on. Lucky for him the alcohol made him last a bit longer; he felt like he had hung in there pretty good and given them an alright one. Well, as much as one man could when set upon by two predators.

By the end, they were all spent. The girls collapsed upon the bed, and Godhand himself was gasping for breath. He hugged them close to him, a sister on each arm. Lasair cooed in his ear and he squeezed her shoulder tenderly. They fell into a deep sleep.

[Lasair Anubail]

Lasair slowly stirred. A large part of her didn’t want to move at all, but she could feel he sun touching her skin and knew it was time to get up and face the world all over again. She needed to open her shop and get to work. After all the weary get no rest, or was that no rest for the weary? She had no idea; she never really had been good at figuring out those human terms. Most of them just made no sense in her mind. Hanging out with Harley was certainly beginning to help; he said lots of strange things to her.

Thinking of Harley made Lasair remember everything that had happened last night. The thought of it only made her smile softly and stretch out on the bed, curling in towards the big source of heat she was lying beside. Cracking open her eyes just enough to see, the small Fae realized she was curled up against Harley’s chest. He was sleeping on his side and she could only assume that Aileen was on the other side of him. Or she hoped anyway. Her sister got really uncomfortable really easily. She bet that when she finally did wake up, she’d do this cute little mumble sputter thing and then turn this really funny shade of red. That wouldn’t happen until she got up though and Aileen usually slept more than she did.

Maybe she’d just close her eyes and go back to sleep for a little bit. No one would really be upset with her if she opened her store late, would they? She didn’t exactly have a shop that received emergencies, so she supposed it would be okay.

Shifting her position a bit, the small Fae rested her head on Harley’s arm and closed her eyes to go back to sleep. The sun may want her awake, but that didn’t mean she had to be awake. Just as she settled down to sleep, a sound like thunder ripped through the sky and her house. Her eyes shot back open just as another boom echoed throughout the area, followed quickly by two more.

Lasair realized by the third—or was it the fourth—boom that it wasn’t thunder. It was the same sound that had come out of Harley’s little silver thing, what had he called it again? A Gun? Sitting up in bed so fast it made her head spin, Lasair looked over at her twin sister. Aileen was sitting up as well and had an extremely fearful and confused look on her face. What was going on? Were there more people out there with guns like Harley? Why were they shooting them like that? She didn’t understand.

[Godhand]

The hair on the back of Godhand's neck stood up before the first shot was ever fired. He'd been in the business a long time; too long. He could smell the gunpowder in the wind. Could feel the murderous intent of the animals from a mile away. Jesus, and he'd woken up feeling so good, too. The warrior had been pretending to sleep for about a half an hour by then. He'd awoken surrounded by this...Warmth. It was nice, having a nymph on each arm. And Christ did they ever smell good. Like wood and wine. And sleep. Godhand buried his nose in Aileen's tresses, stroked Lasair's arm and thought about the sea. Sometimes life cut you a break.

Not this time though. The warrior sat up as soon as the first gunshot rang throughout the village. The mobster grit his teeth and sprang out of bed, eliciting a small exclamation from each sister. He hurriedly pulled on his pants and burst out into the house's main corridor, swiping up the gun Lasair injured herself with along the way. He kicked open the door and took his first step out of the house only to be met with a hail of gunfire. Godhand hurriedly stumbled back into the house, narrowly avoiding getting shot twice by the same people. He was damn shocked they'd managed to get a bead on him so quickly. It was more than likely they'd tortured somebody on the outskirts of town to see if there had been anybody new coming into the area. Probably a Fae; they were so trusting that they would have let them come into their house without much trouble.

He figured after taking care of that they would have started stalking over to the house, loading up their guns all the while. Why they had fired and given themselves away, he didn't know. They had probably been stopped by some surly Draconian and asked what their business was. They'd have shot him once, maybe twice, in the gut and then put a bullet in his head just to make sure. They were pros alright. But he was meaner and looking for the big payback.

The door was pretty battered from his kick, but he knew a good deal when he saw it. Godhand ripped the oak from it's hinges and got a good grip on the handle before cautiously walking out of the house, the wooden door set up to block any attack from the direction the bullets had originally come from. There was some sporadic gunfire which he blocked, but he knew all that meant was that his assailants were starting to position themselves for a more tactical assault. He knew he couldn't waste any more time; if they managed to organize then he was done for. Gripping the doorknob in one hand and his revolver in the other, he threw down the door and shot the first killer in the head.

It was a lucky shot; he was only guesstimating his position based on where the gunfire came from. Suddenly a bullet whizzed past his ear and he roared, blasting away. He hated that, that buzz when it went by. He almost preferred getting shot. Like a mosquito; during that buzz he instantly felt all his opponent's bullshit and cowardice and it filled him with a terrible rage. He started in a dead run, too quick for his assailant's to hit, and right away he knew where everybody was. He swung his revolver to the side and fired it once at a shooter hiding behind some barrels. The Magnum easily blew the wooden obstruction and drove into his chest, the powerful round collapsing his left pectoral. His gun didn't carry a lot of bullets and it was heavy as Hell but when he fired, guys went down.

[Godhand]

A bullet nicked him in his right shoulder and Godhand dove forward, twisting in the air and firing about twice at a guy who'd somehow managed to set himself up on a house's balcony. The first missed but the second one one managed to catch him in the wrist and practically blew his hand off. Godhand smiled and took careful aim, pulling the trigger when the man's head got within his ironsights but dumb fucking luck, he'd run out of bullets for his first gun. He'd forgotten to replace the round Lasair had fired. The swordsman ducked behind a nearby porch and fished inside his pocket, thanking whatever God was listening that he hadn't taken Lasair's bullets out since she had given them to him. He licked his lips, sweat running down his face and stinging his eyes, and haphazardly placed the crimson shells into each of the cylinders. Swinging the cylinders back into place he aimed at the wounded attacker, grit his teeth and pulled the trigger.

What followed was a spectacular display of firepower. The bullet exited the chamber and fired as normal, but once it embedded into the mobster's chest it detonated and the entire balcony was blown apart. Confident that that would have distracted whoever was still attacking him, he peeked his head out from the corner of the porch and saw another one of the bastards, they were all dressed in black, and without thinking about it fired twice at him. The entire area ten feet in every direction of him blew up in a staggering ball of fire. He smelled the blood in the air now. This was the climax.

Visibility was darkened by smoke. Both the fallout from the bullets and the charred remains of his enemies made it hard to see anything, but he knew enough was enough. He shouted, loud enough so that the whole damn town could hear it.

"Enough!"

Godhand walked out into the middle of the road. The smoke cleared, and he could see his final enemy on the other end. He dropped his gun. The mobster did the same. They began walking towards the other, slowly at first but then it turned into a run. Just as they were about to collide, his attacker went for a clothesline. Godhand ducked and let the man's own momentum spin him around. By the time he was coming back, Godhand greeted him by snapping his hand forward, sticking his index and middle finger into the man's left eye socket and the pinky and ring finger into his left. The mafia soldier gave an ungodly scream and the swordsman dug his thumb into the roof of his mouth. The man fell to his knees. Godhand held the man's head, got as good a grip as he could with the hand that was on his face, his fingers underneath the bone of his eyesockets and finally gave a mighty pull.

The result was nothing short of gruesome. The mobster's head looked like his brain had suddenly turned into a shotgun and fired. The blood and bits of bone came out in one big spray then dribbled down. Godhand released the grip on his head and he collapsed, dead.

And there he stood. Handsome Harley Race. Barefoot, half naked, covered in blood and king bastard of the whole damn place.

[Lasair Anubail]

Neither of them knew what to do. The moment the noises rent the air, Harley was on the move faster than Lasair or Aileen would have expected. As if the very flames of the dragons licked his feet, he jumped from the bed and dressed in his pants so fast the small Fae worried he would rip through the seams simply from shoving his foot within. Once he was out of the room, the twins looked at each other perplexed and very worried. Lasair knew that sound, Aileen knew it too. The gun Lasair had taken from Harley’s belt and fired in her kitchen had made a remarkable similar sound, even if these ones were slightly more muffled. But no one should have any of his guns, then again, when the two of them had found Harley he had multiple holes in his body. Lasair had never thought much of it, Aileen had shrugged it off. Now they realized he had probably been shot by those cylindrical things that came out of his weapon. If that was so, then that meant there were more people out there with the same thing; more humans. No Draconian or Fae would ever dare to use such a weapon as that.

Quickly, Lasair scrambled out of bed, throwing the sheets off of her and rummaging around on the floor for the dress she’d been wearing last night, she couldn’t go out there naked after all. With hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, of fear or of adrenaline she didn’t know, the small Fae managed to find her long blue dress and quickly slip into it, giving herself some semblance of decency.

“Where are you going?”

In her mind, that didn’t justify an answer. She planned on going outside to help Harley, even now as she stood here she could hear the shots ringing out throughout the air and her ears and for all she knew he could be hurt and in need of some kind of help. Even if she didn’t have any fighting skills and she couldn’t pick up a sword for the life of her, there were still things she was capable of doing. Besides, she had a good stock of ice bombs somewhere... if she could find them then she could throw them at the enemy and distract them so Harley could move in and finish them off.

“Outside to help him, he’s probably going to need it.”

Her sister tried to protest, Lasair could see it on her face, but before she even let the first word leave her mouth Lasair turned and left the room. Her bare feet slapped on the hardwood floor as she rain down the hallway and nearly tripped as one loud explosion seemed to rock the very air let alone the floor upon which she walked. Her mind raced and her heart thudded in her chest and somewhere reason told her that came from one of the bullets she’d made for him. She didn’t know how she knew, she just knew. Balling her small hands into tight little fists, Lasair forced her shaking limbs to keep going and before she knew it she burst out of the shadows of her home and into the blindingly bright lit of the day. What met her eyes left her speechless and frozen.

The air smelled of fire and blood. All around her white wisps of smoke were beginning to clear as heavier black fumes rose from smouldering piles of what might have been the side of a house and what might have been the edge of the forest less than thirty feet away from her. She could see random and charred body parts on the ground, in one instance a human finger which lay no more than two feet from where she stood. Splatters of blood marred wood and grass and dirt alike and standing amidst it all was Harley. Lasair nearly called out to him, until she realized he was still fighting and running towards another man, she wanted to help him, moved to do so until her bare foot landed in a sticky pile of blood and she felt her stomach drop. Then she heard the scream and watched in horror as Harley ripped the man’s face and part of his skull right off, leaving a bloodied trail that fell to the ground in one big splat. He let the man go and the body fell to the ground with an audible thump, leaving the only other sound to be the cracking of fire and her own heart as it thundered within her chest.

“H-Harley!”

She began walking towards him, her steps slow and uneasy at first, taking her through the remains of her once bright and beautiful garden, now trampled and covered in things she didn’t want to look at. Quickly though, her pace began to build into a jog that brought her no less than two feet away from him.

“Are...are you all right?” There was so much blood all over him that she couldn’t tell if he was hurt or if it merely came from the others, the others she didn’t want to think about it.

Behind her, Aileen hid in the shadow of the doorway, the skin of her face drained and pale as her wide, golden eyes looked out at everything scattered across the road and the front lawn and the remains of their neighbour’s home. Her small hand clamped itself over her mouth as she stared out in mute horror, unsure of what to do or what to say, all she managed was keep her stomach from spilling its contents on the floor.

[Godhand]

Godhand knew the jig was up. With that last move he'd revealed a tendency towards violence that lay somewhere between excessive and completely fucking unhinged. He ran his slightly less bloody left hand through his hair, letting out a low hiss as he felt the muscles in his back unclench. Once the adrenaline passed, that was probably the most unpleasant part of a fight. You never really pay attention to the small stuff when you're in the middle of a shootout, but after the danger passes everything suddenly comes back real sharp. The smell of blood, even though he was used to it by that point, wasn't actually very appealing to the mercenary. He especially didn't like getting it on his hands; a strange quirk, yes, but the sensation of someone else's fluids clinging to his skin upset him. It didn't really bother him when it was his own blood; he believed himself 'clean', so to speak. But when it belonged to swine like that, it put him on edge.

The swordsman knew Lasair had asked him something, but was unable to reply with anything other than a quiet nod. The kill fog was still swimming in his mind. Living idyllically with the twins for those few days had apparently made him forget what kind of man he was. He held out his hand suddenly, mutely asking the Fae to take him back to the house. She, belonging to a naturally empathetic race, picked up on this quickly and gently led him back to her home. Aileen gave Godhand a wide berth, his final display making a deep impression on her.

The rest of the morning passed quietly; an almost surreal monotony blanketing the usual proceedings when you considered that a massacre had very recently taken place on their front lawns. Godhand knew what to expect after that whole mess, so he took a quick shower after making his way inside and calmly arranged his belongings. Neither of the twins knew quite what to say, so they didn't say anything. After a couple of hours there was a knock on the door and a Fae gentlemen flanked by several Draconian bodyguards made their way into the house.

He nervously explained to the mercenary how his actions had brought great danger unto their town and how the fight itself caused massive property damage. Not nearly as important as the life of his countrymen, he quickly clarified. Godhand's hunch had been right; they'd taken out a couple of stragglers on the outside of the village. And that for all these reasons, he had been forced to banish the gunman from Donnalaich. Godhand glanced at the Draconians; those animals were chomping at the bit to get a piece of him. It was subtle, mostly just stance and how tight their jaws were, but if you knew what to look for then it was plain to see. Well, the swordsman wasn't in the mood for a fight. He stood up, a movement which caused two of the Draconians to ready their spears, but the Fae scolded them. He gave the diminutive man a small nod to express his agreement to his terms, then slowly walked over to the door. Lasair was waiting right by it; Aileen was still nowhere to be seen. He quietly knelt down before the girl, squeezing her small hands, before leaning in and kissing her to show his thankfulness.

With that, he stood up, adjusted his gunbelt and walked out the door - and continued the walk until he had made his way to the docks. He could feel the fear and loathing of the villagers during the first few miles of the trek, but paid them no heed. Once he reached the town, it was relatively easy to negotiate passage back to Corone.

He stood on the bow of the ship as it left port that same day, memorizing the outline of the lush countryside.

He doubted he would ever return.

Spoils: None

[Lasair Anubail]

A soft hum filled the air and carried gently across the wind. It rose and fell to a common and soothing tune that many Fae knew since they were children; it was the song their mothers usually hummed for them when they were little. No one even knew the words anymore or what it had originally been about, but no one cared. The song itself seemed to calm those who heard it and that was all that mattered. She had sung it before recently when she’d been tending to a human’s wounds as he lay unconscious within her guest bedroom.

It had been a week since he had been removed from Donnalaich and she still missed him. Though the man had not spent much time with her, Lasair couldn’t help but to feel a little something for him. He’d been so nice and helpful and considering the things that had happened while he’d been here; she’d grown a bit attached. She hadn’t wanted the council to call him an outsider like that and remove him from the region; she’d wanted him to stay. But she knew that asking for it would be above anything she could hope from the council. He had been the cause of much strike within the safe walls of the city and on top of that she’d heard rumours of what him and some of the other humans had been doing in the region; stealing. It was why he’d been all full of holes when she’d found him. Apparently something had gone wrong during one of his little missions into someone’s home. Still, she couldn’t help but miss him. He had seemed like such a nice person and had shown her and Aileen nothing but kindness, which was rather impressive for a human considering their base natures.

With her song in the air, Lasair cheerfully went about her gardening. All around her were the sounds of wood being hammered and cut and carefully placed into damaged homes. The voices of those working to repair the damage done during the gun fight filled the air and brought with it a sense of mirth that everyone needed. In the end, two Fae and one Draconian had been killed, three more Fae injured as well as two more Draconians, one of them being Tristram. He’d noticed the humans while heading towards her house to try and talk to her. When he’d stopped to talk with them, they’d turned on him easily enough but thankfully Draconian scales were tougher than human skin. The bullets had gone damage to him, but had just barely missed vital organs. With her medicine he was mostly healed and already working on repairing her home behind her as she straightened up her ruined garden. Thankfully many of the plants that had been destroyed were just part of her flower garden and not the vegetable one that grew on the other side of the house.

Reaching out to grab another potted plant, Lasair’s hand went right through the air and hit nothing but dirt. Blinking in surprise she looked over only to notice that she’d run out of those pretty blue rose bushes she liked so much. Scrunching her nose up, the small Fae glanced around and spotted a few more of them all the way on the other side of the garden, ready and waiting for planting.

“Godhand, can you get me one of those blue rose bushes, please?”

“Sure thing.”

Smiling softly, the small Fae looked up from her dirt covered hands and watched as a large clay-potted plant picked itself up from the ground and moved towards her. Once by her leg, it set itself down on the ground.

“Thank you.”

From the other side of the pot, a twelve inch and cloth replica of Godhand Stryker walked out, dusting his little hands off. He looked exactly like the real thing, right down to the crescent scar on his chest and the small gun belt with four little guns holstered in it.

“No problem, sweetheart.”

In the end, Lasair had had no choice in her mind but to make a plushie of Godhand, considering how much she’d missed him. And she’d had all those bloody bandages just lying around the house tempting her with it too. Of course, when the little guy woke up and she called him Harley, she quickly learned that had not been his real name at all. In fact, he was the man Harley had mentioned in Radasanth, if she ever decided to stop by there of course. Though it had hurt her a bit to find this out, she’d soon realized he’d done it to keep her and himself safe.

Picking up the plant, Lasair went back to gardening as Godhand grabbed a large board of wood and walked off to help the others with the repairs to her neighbours.

]SPOILS:

Godhand Plushie

Height: 12 inches
Weight: 5 lbs including all equipment.

Appearance: The Godhand plushie stands slightly taller than her regular Tristram plushie and looks exactly like the real deal. He had messy, silver/grey hair with deep, red eyes that most of his enemies find rather menacing. He wears a pair of dark brown trouser, brown gun belt with four small guns; replicas of the .500 magnum revolvers. He also wears a small brown trench coat with a plate that covers the area over his heart. Upon his chest is a small crescent shaped scar that Lasair does not know the origins of.

Skills and Abilities

Strength: Inheriting the strength from his original form, the Godhand plushie is three times as strong as an average human even when made of cloth.

Marksmanship: Average

Brawling: Above Average

Equipment

Replica .500 Magnum Revolvers: He has four of these replicas attached to his waist, which are more than capable of firing. They shoot off small, pea sized bullets that sting, bruise and occasionally break skin.

Ammunition: 20 rounds of regular ammo, 5 rounds of Lasair’s personally made exploding ammo. These pint sized versions explode into balls of fire two inches in diameter and can burn away small chunks of flesh as well as set flame to things.

I am more than willing to sacrifice all of my GP to acquire this little guy.

[Ataraxis]

Quest Judging
The Outsider

Well it’s finally up, so you can stop twiddling your thumbs! I figured I’d use up this day of freedom to complete it, so I hope you’ll both find it helpful or that it reflects and thus supports what assumptions you already had. Basically, it was a smooth ride like another chapter in the life of Chinaski – sans the green smocks and penis hats. So here’s the judgment that’s ‘longer than the damn quest itself’ that was requested!


STORY

Continuity ~ 8/10.

Godhand’s introduction into this quest was in medias res, so it’s normal that I couldn’t get much out of continuity until the later posts. You went on to describe the job fairly well in the kind of simplicity you’d expect from a mobster for whom an allegedly easy task went terribly awry. The people he was working with, the details as to how they were dispatched from behind and Godhand’s instinct to run and dive in river after being shot a second time was a very thrilling way of setting the story in place, and also provided you a plus in the Pacing category. You also gave the reader a little insight into his past before being a mobster, when you have him mention the tug on his heart when he witnesses good family relations and how he never grew up with that.

Since Lasair and Aileen are in their hometown, it’s not a real mystery why they showed up when they did. Though you didn’t actually mention it in the first post, Lasair’s actions and the following posts on the Synthesis Shop explained quite a bit on what they were both doing there, looking for Sleams and moss panaceas. You also did good by mentioning their past and how they took up their parent’s business, though I would have liked a bit more information on that. In any other case, I would have assumed that they were dead, but considering how long-lived (or I believe, immortal Faes are) their deaths must have been anything but natural and might have warranted a passing mention. Still, this is a detail.

There was also the part where she called his synthesized bullets ‘red crystal bullets’, but later on referred to them as cylindrical things as if she didn’t remember the word. She also called Godhand’s pistols as ‘guns’ when he only called them ‘pistols’ during the thread.

Setting ~ 7/10.

Your styles complemented each other here, with Godhand sketching the scenery with moving shapes and colors like an impressionist and Lasair defining it more accurately, bringing a certain focus in it all. As a whole, I didn’t read the most ground-breaking portrayals of a forest or a city (though I thoroughly enjoyed the part about dragon sculptures coming to life and battling on the walls). The gunfight near the end could live purely on the action though, so that didn’t need any additional nudge toward Setting.

Individually, I’d suggest to Godhand a few more passages that describe the setting, and just so that it doesn’t break away from your style, describe it in that cynical understanding of how the world really turns and that down-to-earth empathy that’s so preponderant in your writing (the empathy moreso than the cynicism). Something similar to Palahniuk, like telling that the flowers in a field that goes by are really just the genitals of different life-form.

For Lasair, I believe you’d do even better if, every time you tell yourself you need to describe the place your character’s in, you simply excised the superficial. Ignore what’s extraneous, the things with which you know you can’t write any sort of evocative description that won’t fly under the reader’s radar; merely mention the ordinary (chairs, tables and the like); focus on the objects of importance (paintings that bear as symbolism, mementos, dust here and there that shows housework neglect, a 200 pound swordfish on the foyer).

I know some of the things I just mentioned seem superfluous, and they very well can be, but depending on the plot of your story and your character’s history, these things can suddenly become rather enlightening. Not a lot of people can flawlessly recreate a complex scene in their minds, so focusing on the first things someone would notice upon seeing it helps – it’ll basically end up looking like a theater stage, with the simplistic décor, the props and the Chekhov’s Guns.

Pacing ~ 7.5/10.

You both did well with the introduction and the conclusion, making them fast-paced without stinting on the descriptions that breathe life into your written worlds – in Lasair’s post, it might as well have been young Natalie Portman, digging a hole for a memento houseplant in the backyard. It was nice.

The in-between fell away a bit, and the plot seemed to stagger from between Aileen kissing Godhand and the suggestion of a threesome. The post that followed, what with the newlywed atmosphere, seemed almost out of character and made me quirk an eyebrow more than once. It might have been because I imagined him pinching a 4’9” girl’s ass-cheek… and that 4’9” girl pinching his – a feat of stretching and contortion on both their parts, I’d assume. I also wasn’t sure what the argument with Tristram contributed to the plot: did you simply want him out of the way? I’d have thought he would play a bigger role here, considering how you introduced him and threw him out.

In any case, I did understand you wanted to set that clear ‘thrown into a strange new world to live a few days of idyllic, almost dreamlike peace’ ambiance, so that you could suddenly crush it with the return of the original bad guys from Godhand’s ‘old life’ and that banhammer to the back he got from the government. The development could have progressed better with three or four fewer posts, all in all.


CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 8/10.

It was a funny thing to see Godhand in such a homey situation, being nursed back to health and talking about pasta and fish for the soup. That was a nice bit, by the way, which would have been unbalancing were he not recovering from delirium and two gunshot wounds. I got the same feeling when he felt so futile, trying to describe the mechanics of a firearm to Lasair, which might have been an accidental symbol of how he imagined his world and Lasair’s to clash. And to that, Lasair’s reply was rather interesting, as it denoted that she didn’t live for 86 years without growing some brains behind her foolish façade. Nice detail, having him call himself Harley Race and telling Lasair to look for Godhand if she ever wandered to Radasanth.

As I said in pacing though, the I Love Lucy bit near the end, with all the honeys and sweethearts… both of them felt a bit out of their element, felt surreal in that comical, nervous laughter sort of way. Also, Lasair’s dialogue could at times feel a bit excessive on the cutesy, bubbly, scatterbrained side, a bit too cartoonish, but you did compensate well by mixing into her lines that focused gravity when she works and the lewd playfulness when… you know.

This goes for Godhand too, and I was a bit surprised how quickly he was attracted to Faes that weren’t taller than most eighth graders, calling them angels and honey-bunnies and all. Aileen and Lasair seemed like the types of girls he’d call ‘Kid’ or ‘Kiddo’, even if that would be inherently wrong. I’m guessing since Draconians participate in intercourse with Faes on an almost day to day basis, though, they must have something… adult about them.

I don’t know who wrote the ‘Tooth of Dragon + Wing of Bat + Mandragora Root = : (’ and the ‘Oh no! Sharks!’ bits, but that was very amusing and fit Lasair perfectly. And then there was the ‘I’m a leg man’ part, which was just rich. Nice tip of the hat to Bukowksi there.

Action ~ 8/10.

The quest was spotted with a slew of instances where Godhand’s decisions gave an impressive deal of insight on his empathy. For one, when he was faced with the conundrum of slipping into a comfortable death or raging against the dying of the light. All that, just so that the poor bastard who had picked him up wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of burying him, taking on all the paperwork and extra emotional baggage that would come from him going gently into that good night.

The action-packed blockbuster that was the shootout near the end was full of this, in both the broadest and the literary senses of the term. Every little detail that makes Godhand Godhand came up during it, as he literally thrives under combat pressure. Licking his lips as he sweat and reloaded his gun with the fire bullets

Godhand being ‘a bit of an old man, but still a man’ describes him well, and there’s proof to that claim. A real man reacts when he’s straddled by a nymph(o), and no real man would refuse being brought into a bedroom by libertine redhead twins, and so Godhand is a real man. Some would even say, a(n) hero.

Lasair’s curiosity was made fairly obvious when she tried to understand how the pistol worked, and how she didn’t seem to shy away from it after being thrown back by the recoil showed a level of adaptation that’s probably necessary in her unpredictable line of work. The clumsiness of the cute was possibly overplayed here, but it’s nothing bad. Otherwise, I didn’t get a lot of the little things that make Lasair who she is, or of the quirks and foibles that make her body language stand out.

The races of Dheathain are very sexually inclined, which you show very well not only by mentioning Lasair’s light-bondage fetish, but her and Aileen’s multiple partners. How playfully the idea of a threesome that deals with libertine values, hinted bisexuality and twincest also shows a culture clash, since for them it’s a casual, innocent and harmless (though perhaps a bit odd and a rare enough occurrence), whereas anywhere else this would be behavior observed only in brothels or disturbingly dysfunctional houses.

Persona ~ 7.5/10.

When Godhand reflects on how adorable Lasair and Aileen are as a family, sisterly love and all, the reader understands that he’s not that novelty anti-hero who despises all things emotional and avoids them like the plague in fear he stains his cool-jacket. You showed that he’s not stone-cold when he’s reminded how he never had a real family of his own, without making him whine and bawl and all wangsty. And that part where he talks about homeless children in Radasanth looking into windows to see what a real holidays looks like, and how he never really did that? That was a good downer.

The differences between the personalities of Aileen and Lasair were clear-cut, as you mentioned how Lasair was restless and wanted to explore the world at large while Aileen was the unassuming kind of Fae, content with the micro-cosmos she’d always known and come to love. Hell, I could literally read the Myers-Briggs test results on their foreheads. The only thing I could criticize here is how you have a small tendency to tell the reader their personalities, rather than to show them through their actions.


WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 7/10.

-There’s the Chekhov’s Gun I mentioned, which I saw coming a mile away when Lasair synthesized those exploding bullets. It’s not a bad thing since it was well done at the end, what with Godhand thanking the powers that be after finding them in his pocket during the shootout, and simply using them in very gruesome ways.

Godhand’s style is like Bukowski’s, which is fast-paced and doesn’t linger on the details (as in, the details that don’t make a difference in the understanding of his story and writing). Unlike him, however, you also manage to pain a picture in that sketchy kind of way that tells us where things are generally standing, something you do without wasting time on the exact name of the color, or the composition and surface temperature. Facial expressions and gestures are also described briefly enough to be clear while conveying the right message, to the point, like ‘flashing them a big bloody smile’. The only thing is that, when you’re pressed for time or lacking inspiration/motivation, it becomes readily obvious in your writing, and it falls from that solid style to one that feels like a comedic tribute that doesn’t kid and see itself as anything more. This didn’t happen often, and never during a whole post, but an example would be the faux-newlyweds post.

Lasair’s style is a more classical form of writing in the sense that you describe things fully, accurately. It’s very good, and all you have to be careful about is over-describing things. Describing a facial expression shouldn’t take over two lines, as you then lose the ‘flash photography’ sensation of a short, well-delivered description. Also, your writing can get technical as sometimes, it feels like you’re describing the paths that your characters take from point A to point B in a three-dimensional frame. Well, that’s a bit exaggerated, but here’s what I mean:

Basically, describing things just because a part of you tells you ignoring it would be an amateur’s mistake, making things less clear to the reader and making you as a writer less credible: hell, I fall into that trap on a daily basis. Basically, the best thing would be to excise the super-superfluous, the information that’s accurate but doesn’t actually provide anything actually important, like the exact positioning of characters in a room or in reference to one another and all.

Mechanics ~ 7/10.

Two pages of notes (albeit, some of them are notes rather than mistakes and I do tend to be rather wordy) for a 27 post quest, that’s a little over what I’d expect from this. Most of the mistakes were due to thinking of the wrong word (strike rather than strife), typos, incorrect punctuation and a few run-ons on Lasair’s part. All of that’s in the appended notes.

Clarity ~ 8.5/10.


Everything was clear enough, tough sometimes long descriptions got in the way of my understanding the meaning behind a sentence. Also, at some point I thought Godhand had kissed Lasair first, when it was Aileen. In one post, Lasair’s shackling Godhand to the bedpost, in the other, Godhand’s sweet-talking Aileen, but her name’s only mentioned near the end, which led to my confusion.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 6.5/10.

If you’re wondering, this is actually a pretty high Wild Card according to my standards. It was a good read, enjoyable and quick, which surprised me considering its length. This should be called: ‘The Outsider, or Gunfights and Threesomes’. How could I not like this?

TOTAL ~ 75/100.


EXP Rewards

Godhand gains: 4376 XP! I included a bit of extra experience for the lateness of the judgment, and because you asked for no spoils.

Lasair Anubail gains: 1015 XP! I also included a little extra experience for the lateness.

GP Rewards

Godhand gains: 292 GP!

Lasair Anubail gains: 0 GP!

Other Rewards

Godhand gains: The crabs, the crabs, they gave you the goddamn CRABS!

Lasair Anubail gains: The Godhand Plushie with al of its specifications! Final approval of this spoil, of course, goes to the RoG moderator who will supervise your approaching level update. I do suggest you write him as 1.5 or 2 times as strong as the average human though, because 3 times mixed with above average brawling can make him stronger than most other level 0 PCs. Just, really, really don’t go overboard with it.

FINAL NOTES

Unless you also want me to write the libretto to an opera, this’ll be it! Good work to the both of you, and I’ll look forward to more of your writing, joint or individual!

The navy blue scales that covered its body practically glistening as if covered in water as the light shone off of them and its neither slender nor pudgy form looking quite cute and cuddly to her eyes. (2) Not a single punctuation mark here. I had a very hard time following the idea behind this sentence. It took me a few reads to realize that it’s a fragment, too. ‘Glistened’, and I think ‘looked’ would have been correct here.

feet slapped against the increasingly wet ground and splashing into the brook, (2) splashed into the brook

Placing some of the think liquid upon that wound as well (4) Think? Thin, I think.

The fact that he wanted them so badly, made her wonder what exactly they were. But now wasn’t the time for her curiosity to take over and go snooping through this things. (6) wanted the so badly made her wonder… through his things.

a little dazed and a lot of worried (8) a lot worried or a lot of worry. Sounds a bit awkward either way.

Jesus Christ, its happening isn't it? (8) It’s. I’m guessing Godhand writes his own lines in your posts like you write yours in his, though, so I’ll attribute this to him.

“You seemed... like they were important so I wanted to see why.” (8)They seemed? Or is there a missing fragment, a discontinuity on her speech because Lasair’s still a little dazed?

watched silently watched (10) r.w.

dragonian (11) Draconian. Shows up a lot.

stomping was but before he even could Godhand leaped (11) a comma between could and Godhand would clarify things up a lot

Did he really think Godhand wouldn't kill him if it came to that!? (11) I know !? is used for style, though I just want to point out that it’s technically incorrect and usually disliked punctuation. IT wouldn’t fly in most styles, but considering you have this kind of Bukowski style going on (even having two people speak in the same paragraph), it doesn’t feel out of place.

tears from her cheeks, she didn’t want Harley to see her cry (12) semi-colon instead of comma, or ‘not wanting Harley to see her cry’.

but when she went to move passed her twin; Aileen reached out and laid her hand along Lasair’s shoulder. (12) comma instead of semi-colon. Also, ‘move past’ rather than ‘moved passed’.
hands, Aleen tilted her head (12) Well. You know.

A small pieces of paper (14) small piece. And just a detail, but the paragraph this was in is stuck with the one-liner above it.

to Imperial, only to escape the evil clutches and save the day! (14) their evil clutches?

deposited the fistfull of notes (15) fistful

But with it, she could synthesis many times (16) synthesize

so they could resume they're...stuff (17) their… stuff

Pushing passed the curtain separating the two rooms (18) past

stood there, starring into each other’s golden eyes (18) staring

Even as her closed the door her sister (18) as she closed

It was then that the doorbell rang. (19) I’ll just assume you meant an actual brass bell on the door, rather than one that plays Westminster Chimes or the 1812 Overture. I guess Faes would have something so convenient.

"I'll get it!" Sang Lasair. (19) sang works, since it’s an interpolated clause.

Godhand hissed when he heard Aileen's next words. "Aileen! Come in!" (19) I’m guessing you meant ‘Lasair’ the first time.

beautiful crystal classes (20) glasses

now and again once of them broke out into a light tune. (20) one of them

He'd always been a leg man. (21) Haha, tipping you hat to Bukowski there. Nice.

but she could feel he sun touching (22) feel the sun

what had he called it again? A Gun? (22) Technically, he only said ‘pistol’. I’m guessing he could have mentioned the word ‘gun’ sometime during a hard-day’s-work montage.

Guesstimating (23) While some people would jump on you for using it, I realize that portmanteaus are a big part of what makes a person’s style, and this one suited yours well.
Just pointing out that it’s an iffy topic and the source of many a debate.

the bastards, they were all dressed in black, and without (24) long dashes (equivalent of double dashes) would make the sentence flow better than the commas.

Note: she called the synthesized bullets ‘red crystal bullets’ but then refers to them as cylindrical things, as if she doesn’t know the word for them.

on the hardwood floor as she rain down (25) ran down

blindingly bright lit of the day (25) bright light

while he’d been here; she’d (26) comma rather than semi-colon

cause of much strike within (26) much strife, I think

[Witchblade]

EXP and GP added!

Lasair reaches level 2!

Thanks for the awesome judgement, Ataraxis. ^^