Round Two, Bracket A: Penumbra Intersect v The Whole Glory

[Kryos]

Bunnies have been approved.

Kryos coughed, deep billows rippling through the thick, gray fog like curtains. The particles, the remnants of the fallen man before him, penetrated his lungs with each inescapable pull and seemed to stick to his mouth and throat like powdered mucus. His eyes widened and he dropped to his knees, hands clenched and pressing into the yielding earth. Revulsion rolled up through his spine and his shoulders hunched with the recoil, storing it as it searched desperately for an outlet. Silently, but with agonizing horror, his gut heaved as he gagged, trying to expel the vile dust which inevitably brought on more coughing as the cadaver, or what was left after its unexplainable combustion, entered his system. His arms locked, and he tried to endure tides of disgust that boiled beneath his skin wherever the lifeless miasma touched. It was as if the decaying smog seeped in through his pores, eroding and desecrating his life’s spark. He had seen the gruesome scenes of battle before, but this . . . this was beyond words. His whole being fought against the suffocating fog, and time stretched endlessly.

Soon though, the unceasing rain that fell from the brooding heavens managed to thin the layers of corrosive vapor. Little by little, he gained control over his body. He rose, sword tip dragging over the clay and dried plant life, water streaking down the edge and washing the crimson from its cold surface. The urgent demands for clean air sent him stumbling away from the haze. In his stunned state, he barely noticed the unnatural, stone-like surface of the now dead trees and vines. Didn’t realize what that meant for him, even as his legs ached from placing one foot before the other. He didn’t notice anything at all, until he heard it–a snarling that sent tendrils of power streaking past him, giving him an instant’s warning, enough for him to turn his head. Surging toward him came a ring of thundering blue electricity, blasting the trees and vines apart into deadly projectiles. His arm strained as it raced to bring his weapon up in time. The world washed white.

His body slammed into the ground, thrown back from where his blade met the arcing light, right hand and arm on fire with shredding pain. He blinked, clearing his blurred vision, eyes no longer simmering orbs of silver and taking in the blackened canopy above that dripped water. Where was his sword?

Groaning as his sat up, he spotted it a little ways ahead of him and to his right, alight with the sputtering fires that appeared in the wake of the attack. Clenching his teeth against the pain, left hand clutching his throbbing right arm, he staggered forward through the dark rain and flashes of light.

The sword lay embedded in the ground, steaming and smelling of burnt ozone. Though he wished he could do otherwise, he wrenched it from the earth with his uninjured hand. He wasn’t as skilled left-handed, but using his right would hinder him even more.

Body aching from his exertions, he stood still, shoulders slumped, letting the rain beat at his fatigue. He needed to move on, needed to find his other opponent. He couldn’t give up. Even without his eyes’ abilities, Kryos knew his target was close. It was just a matter of finding him.

A yell of fury and hopelessness sounded from beyond the tangles of vines and trees, and Kryos’ heart filled with dread.

Jericho!

He lurched into action, stumbling past the roots and shattered branches and fires toward the sound. Closer to where the lightning had spread from. As he went, the fires became more frequent until he was illuminated by the glare.

I should never have left him alone, he berated himself.

He rounded a fallen tree, branches dancing with flames and air rumbling with dying thunder. The scene brought chills to his spine.

Another giant, this one even larger than the one he had just killed, stood surrounded by fire, although his form was darker than black. A shadowy wraith of the most terrifying kind, blades extended from his forearms. The warrior took large, sure steps away from Kryos and stalked ever closer to the slight form of Jericho.

What is he doing?

The elk looked like he had been through hell and back, battling demons far worse than the adversary that stood wreathed in flames before them now. His clothes were nonexistent, just blackened strands of cloth that sparingly embraced him, and beneath the flickering shadows of the jungle, dark streaks covered Jericho’s body. The charred fur, seared skin, and still oozing wounds, heinous in any circumstance, sent a wave of guilt through Kryos’ gut. More forceful than that, however, was the disappointment he felt; the injuries could have easily been avoided, if only the elkin had been more careful. Yet despite the agony which his comrade surely felt, he swung a loaded piece of cloth over his head in quick circles before loosing a stone toward their foe. But the behemoth mearly deflected the stone with his weapon–a blade extending from his forearm–before continuing his advance, dark as night. Jericho didn’t stand a chance. Not alone.

Kryos sprang into action, pressing his seared arm tight against his body as he ran as silently as he could. He concentrated, harnessing the power of his soul, pulling it, condensing it until it appeared in the physical realm. Ebon flames rivaling the darkness of the giant raced into existence along the length of his blade. The effect wouldn’t do much against the huge muscles that gripped the giant’s bone, but it might give them the moment they needed to stand firm. As long as the titan had a soul . . .

He swung right, coming in for a direct attack just as Jericho, holding his staff before him and backing away slowly, disappeared behind the monstrous form. Kryos’ narrowed eyes flashed against the rain and he gritted his teeth against the pain that tore at his body. Legs heaving with a surge of energy and will, he brought his sword across his chest.

He struck with all the power his battered body could muster, eyes fierce and hoping that fate would see him safely to Jericho’s side.

[Shadowed]

Bunnies approved by all parties.

Honuse Relaiyent stood upon the bridge of combat.

On both ends stood foes, whose strength and determination was both tested and unknown; the ability to survive the Lawmaker’s trivial amusements was noteworthy, yet spoke of tenacity and resourcefulness rather than prowess in combat. About the giant, bright swirls of green life mixed with the choking solemnity of smoke, reducing the interlopers to rough outlines. Either end of the bridge was open to him; if his enemies held their ground, he would come to them, the walking fury of the gods themselves. If they instead ventured forth, their corpses would be cast aside, their souls lost for millennia of torment.

A dark shape pierced the murk before him; with no more than a stray thought, the abomination deflected it with an armblade, amused by the clear tone it elicited. It was but an echo of the music that would await his triumphant return, though at present his exploits were undeserving of song. His every step sought to rectify that; his booted feet slid gently in the mud, his only traction coming from the underbrush – yet even such negligent fortunes could not prevent his irresistible march. A second stone flew towards him, to which he responded similarly. His contempt for the bombardier was such that he did not deign to honor the assault with a more intricate response.

As the faint sound of the rock hitting earth reached his ears, Honuse Relaiyent likewise heard the steady rush of feet, the shrill whistle of a blade piercing through the air. The noise of the warrior’s approach was so great that the Lawmaker imagined himself deafened by it; such was his amusement, to belittle the foolish predations of those who refused to acknowledge his dominance with proper subservience. With a suddenness belying his size, the giant stopped his inexorable progression, spinning easily in the soft mud to face the attacking swordsman. His right arm came up, holding the long blade angled from his right hip to left shoulder, a classic guard position to deflect the angled sweet of his enemy’s weapon.

Yet his purpose was not to fully resist the blow – it would be far too simple to block the attack with one arm, whilst using the second to pierce the man’s stomach. Too many of his foes had met a similar end, to the point that the Lawmaker tired of such meaningless victories. It was the Norse equivalent of playing with one’s prey; make them suffer in new and imaginative ways, offering humiliation before defeat. The sky laughed at the smaller man’s ineptitude, belting the jungle with a long peal of thunder as steel clashed, counterbalancing the low echoes with a shriek. Honuse Relaiyent, his blade absorbing the majority of the kinetic force built up in the swing, allowed his enemy’s blade to force his own inwards, until the opposing steel bit into his right shoulder.

As the metal weapon cleaved the leather armor and flesh alike, a brooding maliciousness rose to the front of the Lawmaker’s mind, its glee palpable as the foreign sword contacted dense bone. Many hundreds of years earlier, a comparatively young Honuse Relaiyent stood before Thor himself, defiant in the face of death and humiliation. Yet the god’s own lightning had failed to kill the man; instead, it had forced its way into his skeleton, where it traveled continuously, controlled by the Lawmaker’s own indomitable will. And now, having come into contact with the naked metal of the intruder’s sword, it was unleashed in unmitigated fury. Thousands of volts of white fire traveled along the blade, crossing the hilt to the shaking hands of the weapon’s foolish owner.

Lightning fell from the sky, eager to embrace its distant relation; a bolt hit the abomination upon the head, charring his scarred and tattooed skin even further, reacting explosively as the stream crossed with the sword lodged in his flesh. With a tremendous noise and a kick of energy, the blade was thrust out of the wound, still clasped reflexively by its wielder. Grunting against the unpleasant intensity of the lightning strike, Honuse Relaiyent swept his blade upwards, forcing the attacker’s weapon back with renewed strength. The abomination rotated with the blade, pivoting on his right foot to bring his left up in a devastating kick against the midsection of the smaller being. As his spin continued, a third projectile flew inwards from the first enemy; finishing his rotation, the abomination slid to the side of the stone before using his sword to bat it, increasing its speed tenfold.

The rock flew backwards, aimed at the body of the reeling swordsman, while the Lawmaker focused his attention solely on his first opponent. The sling-wielder was attempting to load another stone, until his gaze found the leather-clad giant resuming his steady trot forward. With an inward smile, Honuse Relaiyent noted the man’s shift in tactics; a wooden staff was chosen in lieu of a fourth stone, a tactic that would prove equally useless against the mountain of the gods. Mud squished under his boots as he advanced towards the now-charging warrior. Smoke flew wildly out from the sides, while the emerald brightness showed an odd structure to the being; it did not have the same physical makeup as a human, being of a species that the giant had never before encountered.

Nevertheless, from his long experiences in warfare the Lawmaker knew few bipeds that could resist a blade to the midsection. They met with an incongruity of styles and tactics, the larger stopping with his right foot braced and the left leading, with sword rotated into a reverse grip, held to the side with armblade protruding forward, while the left remained at center guard. The smaller of the two attempted to bowl the abomination over through momentum and sheer force of will; his staff was held forward, shoved at arm’s length as he approached the Norse soldier. The wooden haft met the sharpened point of an armblade; it penetrated far enough to strike the abomination’s knuckles before stopping.

Honuse Relaiyent’s left hand darted out, grabbing the center of the pole before yanking backwards with a sudden motion. The weapon flew from the grasp of its owner, still attached by the metal blade atop the Lawmaker’s arm, as it suddenly reversed direction; the giant’s left hand directed it in a blunt attack against his opponent’s head. It rebounded easily, adding momentum to a pivot on his left foot, sweeping the sword in the abomination’s right hand towards his opponent’s midsection, whistling through the air in joyful melody, eager for the kiss of blood.

[Jericho]

Bunnies approved by Shadowed.

The blow sent splinters of shock through Jericho's skeleton, knocking his chin over his left shoulder—and he saw the blade. His knees buckled and he fell backward, catching himself on his left hand as the giant's weapon whisked above him and slid through his right branch of antlers as through a cobweb.

His scream had barely started to boil in his lungs when the monster's arm reversed its swing, lashing across his back with an angled edge to send him tumbling over the undergrowth. He came to rest on his right side, facing his adversary with his raw, fractured antler digging into the earth. Disfiguring him, beating him with his own weapons—the Giant had not changed its tactics in years.

CRACK.

With one hand, the ogre broke his quarterstaff in two to free his blade, absently letting the pieces fall at his sides.

Jericho rose to his feet. His strength, his adrenaline, had long been spent. Only will held him upright now.

He ran. The effort tore at every nerve, ran fangs through every fiber of his body, but he ran, dodged, ducked, and as the enemy leveled another swing at his approach, he fell, rolled, and came to his feet with a splintered fragment of the staff in his hand. With the ragged cry of a stallion choosing death over the saddle, he drove the jagged end at his foe.

With the immeasurable strength and indifference of an ocean wave, the giant spun, catching the jab with a backhanded strike that threw Jericho twenty yards into a tree trunk.

The elkin's vision ignited with claws of white hellfire, his body blazing as the bark pulled strips of eschar from what remained of the flesh on his back. And somehow, his muscles found the strength to quiver.

I can't. No use. It was too big. The Giant had always been too big, too strong, ever lurking behind the masonry of his mind. The guilt—he had built walls of righteousness and good deeds around it for years, but the Giant would not be contained. It toppled his facade with the same ease with which his enemy had shattered his staff.

With a throaty growl wholly alien to his species, the elkin pushed himself to his feet one final time. The behemoth was strolling toward him, free of hurry. There were no walls, now. No masks of purity and faith to hide behind. Only himself, and the sin he had allowed to consume his soul.

“If you can hear me,” he whispered, with breath rougher than sackcloth, “please forgive me, Father.”

I already have.

His lungs, his brain, his heart all locked, and suddenly his memory was scrambling, his thoughts raging. Had he heard? Or had he imagined it? Had—

A last reservoir of power burst within his blood, his muscles coiling and springing in a final charge, his neck bent to bring his antlers to bear. The giant began to run as well, in long, loping strides, its huge arms rocking in wide pendulums.

The two nearly collided when one of those monstrous hands swung low and out, clamping around his neck and throwing him skyward. The trauma to his spine drove hailstorms through his nerves, and once more his vision flashed as his trachea collapsed.

I never left you, Jericho. I never closed the path.

The giant's vicegrip released, and he hung in the air for a single timeless moment.

But if you are to succeed in the battle to come, part of you must die.

With the force of a thousand stampedes, the giant's left armblade rammed through his gut. He felt his stomach torn from its niche as the blow drove him into the ground, pinning him like a moth on a needle. Every sense was ice, but for one.

There is no Giant stronger than I, Jericho. Can you trust, even now, that I have made a way?

The monster pulled back its right arm and plunged its sinister edge through the elkin's heart.

Yes...yes.

Whiteness.



-

[Kryos]

Bunnies approved by Shadowed.

Kryos’ crazed, silver eyes stared upward, straining to see an invisible object too far to see, hidden beyond the dense growth above him. Fire shot through his body, coursed in his veins with his blood, ripping and thrashing and biting his nerves. He thought his spine arched–mouth jerk open in a soundless scream–but all normal sense of feeling had been executed by the acid that burned his core. Red flashed in his vision, coating the falling rain with the vile hue, as if the heavens shared his pain and bled the crimson water. Steam rose from his charred skin; he knew his left hand was burned beyond recognition with the electricity that had snapped through his body, causing damage to his entire system. His vision went black, and he screamed for release, though only his mind could hear the desperate, agony-filled howl.

Then, the current that crashed beneath his skin calmed. The pain that consumed his being ceased, only to be replaced by many different kinds of feelings. His body burned, muscles locked in a death grip on his bones while an intense pressure crushed his chest. The skin over his entire body felt as if razors were being dragged across it, opening hundreds of wounds simultaneously before starting over again. Somehow, his heart still endured, pumping the blood that was liquid fire through his body and out into the air, down his defeated form and into the already corrupted ground that pressed incredibly hard against his back. His mouth opened, gaping and seeking desperately to intake the foul air to alleviate the burning in his lungs. He was suffocating! The muscles in his chest did not respond, to save him from this fate. It was as if a thousand pounds of the sea had filled his airway, refusing to be expelled as it doused his life. He had no control over himself. He could do nothing.

The crashing beats of his pulse faltered, and he resigned himself. He would endure the pain, in hope of freedom from it. At the end . . . he hoped . . .

With death’s kiss inches from his lips, his body finally decided to extend the pain of life a little longer. Air rushed down his throat with a sound from beyond the grave: a sigh of desecrated spirits. His chest rose with the breath and daggers pierced his lungs, sending him into an excruciating bout of coughing. His ribs, broken when the giant had kicked him, waited to dig deeper into his flesh. He strained to keep his breathing shallow, fighting the suffocating feeling once more.

Order returned to his mind. He needed to move, see what was happening. Where was Jericho? What was their fate? But his body refused to respond, lying there as it suffered the endless torment. Only his head turned as a result of his feeble efforts. His vision spun, rotated so he could see the flames that burned regardless of the rain, the shadows that masked everything in uncertainty. He could see the monstrous warrior, the blade gleaming in the hellish light.

He heard the thud as it plunged downward and sank into the chest of the fallen elkin, impaling the heart, before tearing through bone, organ, and muscle as the warrior ripped the blade through the benevolent creature. Blood gushed from the corpse and into the ground upon which the victor stood, staring down on his victim.

Jericho . . . No . . . The look in the elkin’s eyes stopped him, though. They were filled with peace, as if he had accepted his fate, assured that all would be well. Assurance that Kryos yearned for, but never found.

No . . . The thought was an empty whisper of disbelief that brought a helpless sob to his hurting chest. Jericho didn’t deserve to die. He wasn’t even a warrior; he should never have become mixed up with this damned tournament.

Once again, Kryos stared at the limp and bleeding body of an innocent, dead because he had not the power to intervene.

Memories flashed through his mind’s eye. A boy, infinite shadows. Blood, and a body in a bed, heavily bandaged. Images from the past few days as well. Jericho’s surprised face when they first met, and relief when Kryos agreed to work together. The peace that filled him when they had meditated before their first match. The face of horror, fear, and solitude. Elkin and boy, it mattered not who wore that mask. The guise that flaunted the fact that he was incompetent.

No! Not again!

A strangled groan breached Kryos’ throat in anger. He wrenched back the pain that overwhelmed his senses, bearing the weight with his new desperation. He would strike down the face of darkness with all he had. Face contorted with repressed misery, he commanded his body to move. Anguish searing his limbs answered him, but he forced his arms to move, a scream escaping his clenched teeth. His broken ribs ran against his lungs again, and a new pain in his left elbow racked his exhausted nerves; the joint had been shattered with the stone the warrior had redirected. Putting everything into the action, he sat up. His endurance was just about gone; he wouldn’t be able fight back in his current state.

Nevertheless, he defied the great powers, and suffered another wave of agony as he lurched to his feet, falling back upon the tree behind him for support. He closed his eyes as he fought for the strength to keep standing.

A whistling of air was all Kryos heard before cold, wet steel blasted through his torso, tearing his skin, breaking more ribs, and ripping through organs. With a thud, it entered the tree upon which he leaned, binding him to the spot. Scarlet poured from the wound and he gasped as cold spread from the blade, numbing his senses. With his right hand, he touched the red sword that protruded from him, his own blood pulsing over his fingers and into his palm.

His vision shifted, blurred over as he looked around. A giant shadow moved through the orange glow of the hissing fires, the subdued light dancing with the shadows the flames cast. Everything was surreal, with the rain and steam and lining of decay that blanketed the ground. Each footfall of the warrior of death sounded loud in his ears. His final countdown. He lost the dark form in the rippling shadows that played with his vision. As he dumbly stared ahead, the flames changed, became specters that begged with him, yelled at him. Faces of dread and fear, a last hope when none existed. A mask of regret. And in the legions of the forsaken, Jericho. The elk did not yell or plead with him. Instead, his flaming face just watched him, eyes calm and understanding. Eyes that saw into his soul. The dwiilar bent his head in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked back, and his breath froze. Jericho’s face had been replaced by . . .

Lorin.

Tears welled in Kryos’ eyes, streaking down his burnt cheeks unbidden as he thought of his long-deceased friend. The pain at remembrance cut into his soul, rivaling the agony his body felt. It hadn’t been his fault. He knew that! If only he’d been stronger, things may have been different, just as Jericho could still be alive had he been stronger.

Perhaps wishing for what will not be only brings suffering.

Then, he remembered the promise he’d made. The vow to save him. Righteous wrath built in his soul until it burned with black rage. Shadows closing in upon him, he lifted his gaze to the giant before him, into the empty eyes that stared down at his pitiful form. Silently, the demon grasped the hilt that was soaked with Kryos’ blood. This was it.

With the last of his strength, and fueled by his burning hatred, Kryos summoned the essence of his soul. Igniting the sable power into existence along the fabric and equipment that shrouded the body of the dark behemoth, the ethereal flames scorched the soul with all the power he had.

His vision erupted in ivory light, and the crackling of a surging current enveloped him.



Save him . . .

[Shadowed]

I realize this is a little late. Jericho had some last-minute finals, delaying the close of the thread. So, since it is past the cutoff, I understand if it's not counted towards the score; I just wanted to finish up the thread. Though, if my opponents have no objection, I'd like to see it included, as I feel it's the perfect finish to this excellent fight. Your call, judges.

With a piercing wail, the sword resting upon Honuse Relaiyent’s back erupted into bright flames; though they emitted no heat, the sensation of movement upon his back bewildered the giant, prompting him to release the smaller blade resting within the fallen warrior. With a single motion, he stepped back and unsheathed the ancient weapon, filling the dark jungle with brightness greater than Sol’s own intensity. The smoke reflected the glare, dazzling the abomination’s mind as it struggled to adapt to the sudden change in perception. With a second clarion call, the flames covering the blade, which was named Alsvid, expanded through the surrounding trees and brush.

The piercing light faded to a more common intensity, one suited to the expanse of wild flames cast about the area. For hundreds of feet, phantom conflagrations spread, appearing to ignite the very air. Alsvid, an ancient weapon sanctified in the blood of demon, god, and innocent, was one of peculiar lineage, having been given to the original Lawmaker by Odin, who was gifted it by the skilled smiths of the dwarven people. Though it had passed to Honuse Relaiyent in years past, it maintained the peculiar trait of bearing the living image of the souls its owner had banished to Hel. The image, which was invisible to mortals, now stood blank, an event that had not happened since its ritual birth.

With the sound of crashing waves, a flood of red liquid cascaded through the forest, crashing between burning trees, fueling the fires rather than quenching them. It overcame the giant, forcing him to his knees before dissolving into the ground. In its wake stood tens of thousands of specters, ghostly images of men, women, and children, along with many elves, dwarves, and giants, along with a number of uncategorized species. Each stood with a notable disfigurement; many were without heads, while others had gaping wounds across their bodies, however they had come to death. It was the assembly of damnation, the gathering of lives ended in dishonor by the hand of Honuse Relaiyent. The Lawmaker’s mind worked furiously to understand what had happened to release the river of blood, thrusting its inhabitants upon a mortal realm.

With slow comprehension, the giant recalled the flash of color that had emanated from the fallen warrior as the Lawmaker prepared to finish the deed. It was clear that the attack, or whatever it stood to be, had fueled the latent aggression and malice within Alsvid, incarnating the images of the damned within the lands of the living. Indeed, as he looked about, the smoke did not curl around the bodies, but rather through them, something that would never happen with a corporeal being. With the trace of a smile, the abomination raised Alsvid to the sky; Thor answered, heralding the waning night with a roll of thunder to ease the passage of the damned. Lightning peppered the ground, beating a death tattoo upon the land, casting wicked shadows through the fiery expanse encasing the jungle.

The echoed sounded as a thousand terrible drums, stamping wildly as they raced towards crescendo. With his pulse quickening, Honuse Relaiyent lowered Alsvid to his side, holding his arms out wide. He bellowed, answering the psychotically primal rhythm with his own indomitable will, daring the legions of dead to voice their grievances with the Elect of the Gods. Their images wavered, yet persisted in the grim firelight, shimmering uneasily in the rain; Alsvid flashed, inciting a quiver among the decimated fallen, many of whom had felt its unholy bite upon their flesh in ages past. Satisfied that his honor stood above the very foundations of the earth, the Lawmaker turned to the dying swordsman, who rested against the tree, still pinned in place, while the last traces of life clung to its pitiful shell.

The thunderous drums reached their peak, coming together in a mighty crash that shook the universe; the sound of it reached the distant branches of Yggdrasil, felling lesser twigs by the hundred. Shifting his weight evenly in the burning mud, Honuse Relaiyent grasped Alsvid with both hands over his shoulder, bringing the terrible weapon about in a single stroke. It flashed through the air, invisible to the naked eye, with naught by a shrill whistle to mark its passage. The ancient blade pierced flesh and tree alike, cleaving the trunk in a sheer cut, while the head of the fated interloper fell away. With a crash that sounded as a whisper amidst the fading echoes of thunder, the tree reached the ground, dissolving the ghostly flames and images in a flash of grey smoke.

Silence reigned in the night. Two bodies littered the ground around the feet of a lone warrior, whose arms shook with the closest emotion to joy he was capable of. With a last casual glance at the pervasive destruction he had caused, the man, abomination to his kin, destroyer to his enemies, and servant to the gods, turned to depart, his task completed.

[Taskmienster]

Thanks to both teams for completing this battle! This thread will now be closed, and should be judged shortly! For the sake of fairness, I missed closing it before the last post, which is my fault since I was unspecific as to exactly when the extension ended. Therefore it will be included in the judgment and count with all the rest of the thread.

[Ebivoulya]

Well, this judgment’s been done for about a week. I guess the suspense has built to a palpable enough point that I can go ahead and post it. As per the usual, questions or comments can be directed to me via PM. Also, thought you might be interested to know that this thread stretched to a whopping 18,250 words. Without further ado, I give you your judgment:



The Whole Glory

Story: 20.5 / 30

Storytelling: 4.25 / 5

Shadowed: Without dragging on about your past, you managed to both give the reader an idea of who you were, and set the scene from the end of your last battle in one paragraph. You covered almost everything about your character’s past, from why and how he became what he is, up to his reasons for being at the tournament. You give the reader a very deep look into how Honouse thinks, and the mythology surrounding him. Your poems in your third post were exceptionally well done. The anger of the very ground around Till as he died was a very poetic and fitting touch. You always give your posts a sense of a beginning and an end, wrapping things up at the end of each post just as you get back into them at the start of the next. The ending of your last post was good, but I felt like it could’ve been better. All in all, damn well done.


Setting: 7.5 / 10

Shadowed: Your descriptions of the scene around you are both vivid, and very poetic. When describing sounds, you almost always use both the word ‘sound,’ and reference your character’s ears. Your description of the souls of all those you killed surrounding you was exceptionally awesome, and vivid in imagery, though. You don’t ever seem to lose track of the world around you, and that keeps your posts feeling very realistic. Well done.


Pacing: 8.75 / 15

Shadowed: You word things fairly eloquently, but there are occasional unnecessary words or phrases that you could frankly leave out. There are many points in your posts where you lapse into purple prose. It’s never exceptionally thick, but it’s there. There is almost no need for some of the technical terminology you use, and it really just slows your posts down more. You described your attack in your fourth post much more concisely than the others, giving the reader only the information they needed to understand what was going on, and to visualize it. Try to stick more to that level of description, lest your posts drag on.

Character: 27.25 / 35

Dialogue: 6.75 / 10

Shadowed: There was very little dialogue at all in any of your posts in this thread. That was within reason considering your character’s partner died early on, but you could’ve possibly thrown in some taunts during the battle itself. The couple of lines you did include were well done, and fit with Honouse, though.


Action: 12.25 / 15

Shadowed: The way you gutted that tiger was sheer brutality, and the imagery of it was perfect. The fact that Honouse hollowed out a tree and hid inside it is also bad-ass. You got very longwinded in describing the first attack your character made, and the subsequent personification of the sky, though. The scenes of the various gods as their elect fell were an excellent addition. You become rather verbose in describing the effects of the corrosive cloud you created with Till’s corpse, although the actual act itself was very original and unique. You describe both the how and why of what your character does, and as such all his actions seem within the realm of possibility. Honouse’s decision to allow the warrior he was fighting a blow on him just to unleash his electrical attack reinforced his conclusion that quick victories were meaningless. His challenge to the dead before him really highlighted his determination, and was just an awesome scene. I really enjoyed the action in this thread.


Persona: 8.25 / 10

Shadowed: Honouse is one of the most original and fully-developed characters I’ve seen, even if he is based in Norse mythology. His thoughts and conclusions are well explained in the narrative, and his thoughts on the meaning of the valkyrie messenger gave a little more insight into what it means to be the ‘Lawmaker.’ You go into fair detail about the relationship between Till and Honouse, and at several points use that to ironic effect. Your descriptions of how Honouse ‘sees’ are always interesting and unique. You really get into your characters head, even explaining his desire to do deeds worthy of glorious songs upon his return. He is deeply embedded in the mythology you’ve used, and his reaction to seeing everyone he’s killed standing before him was one of the few times he seemed the least bit confused or flustered. He quickly regained his analytical mind, though, and his conclusions about the nature of his opponent’s last attack were appropriate.

Writing Style: 24.75 / 30

Technique: 8 / 10

Shadowed: You can get exceptionally thick with your prose. This gives a great amount of information to the reader, but the trade-off is a bit of clarity and pacing. Your narrative voice even has some qualities reminiscent of old religious scriptures, which fits awesomely with the mythology you’ve chosen. You inevitably use some of the same wording for similar situations, like something ‘thrusting’ itself into his mind, or ‘removing’ itself from his mind, and you reuse a lot of phrases, one example being ‘beating a death tattoo upon the land.’ Still, you’ve got a fairly awesome writing style that’s heavy but somehow avoids purple prose, for the most part.


Mechanics: 8.5 / 10

Shadowed: I don’t think I noticed very many errors, although there were a couple. Given the length of some of your posts, there was less that I was expecting, however. There were really never any problems with you grammar, or anything of that sort. Most of what I saw seemed to be typos.


Clarity: 8.25 /10

Shadowed: Due to the thickness of some of your prose, it was occasionally hard to understand what you were saying. This was never due to any kind of error, though, just perhaps putting too much into one sentence. Luckily, I usually understood it the second time through, and the number of instances decreased as the thread progressed.


Wildcard: 4.5 / 5

Not only do you have an awesomely deep and developed character, but you continued and finished the fight despite your partner dropping out.


Total: 77 / 100


Shadowed receives...

650 EXP and 450 GP!



Jericho’s score will be the first, Kryos’ the second.


Penumbra Intersect

Story: 20 – 19.5 / 30

Storytelling: 3.75 – 3.5 / 5

Jericho: You mention your character’s name before even acknowledging his presence in the scene, and you mention the ‘tournament’ and ‘Cabal’ casually, as if they should be understood things. You explain the missing presence of the ‘One,’ and the effect this has on Jericho and his abilities well, though. Your flashback was both well timed, and denoted for easy understanding. The conveniently-placed stones were a nice touch that reinforced his resolve to overcome his inner shortcomings. Jericho’s calm acceptance of the end after his last-ditch effort was carelessly tossed aside really spoke a lot about his faith. You gave me a pretty good look into your character and his story, but there could’ve been a bit more.

Kyros: You reveal a lot about your character in your intro. There is an overabundance of information not essential to the progression of the story, and wading through all of it is a tiresome task, however. You do an effective job of conveying the rushed mood of a fight, from referencing the clash of weapons before even mentioning anyone moving, to shortening your sentence length. Although it definitely helped the pacing a lot considering your massive posts, it would’ve been nice to hear Kryos’ thoughts on the death of Till. It adds an interesting dynamic to the relationship between you and your partner, but I was wondering why Kryos seemed so worried about Jericho considering their earlier conversation about him ‘pulling his own weight,’ so to speak. Kryos’ has some fairly complicated thoughts and feelings as his body slowly gave in to its injuries, and that gives the reader one last glance into his mind; perhaps the deepest of all your posts in the thread.


Setting: 7 – 7.5 / 10

Jericho: Your style seems to favor narrative and character explanation, but you managed to work in a good deal of setting and emotional imagery as well. You maintain a pretty clear awareness of the arena and its effects on Jericho, but often get lost in the narrative.

Kyros: You describe the void through which you are transported very vividly, and you give a very vivid and visual description of the arena upon entering it; perhaps too much so. You showed the effect of the chaos around Kryos well, and your description of the first opponent you saw was appropriately frightening, and very vivid. Beyond that you really just tried to put too much into your posts, and that detracted from the good parts.


Pacing: 9.25 – 8.5 / 15

Jericho: You’ve got a fairly steady pace in your narration, but that fluctuates when you reach dialogue. Although it was interesting to see the exchanged words from Jericho’s perspective, the backtracking wasn’t necessary and slowed the pacing. Once you get into the arena, your pacing slows more until you actually get involved in the fight.

Kyros: The language you used in your intro post was very eloquent, but much thicker than usual. Your second post was significantly less thick, and a lot easier to read. You picked up your second post at a good point, and didn’t backtrack too much. You give an exceptionally vivid description of the effects of the ‘fog’ on Kryos, but during it there are still several points that are too wordy. All in all, you should look back over your posts and get rid of any phrases that don’t directly contribute to the thread; try not to repeat yourself in different wording.

Character: 24.75 – 23.25 / 35

Dialogue: 7.25 – 6.75 / 10

Jericho: The dialogue you employ is appropriate. The conversation between Jericho and Kyros about that memory explained a lot about both of them, and the dynamic by which they interact. Understandably, after they part ways there’s no more dialogue except for your internal monologue.

Kyros: Kryos’ dialogue seems too thick to be naturally spoken. The dialogue between you and your partner was good, though, and highlighted the mindsets of each of you. It may be in Kryos’ character to speak that way, but I can’t imagine him doing it very well.


Action: 10 – 9.75 / 15

Jericho: Your attempt to escape the fiery cage was very realistic. You milked the suspense just before you fired the stone at Honouse, and the very last line simply stating that he batted it away brought some real disappointment. The last-minute confirmation of the presence of the One really wrapped up the fight well, and I thought it was an excellent way to end it. There wasn’t a lot of action with your character, but the point is what action there was you played very realistically.

Kyros: You give a very good description of Jericho’s power, and its effect on the plant and animal life around them alike. You repeated yourself a lot in describing the attack your opponent made, however, and though for purposes of thread progression, it is very unrealistic that your character could scale a pile of downed and flaming trees. You never gave me any solid reason to believe he could, you just did it. You play your character very realistically after succumbing to the aging fog, though. Your description of the arcing electrical shrapnel attack highlighted the confused and dazed nature of your character at the time, and Kryos’ last attack before he died was very appropriate, as was his final thought.


Persona: 7.5 – 6.75 / 10

Jericho: Your decision to dwell on the upturned memory exposed when your character and his partner ‘touched minds’ really helped explain his current mental state, and gave a bit more insight into their relationship. You delve into his reasons for being with Kryos, and that helps explain more of his personality, and their relationship. Jericho’s struggle to gain the aid of the One highlighted his troubled state. You describe his fear at seeing Honouse stalking through the night very appropriately, and Jericho’s association of Honouse with his own inner giant brought out the struggle he’d been dealing with since the fight started. You really capture Jericho’s fear near the end well, and all his actions are appropriate and within character.

Kyros: Kryos’ own past seemed to haunt him as well as they travelled to their arena, and this gave some good insight into him. You also highlight the unspoken interactions between your character and his partner. Your character seems to make the best out of his situation, and somehow manages to avoid the despair that might grip a lesser warrior in seeing the behemoth he had to fight. You describe the pain and sensations going through Kryos’ mind as he lay there after being shocked very well, and his thoughts on Jericho’s death showed a little bit of his own philosophy. Working the memory of Lorin into Kryos’ last few moments also highlighted his own internal struggles, but I just didn’t feel convinced he was real; there’s very little emotion in your posts.

Writing Style: 23 – 21 / 30

Technique: 7 – 6.5 / 10

Jericho: It seems to me you tried to mimic Shadowed’s verbose style in your first post. Unfortunately, you really only expounded on unnecessary information, which made it seem more complex, but in fact added little to the thread other than some too-wordy imagery. Your interspersal of short narrative lines in-between dialogue and the redundant nature of some of them kind of drove home the ‘childish’ aspect of the memory in your flashback, though. The fact that you only described the important parts also made it seem more like a memory, rather than a scene. You utilize personification fairly effectively, if a little too often, and you used a lot of onomatopoeias in your third post as well.

Kyros: The wordiness of your first post really brings down the pacing and clarity. Your style can be very heavy with visual imagery, but there’s not a lot of emotional attachment, or mood established. You lapse into purple prose a lot in this thread, and I mean a lot. It was sometimes a struggle just to get through some of your narrative. Seriously consider toning it down, more does not always mean better; it’s how you say it, not how much you say.


Mechanics: 8 – 7.5 / 10

Jericho: I don’t think I noticed many errors except for a predisposition to use onomatopoeias as one-word sentences, and maybe a couple of sentences starting with conjunctions. There were errors, but not many, and I thought you did well here.

Kyros: You seem to use a lot of incomplete sentences, and sentences starting with conjunctions. Though the effects of those are obvious, there are more grammatically correct ways of achieving the same effect. Also, given the large nature of some of your posts, there were a number of typos. These didn’t grow too numerous, though, so you didn’t do too bad in this category.


Clarity: 8 – 7 / 10

Jericho: After your first post, you became a lot more casual with your writing, which lends itself to ease of understanding. I rarely had trouble figuring out what you meant, or why you use some particular wording.

Kyros: Due to the large and complex nature of your posts there are many points where clarity becomes an issue. There are a number of typos or small mistakes that add up to a fair bit after two or three massive posts, as well.


Wildcard: 6 – 4.5



Total: 73.75 – 68.25 / 100


Jericho receives...

500 EXP and 450 GP!

Kyros receives...

1,100 EXP and 400 GP!

The Whole Glory is Victorious!

[Taskmienster]

Exp and Gp added!