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Thread: Who You Gonna Call? (Closed)

  1. #11
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    Sickly shade sliced through the night like a bolt, and despite the desperate lean a sliver snicked his glistening brow. Severed shaft knocked the nimble arm aside as the wary warrior stepped back, shaking a few droplets from his forehead to clear the blistering rage; so sharp it had swelled. Seeking some advantage as he reset his stance, azure eyes alighted upon a dusty lantern near the mausoleum. Thoughts turned to the thirsting plynt nestled in brown belt, then turned some other colors and tasted funny; another quick head-shake took care of that. One gloved hand dove into his vest while the other flipped the halberd's haft up to hold it like a spear; the grin returned to gritty chin despite the chilling blaze within.

    Skin crawled cold and prickly while owls questioned each-other in the nearby trees, and his grip on the succulent surprise recalled the hunger anew. The numbness now in his shoulder paled to that which rolled down from bleeding brow, but the wanderer did not waver. From leathered folds flew the stained stump of a severed hand, all fingers but one tied down with a bit of string. As it sailed through the air, a moonlit middle-finger unfurled like a flag on the breeze. Just as the delicious distraction reached the peak of its arc between the two warriors he hurled the halberd shaft like a spear right for the specter's chest.

    The mortal madman sprinted cackling toward the mausoleum.

    Pumping pistons in brown cloth, the swordsman's legs devoured the ground between him and his goal in a moment. By the time he had clipped the spool of wire onto his plynt dagger, steel heels were digging ruts into the crisp grass. All across his mindscape angles bent and smells discolored, and once steady things shifted and flowed, but focus remained. With flair the wanderer flicked the knife up into his hand and slammed it into the side of the lantern to break the glass as he tilted it forward. For a brief moment the oil that flowed over the metal simply vanished, but as soon as it dripped again the warrior reached up to the hilt of his bastard sword as he struck the dagger across stone and spun around.

    Sparked to flame, green steel gleamed, broad blade bared as well toward the wicked wraith; surely something would kill it.

  2. #12
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    The halberd was suddenly thrown like a spear.

    Elthas saw the attack coming, his eyes narrowed and he focused his eyes on the attack. The halberd sailed through the air, Elthas reacted quickly enough. Using his reaction time to great advantage, he sliced at the weapon with his spectral dagger. At that point, there was a crack as the spectral dagger sliced through the halberd and the two clean pieced fell to the ground. It was at that point that...

    ...Elthas did not see the madman's goal...he only saw as the fellow cowered away as a result of his previous action.

    "Funny...I thought you braver than this..." But Elthas spoke to soon about his now markedly insane opponent.

    Likely an affect of his spectral attack.

    He has become more aggressive...I will remember that. Elthas thought to himself as he watched the man sprint off in amazing speed. He's fast...I have underestimated his skill level. Then something happened all at once. Elthas's eyes darted forward as the night air became ignited with a burst of flame. The Wraith could only watch the madman coat his own weapon with fresh fires. The lantern, still ablaze with fires, burst from the sudden friction that was tossed against it. Elthas heard a loud burst as the fire was used in such a way. Then, Elthas saw the glowing green plynt weapon. Son a bitch. He held back... Elthas rotated his daggers but something happened he did not count on.

    The fires began to spread across the mausoleum.

    Elthas noticed that the ancient oil served as a catalyst for the hungry flame. He'll kill us both! Elthas thought angrily. Desperation oft made madmen tip over the edge of the abyss. Elthas glanced at the flames as they began to haphazardly lick everything in their path. Elthas was ever mindful of his surroundings because of his training under the guidance of Seth Terrentius. Seth had taught him to be weary of certain aspects of the physical world...fire being one of them.

    The Wraith was already on the move.

    As he looked upon the crazy mortal, Elthas dashed off at a harsh angle away and around of the trialing fire. The oil was trickling quickly and somehow dripping all over the damned place. The ancient earth and old roots, skeletons, bones...caught fire right away. Elthas did not like how quickly south the situation had turned. I've awakened a sleeping dragon... Elthas thought to himself. He knew, he had to act. The blade of his spectral weapons craved for more of the sanity of the mortal before him. His mind is powerful...maybe I can use that against him. And so, Elthas formed a plan.

    The fires spread with the lantern oil and Elthas moved away from the fires as fast as he could.

    From afar, the old mausoleum would look like a massive fireball suddenly struck it.

    Once Elthas had regained his footing, he struck. He'd worked his way around the fires and around the madman...or at least attempting to. The fire was spreading quickly and Elthas would have to be careful that he would have an escape route secure once everything was over. As he maneuvered, he suddenly attacked. He jumped forward...with the fires chasing him like an angry serpent...and prepared both of his spectral weapons. The true battle had started as Elthas decided to remove any hesitation he had of preventing the man's death. It would be unavoidable at that point. Elthas knew. He's sealed our fate and I will take him with ME! As The Wraith leaped through the air and towards the mortal, he struck downward in an attempt to connect with the man before him. His spectral blades glowed menacingly in the darkness as they waited to taste more of the man's precious memories.

    And so it began...

    The beginning of the end.
    Last edited by Elthas_Belthasar; 10-24-16 at 03:31 PM.
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  3. #13
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    Ebivoulya's Avatar

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    Fiery rage whipped up with the wind, long denied its chance to devour, and the prickling sting of black smoke was sharp and acrid on the tongue. The painful heat on his skin stretched the madman's grin, and as the cacophony of nonsense grew louder in his mind, he laughed. "He who speaks of bravery runs from fire?" the half-elf jibbed as his nimble, night-cloaked foe swiftly bore wide berth around growing blaze. Dagger dropped and spool spun before leathered fingers gripped tight the steel wire, and the flickering flames on porous plynt flared as the semi-sane swordsman whipped the weapon up into a spin. The crackling tinder grew to a roar as inferno spread, and the wavering world grew silent and red.

    Despite the wicked wraith's speed, pathways through the shifting fires were few. As it darted down one, the half-elf faced his foe, and tilted his large bastard sword to the side for a backhand swing while the slithering specter neared. The surface of the madman's mind was a still lake as he waited for the right timing, but below murky things wrestled in a deepening cloud of black. Long hours waited with hunger unabated, time clung to the perceiver with a terrified grip; one to see, the other to be, until none were. The serene sense of simple madness sank like a comfortable cushion, all flat corners and torn fabric; damn bloodstains never came out. Still, walls of ice within and flame without crushed the one tiny, screaming point of calm left adrift on this writhing tide.

    Another shake of the head cleared the mortal's senses as the poltergeist pounced; his wounds must be affecting him, some kind of magic. Through the pulsing crimson haze the wanderer's gaze latched onto those cursed blades, already stepping back and to the side as he readied his swing. The crumbling walls of the mausoleum glowed a shifting orange, a shade of flame that danced along gravestones and gargoyles, but deeper in the woods night claimed all light, these ruins a tiny spark in a black sea. As the specter landed, the side-stepping swordsman swatted at slender arms with the flat of his blade, and whipped the flaming dagger down at the wraith's side. The wary wanderer couldn't see a way out of the overwhelming inferno, but he didn't have much time left anyway.

  4. #14
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    Running...no...not running...leading.

    The inferno followed Elthas like a hungry serpent.

    I can see it in his eyes...he's lost all pretenses of sanity. I can use to that to advantage... Elthas was prepared for many things. Even his own demise, he'd walked through that maw before. As Elthas got closer and closer the man fell back on his elegant arsenal. But Elthas was prepared. Elthas swung forward with skilled swings of his spectral blades. His desperate foe lashing out with the bastard sword.

    But Elthas was prepared.

    The man hissed a taunt towards the wraith's general direction. Elthas heard it, but he didn't reply, he merely continued to press his perceived advantage. Elthas's own ectoplasmic body trailing behind him and somehow feeding the supernaturally lit fire. In a desperate blood fury, Elthas saw the face an old enemy in the face of his current opponent. His memories danced before his eyes, in his mind's eyes, like twisted phantoms of the past. Elthas fought through the visions, the torment of his past and then broke through it. The torment was caused as a reaction of the many injuries he'd sustained through the encounter against the mortal madman...

    And Elthas continued to battle despite it all.

    Through it all, Elthas fought the madman on equal footing.

    The dance within Elthas's inferno became elegant and almost synchronized. Somehow, the spectral blades initial attack on the madman missed their mark at the wide and desperate swing of the bastard sword. Elthas did not relent. Heat and sparks of fire began to spread everywhere...throughout the chosen and hallowed battleground.

    But Elthas did not relent.

    As the two warriors fought, something else happened...

    Elthas took pity on the madman.

    Not because of any morality or honour that Elthas had, of which plenty existed...but because the man was badly hurt.

    As Elthas realized that, he could not bring himself to finish the man off...

    He took a step back and at that point he noticed how badly the fire was spreading. It was only at that point that Elthas considered how serious the situation was getting. Had the madman planned this? He wondered how insane the fellow had gotten at that point. But...Elthas could see it in the man's eyes. The man had lost all semblance of sanity. He's going to try to use depraved tactics...I'll have to match him...but I don't want to harm him any farther than he already is. Elthas thought to himself. He considered that for a long moment and that span of time was roughly a couple of seconds.

    Elthas considered...but there was very little he could do at that point. The inferno around the contained area would likely finish them both off. Elthas was feeling the tremendous heat of the licking flames, and felt the first iotas of pain creeping up his spectral body. Despite that, he studied his opponent, having stepped back for a long moment. The smoke was spreading thick, and there was one thing that Elthas was waiting for. Smoke breathing would not affect Elthas too much. However, he knew that the madman before him had not planned that far ahead.

    "Having a hard time breathing there...?" Elthas suddenly asked.
    Last edited by Elthas_Belthasar; 12-12-16 at 09:26 PM.
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  5. #15
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    Ebivoulya's Avatar

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    Steel turned aside, and aside again; like riding a drunken horse, and abandoned in damp places just the same. After porous plynt fluttered away, metal wire snipped clean, ducks and back-steps floated down the same wall. Soon stabs ceased, however, and flames dulled in disappointment. Stood there all sad, it did, wicked wraith wielding pity to slice. Not a blade to point towards he, never down to look, only up with fear. Sword stayed at searing side, no fool either to waste respite, though acrid and sharp breaths came. Words it gave to fall upon browning grass, the sly specter, words to taint and twist the tendrils twining, smoky lines to rise from cloth and leather. Whose skin blistering mattered not, robes and hands would mending descend, chanting interlopers to steal away sweet escape.

    Gnawing now it slithered cold, and what light remained sank choking in bitter black. Despite roiling rage the walls of flickering orange faltered, content with their meal. The twinkling eyes of gods above beheld the desecrating flame, the descending madness, yet stayed their wrinkled hands in cold towers. Rotten fingers to prod and play, proffered 'gifts' to lesser beings, yet absent always from desperate calls; selfish and pompous, the lot of them. Such burning hate in waves it rose, to blot out searing flesh as cold it paled. No words now to throw into empty corners, false smiles to drip from screaming faces, only the smothering embrace of the void. No longer would the call, the demand, remain unfulfilled. A small smile found singed lips as crimson flooded sapphire eyes.

    Encumbered forever by desire and ambition, a hunger still unsatisfied; the swordsman slumbered now in razor's shade, and so it tended house graciously. Something frail stood there gawking, dripping sympathy and restraint; disgusting. Blood should be flowing, to taste, and smell, and feel; this was entirely too boring. Scalding flesh and smoking clothes sated nothing, a succulent appetizer at best. Muscle shifted under blistering skin as it strengthened its pathetic host, using most of the body's remaining energy to maintain that half-hearted enhancement another minute. Swirling crimson eyes focused on the weak wraith, satisfied now that its form had managed some semblance of power. Its body was sweating what water remained to maintain the technique, which combined to equal a five-fold improvement of both strength and speed. The form would likely not last long at all, but sweet red would flow, and this man who thought to escape death would remember fear; the smile widened.

  6. #16
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    And it so happened, in a flash...the fight took a considerable turn for the worst. Elthas did not entirely understand what was happening...but there was a physical change visible in the eyes of his opponent. The smoke and the fires were not harming his opponent like they should have been. Something is wrong... Elthas thought to himself. And in that moment it all happened. Before he knew it, he blood-shot madman countered Elthas and managed to get a grip on one of his arms. Elthas looked on in pure disgust as his arm was suddenly ripped off! There was a temporary burst of near climatic pain as Elthas realized he'd lost a limb to the madman's attack.

    Elthas did not scream...no...there was no time. The fire was consuming the entire mausoleum around the two of them. Fire ripped through stone, earth, and remains of fallen warriors of the past. Elthas saw that his arm was easily pulled off out of his deltoid region. The spectral energy splattered everywhere, a terrifying thing. As the madman ripped his arm off, Elthas only vaguely began to understand. I have underestimated you...it will not happen again. Elthas thought to himself, his face told all...Elthas had been hurt. Perhaps, in taking pity on the wretched madman before him...Elthas had sealed his own fate. It was at that point...Elthas realized a different matter all together. He felt pain...but it fueled something else entirely within him. Even as he witnessed his spectral limb burn up into ash. Elthas took on a considerably more primal position. It had not been the first time Elthas had suffered mind-numbing injury and pain.

    It would not be the last.

    Elthas gathered his spectral dagger which now howled for the man's memories...his living blood. Elthas narrowed his eyes and could almost taste the man's flesh right before him. A change had also occurred within Elthas as he lost his arm entirely. The change...where once there was pity for the mad wretch...turned into something considerably darker. A harsher reality was visible before Elthas and he carefully looked at the man as time seemed to slow down. He was within range to kiss the man if he wanted to, but there was time for another event to occur. The pain, made Elthas feel alive. He was no strange to pain he only needed to focus in order to punish the man before him. As he rotated his spectral dagger he saw the man prepare a secondary attack with the blade of his remaining sword. It was an elegant sword, a tool of death and destruction.

    Not anywhere near as elegant as his spectral dagger was. The blade manifested the horrifying emotions that Elthas currently felt swelling up in his heart and soul. Not since the time he fought Xu Bellaparte, his old enemy, that he had felt such a seething hatred. In his mind he saw flashes of Xu Bellaparte in front of the madman's face. It triggered him to a point of near-insanity and beyond. The dagger was at the ready for slicing his foe to bits. Elthas had options, he could have used his super speed to great effect. But he wanted to make the man-wretch pay for causing him the physical trauma. It was at that point that Elthas realized a different matter...he reminded himself that he was in The Citadel. There were no allies...only enemies. There was no honour...only cold blood that would satiate the hunter of the Old Ones. The Old Thaynes. Elthas knew what he had to do. He would not only defeat the mad wretch before him...he would destroy him utterly.

    There was no time to exchange words. He growled angrily at the madman, there was no time to think of honour and glory. He realized he had held back for a long time in The Citadel. Images of past warriors passed his mind...the big Salvarn, John...and others he had fought. Those images tormented his mind as he recalled how weak he was back then. "No MORE!" Elthas suddenly called out to the madman. "You've brought this on yourself!" Elthas felt a madness coursing up from the great beyond. The black depth of his soul...and at that point he did the unthinkable. He proceeded to stab the man with his spectral dagger...or at least attempt to stab at the madman's body. But he did not stop there. He proceeded to let himself go. And began to relentlessly stab over and over. And he would not stop. He wanted to make a pinata out of the man before him. He attempted to stab at the man from Hell's heart...releasing all of the fury that he had within...the fury to change the very nature of reality itself.

    And so it began...
    "I'll have DEATH before DISHONOR."-Saying.
    Though you be chained to Hell ITSELF!!!
    Of Wraiths and Shadows.
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  7. #17
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    A fresh flame sparked in spectral eyes, and a malicious grin spread to see it kindled so, reason relenting so swiftly to rage. The thing halted its ignored counter-attack just short of severing the wraith's other arm, and welcomed the stabs like old friends. Warm pain rolled over its abdomen as it gripped the specter's torn shoulder, and gifted the steel of its blade to the wrathful wraith. Firelight flickered on the grim faces of granite gargoyles, and they gazed down solemnly at the pair of madmen swiftly stabbing each-other. A chuckle rose between the warriors, the dark passenger relishing in the sharp black streaks which suffused the spirit's aura. A fine evening it had woken to, with plenty of agony to go around, and a fascinating descent to witness.

    The globs of shade falling from the specter's stomach thinned when a swirling blade caught the steel bastard sword, and clove off a few feet; inferior tools always lengthened the job. Though the stabs continued, the thing within paused to look at its weapon, before hacking off a misty black leg. The wraith responded by shifting its assault to more vital areas; reason wasn't lost after all. Despite the exceptional speed of its host, a blackened blade sliced open one crimson eye before gouging out a bit of skull at a shaky dodge. Without the slap of spectral hilts, its fleshy abdomen split open like wet cloth, and slick intestines slipped out into a soft pile at its feet. A wavering line of gore stretched between them, the same shore that had beached the plans of many who laid gasping in the grip of endless sky.

    Small shifts kept the spirit's dagger from severing anything immediately vital, but its host's scorched lungs were beginning to fill. The wanton wraith's cackle had risen to outright laughter, joined by gurgling guffaws like a shared joke. That which dwelt avoided a thrust to the heart too narrowly, and was forced to use the last dredges of energy to stitch together a nicked artery as it resumed stabbing the specter. Dividing its attention between healing and harming was a paltry thing, enough time dead granted a multifarious nature. The lack of sufficient muscle-memory in its host lessened its speed advantage, however; the attacks on vital areas were still close misses. The twisted pair continued their mutual destruction gleefully, and fire raged through the mausoleum. Together atop ancient corpses, the dead fought to kill each-other, their horizons narrowed to the edge of a blade.

    The spirit's progression into a cold rage struck familiar chords in the thing within, another slope to grasp at slipping, another dark to crush lungs sinking. To wailing drop beneath black waves, mind laid bare and tracked with dirty footprints from an endless stream of broken remnants, and whispered voices. The wraith would have company as it wandered the void, at least. Already, meddling monks mentally hovered, though despite its desire to witness their methods, they did not act. Swiftly severed tendons in one leg collapsed, the specter's seeking blade wandering with abandon again. The dark passenger dropped the steel hilt and latched its remaining arm onto the spirit, leaving its chest open as it sank to one knee and dragged its foe down with it. Blades rained on bare flesh as blood and black chunks spewed coughing, but with one crimson eye wide open and a gurgling cackle the thing began crushing and ripping ethereal chunks out of the wraith.

    The two tore and stabbed at each-other with wild abandon within the engulfing inferno. Flames roared in a quiet forest, the long breath drawn with hallowed peers, and a shadow's tug upon the shade. Overlong its presence lingered, even as the fires grew black, tarrying on that twilight trail so worn. Slackened the grip as the crimson shore stretched, a slump to stab with rage unceasing. Deep drew the baleful void, a calling cold that settled like a soft blanket. Crisping meat slapped against a spectral hilt, a soothing massage to lull and sate. With a stretch and a curl the dark passenger sank, relinquishing its host to robed men relegated to revival. A fire burned deep in the forest, flickering fitfully past endless halls of trunken towers, rekindled where once walls of men blazed through the land to scatter the rotting price of greed. A fire burned in the forest, kindled now by reckless hate, to smolder in dark places, consuming just as much, but leaving behind so much less.

    A fire burned.
    Last edited by Ebivoulya; 02-04-17 at 10:16 AM.

  8. #18
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    Judgment


    Story

    Ebi: 18/30

    Your opening post began on an intriguing note. I wondered, at first, what relevance the severed hand had and expected to see something of it later on. The same goes for the mention of the airship. There didn’t seem to be any story-related reason as to why Nyadir had visited the Citadel at first but then references to his “dark passenger” revealed a bit more to me. Between the issues of clarity I note later on, I gathered he seemed to be feeding his inner madman all the while. Whist you offer less diversity of plot throughout than Elthas, you also keep to one single line of thinking and tie it up nicely at the end.

    The way you made use of the setting and your pacing was fantastic; not just in the haunting description but in the way you used the inferno to bring in an outside factor to the battle. You moved around well and made full use of the mausoleum where possible. The ending of the thread really brought everything together nicely here.

    Elthas: 15/30

    Again, there didn’t seem to be any story related reason as to why Elthas was at the Citadel. I noticed early on you made reference to structured battles in the Citadel as being a product of The Demon’s War, which piqued my interest, but then didn’t seem to elaborate on that any further which I see as a bit of a missed opportunity for you here. This became a bit of a theme for you. In the same post you also make mention of a “great battle that happened here”, but again didn’t elaborate.

    This could be down to the fact that Elthas sensed that something that happened rather than having prior knowledge, but the grey area left by the statement felt lacking. One final note was the mention of Hylda Terrentius; I felt that after the previous two non-explanations that you would pull it around a bit but, again, an explanation of her relevance was sadly not forthcoming and I felt a bit cheated here. You did make up for it slightly by noting that Elthas believed his injuries hurt more due to his relative youth as a wraith, which was clever, but I finished the thread thinking you left more questions than answers. My advice here is this; if you are going to offer tidbits of plot, it is best to follow through rather than leave the reader wondering why you mentioned A,B or C in the first place if it bore little relevance to the fight.

    As with Ebivoulya, you made fantastic use of the setting, although physically I felt you did slightly less than him. Your pacing was a little off towards the end too, I felt, as your posts became larger. The wraith is very suited to this sort of place and movement around the mausoleum was well done, but we went from breakneck combat to a fair bit of standing around thinking. That said, as I mentioned above with Ebi, the ending of the thread really brought everything together nicely here.

    Character

    Ebi: 18/30

    It is clear from the start that Nyadir is dealing with split-personality disorder, one that he affectionately refers to as his “dark passenger”. This is a part I believe you played very well in line with what you perceive Nyadir to be. He is immediately wary of Elthas and as the fight progresses it seems his passenger takes over, taking ever more desperate action to try and defeat the wraith. Whilst I am of the understanding that Nyadir speaks only when he has reason to, which for me is a strong point, I feel you could do more to show us some internal thought processes like Elthas did. A lot of Nyadir’s musings tend to be communicated through complex literary devices rather than actual inner “dialogue”, so this might be a way of also improving clarity too.

    Action here was constant and smooth. The strongest thing you had going for you was the outside of the box thinking when it came to using the flames, as well as the sharp, edgy attacks that fuelled the madman inside. He was going to try and kill Elthas, regardless of his form or function, and it was that thinking which kept the heart of madness pumping. Good job.

    Elthas: 18/30

    You mostly stay true to Elthas’s character throughout, placing emphasis on his nobility and good nature, but are swift to jump back and forth between extremes in posts fourteen and sixteen. Whilst I understand that, once pushed, Elthas can be a dangerous person to annoy the metamorphosis from “good Elthas” to “bad Elthas” did seem a little sudden. I’m taking mostly into consideration that he only just “realised” he was in the Citadel in the latter posts, which seemed odd. What I did though like was his use of internal dialogue to allow the reader to follow his way of thinking. Additionally, your conservative approach to external dialogue served you well here; it’s a fight, after all, and I wouldn’t expect to see too many rambling monologues.

    Right from the outset you knew where you wanted to take the action and the only thing that inhibited you really was the sudden switch between personas. As with Ebi, it was smooth and exciting to watch you two go back and forth. You used your emotions well in this regard, allowing them to shape your character’s words and reactions. Wraith against madman made for an exciting battle!

    Prose

    Ebi: 21/30

    Mechanically there were plenty of positives. There weren’t any obvious spelling errors or any real grammatical issues, but the biggest problem I had here was sentence structure and perhaps even overuse of specific punctuation. I noticed you are a fan of the semi-colon. This is inherent in your technique and the way in which you deliver your metaphors and similes. Whilst technically correct, there were other, easier-on-the-eye methods of doing this and whilst I didn’t mark you down for it in mechanics, it did affect your clarity slightly. The first half of your opening post was crammed so full of literary device that at times I was clinging to singular words like “planks” and “sea” to determine that you were actually on a ship. This eased as the post and the thread went on, in fairness.

    I found your technique to be very unique and full of visualisation. Once the clarity issues subsided, I felt like you were pulling me into the world around you. Shorter posts with just the right amount of complex literary seasoning caught my eye and kept me reading. I thought your closing paragraph in the final post of the thread was sublime, although your last solitary sentence, “A fire burned”, seemed oddly placed given you said exactly the same thing a sentence prior. Perhaps this was a mistake that crept through?

    One final note for fun: kudos for sneaking in some Pink Floyd lyrics from “High Hopes” on post fifteen, paragraph three. Being one of my favourite Floyd songs, it did not go unappreciated.

    Elthas: 18/30

    Although a vast improvement on other threads I have had the pleasure of judging for you, I do have to say that you were slightly (only slightly) weaker than your opponent here. Spelling mistakes were rare, but there were a few grammatical errors which slipped the net. “It’s” instead of “Its” was a popular one along with a few examples sentence fragmentation that crept in. That being said, your simplistic approach to your work really helped your clarity. Rarely, if at all, did I question what Elthas was doing and why. I was never confused as to his whereabouts or what he was trying to do in the heat of battle.

    Your technique differs to Ebivoulya vastly, but your delivery of the writing itself is still of a good quality. Aside from being easy to follow, you make use of paragraphing in such a way that adds suspense to Elthas’s actions (post six being one example). That said, one piece of advice I would offer, and I said as much to Ayithe Solete in her most recent workshop, is to avoid repetition of a single word too much in a sentence. I picked out this from post twelve: “The fires spread with the lantern oil and Elthas moved away from the fires as fast as he could.” Perhaps it would have been better to substitute ‘fires’ for ‘flames’ here? I found the same issue when using Elthas’s name too much later in the thread; an issue not present earlier on when you switched between three or four different descriptions to keep things fresh.

    Wildcard

    Ebi: 6
    Elthas: 6

    This was a decent battle, with plenty of action and a peek into the inner workings of your characters. Good work!

    Total scores

    Ebi: 63
    Elthas: 57

    Ebivoulya wins!

    Ebivoulya receives 1925 EXP and 115 GP
    Elthas Belthasar receives 525 EXP and 80 GP!

    Althanas Operations Administrator



    "When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."

  9. #19
    Deliver Us
    EXP: 69,763, Level: 11
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    Level completed: 40%,
    EXP required for next level: 7,237
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    Shinsou Vaan Osiris's Avatar

    Name
    Shinsou Vaan Osiris
    Age
    31
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Brown
    Eye Color
    Gold
    Build
    6'0", 155lbs
    Job
    "Executor" (Leader) of the Brotherhood

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    Althanas Operations Administrator



    "When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."

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