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Thread: Round 2: Team 4

  1. #11
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    “It’s Dark.” Edim muttered bitterly.

    “Yeh, I see that.”

    “It’s cold.” He added.

    Amari sighed, she didn’t feel the cold as much as he, to her the weather was on the warmer side. “If you say so.”

    “Do you think we’ll get reprimanded if we’re caught?”

    “Edim!” Amari was exasperated. How was a man, who was supposed to be a weathered and well travelled politician be as anxious as he was? “Please! We got a job to do, and I sure as hell won’t be able to focus on this...this thing!” She held the cube up to him and shook it. “If I have to spend every minute consoling you, you’re a grown ass man, act like it! Fuck me…”

    “I’d like that.” He chanced, his voice growing ever so slightly more confident.

    Normally such a remark would cause her ire, especially from someone like Edim but Amari could see he was trying to humour her. “You’re not my type.” She replied with a smirk.

    “But Storm is? He’s probably riddled with all kinds of disease.”

    Amari laughed, “Yes, and admittedly that thought is a bit of a turn off. Suave charm be damned.”

    With a small thought, four tentacles protruded from her back, instead of the crackling red energy of her corruption these ones emitted a soft, almost calming golden glow. Two of them arched over her shoulders, the others under her arms and pressed to all sides of the intricate cube. Amari’s fingers were on the final two sides. The cube glowed softly, in reaction to her own mana.

    “Well, I’ll be damned.” Edim said, but Amari didn’t hear his words, nor his voice.

    She heard the voice of another, it rang in her head in a low rumbling tone, accented by velveteen hisses and inflections. <“It issss Am’Aleh, not Ami’Lee. I find it insssulting ssssomeone asss ignorant asss you holdsss my artifact.”>

    Amari stopped in her path, she knew the voice came from her head, but she instinctively glanced around, “What the fuck?!”

    “Ma’am? You alright?” Edim asked, his fuzzy brows furrowed in concern.

    “I’m hearing voices in my head.” Amari muttered, “I think it may have something to do with this.” She gestured to the cube, not wanting to let it go. “We should probably get to the temple sooner rather than later.”

    The two made their way through the deserted streets toward the water temple, standing atop a hill. A few soldiers dotted their path, but none seemed to bother them. The sight of a diplomat and a redheaded woman with four glowing gold tentacles protruding from her back wasn’t exactly something to be trifled with.

    “It’s here Ma’am, just up these steps and in that bui-b-bui...ah…”

    Amari had been focused on trying to unlock the cube, so focused on running her fingers along its ridges and indented lines that she hadn’t exactly been paying attention to the world around her. It wasn’t until she heard the low rumbling voice of the senator that she looked up.

    “Excellent work Miss Red. Not only have you worked your way into the enemy's ranks, but you deliver me Terrence Edim on a silver platter. Ah, and the artifact. Lovely. So lovely.” He clapped his hands together as he made his way down the steps. “Or should I say, Baroness Red?” He asked.

    The visage of the senator, adorned in plush, red velvet robes was a shock to Amari. “Fordstein? The hell are you doing here?”

    He continued down the steps, “Normally, I don’t bother myself with the dirty work, that’s what I hire people like you for. However, word of Terrence Edim and his.... Betrayal moved me just so.” Fordstein pulled out a gun, Amari had no idea what sort it was, but the barrel was long, and its handle seemed to be made out of a polished wood.

    Edim’s eyes widened, he turned to Amari, “You fuckin’ tratoirous bi-” He choked on his words. The loud bang echoed in the empty streets around them. The man coughed up a mouthful of blood, his hands gripped at his chest as he staggered forward before collapsing.

    “What the actual FUCK Fordstein!?” Amari snapped, bringing her attention to the man who now held the gun toward her. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea what is going on?”

    “Sure I do, Miss Red. I’ve won. As we speak feline forces are destroying the Akashiman army.”

    “Yeh.” Amari added, storming up the steps, the golden tentacles fading from view as they flickered out of existence. “And there’s also a big fuckin’ tidal wave heading toward us and if I don’t unlock this!” She shook the cube in his face, “In there!” She pointed toward the temple behind him. “Then we’re all dead, you’d be the Baron of nothing. So move the fuck out of my way.”

    Fordstein pressed the gun into Amari’s chest as she tried to shove past. It was still hot to the touch from the last fire, and the scent of gunpowder prickled Amari’s nose. “Oh? What proof do you have, are you going to betray me too? Is that wise, Miss Red?”

    Amari didn’t have the time for this, but she also didn’t have the time to be shot point blank, Storm didn’t know how to revive her, and if she were shot… Fordstein would just run off with the artifact and they’d all drown. “Look, you can have your stupid trinket after we deal with this tidal wave. You want your proof?” Amari pointed toward the shoreline, a large wave approached the shoreline. “THATS your proof.”

    Fordstein glanced in the general direction and shrugged. “Please. Do not treat me for a fool Miss Red. That’s nothing more than a trick of the light.” He pulled back the trigger. Now. The artifact.” He held out his palm expectantly.

    “You want it?” Amari rose it high over her head and slammed it into his nose. “There! Now fuckin’ have it!” She heard a snap and her face was splattered with blood as the man crumpled down with a broken nose. Amari bought the cube down again on his head, knocking him out cold. “Dumbass.” She muttered as she wiped her face and stepped over him, heading into the large stone cut temple.

  2. #12
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    The small army that resided atop the wall didn’t have to wait long for the arrival of the oncoming forces. The light crowned over the north facing hillside to mark dawn, just as a row of forty blue coated, silver furred cat-soldiers wide surfaced as a singular front. On either end, drummers beat a steady thump-thump-thump tone, each beat matching perfectly with the fall of each feline warrior’s right shoe. It was eerie, a row of rifles positioned over the right shoulder. Despite the absurdity of their soft, almost downy fur, they were automatons, dispensable pawns performing the task needed to secure ultimate victory over all of Corone.

    Following the first row, four more lines in rapid succession. The first battalion was nearly two hundred guns strong. The numbers were horrific.

    “Shit, even more than I thought. At least they’re coming in waves. They march slow, but these sons of bitches can FLY. No time for diplomacy, rain hell on them.” The words of wisdom Storm shared were quickly adopted by Thompson, who signalled the wall to fire a barrage of oil-dipped flaming shots from their strategic position behind the parapets. Like fireflies, the arrows soared, turned, and dove, finding purchase all about the cats, who burned well as the air released the odor of burning hair and flesh. Unfazed, the first battalion dropped to a knee and poised their bayonets, returning fire in an explosive barrage that loosed stone from mortar and softening the protective wall, a stray pellet here or there dropping two or three archers from their protected position. Another awesome wave of arrows lit the skies, culling the herd substantially as the brave protectors of Corone fought to save the world.

    “If you’re who you say you are, then work some of that magic, soldier!” Thompson spat again, the thick bulb on his cheek dancing as he laughed in the face of war. The wizard wouldn’t make them wait.

    Got it; they’re too far still for the lightning…

    One iron-rich slab of stone had crumbled near the electromancer, he could sense it’s ferrous nature and hefted the small handful of rock. With a pulse, he split the rock in twain, his eyes fixed on the drummers.

    “Cut the f*cking music!” In rapid succession, the two small stones were fired from his hand at a terrible, ballistic pace, twisting in their path before exploding in the chest of the two unsuspecting drummers. A second battalion appeared, as the first decimated set of soldiers, (now under a hundred deep) charged the wall. Arrows softened their numbers further, but a new volley of several hundred shots from the second battalion decimated the wall. This blast of stone and pellets proved far more effective, as men fell by the dozens. Blood coated the walkway as Storm and Thompson gritted their teeth. The grizzled veteran pulled an archer’s gear from a fallen soldier, firing off two shots in rapid succession. Smoothly, the old man spun about his foot as a fresh barrage of shots rocked the wall, sending many parapets down and killing dozens more. The first battalion was almost upon them, as archers from the wall fired more futile flaming projectiles into the second batch of catmen.

    “Time for the big show, kid.”

    On cue, Storm Veritas pivoted from behind his posted wall, rapidly facing the oncoming horde of attackers who had gained impossible ground. His eyes whitened and hair blew straight back as an awful torrent of lightning exploded from his hands. As it left his palms in twisted, arcing white fury, the bolt split and fragmented, finding purchase on the metals before him; breastplates, belts, helmets and rifles. No less than a dozen of the ferocious furry monstrosities froze and twisted, their metallic carrying amplifying his power. Nostrils flared, Storm held the pulse an extra three seconds, violence and energy emanating off him in a blue white aura. When it finished, he fell just as the now heavily-charred cats fell, limp and lifeless upon the wall. From his spot he was safe from fire, but not the residual cats, still leaping forward and scaling the walls with protracted claws.

    “Coming up! Son of a bitch, cover fire! Cover fire!” Thompson took the cue bravely, pulling a long, straight edged blade as he spun in front of the fallen wizard. Like a mother bear before a cub, he squatted in waiting, lips curled back before snarling teeth as the menacing sixty-something poised himself for hell.

    Another volley of arrows, now some targeting the feline warriors upon them, and this one far less effective. The numbers of archers had been thinned horribly. The first batch of howling cat-people vaulted up from the wall in an awful wave. They engaged and began to dominate the soldiers, as the second battalion, still at least eighty strong, waited patiently for quiet to begin their respective assault. The catmen were winning, in all but one decisive battle.

    Despite his age, Captain Alexander Thompson was spry, strong, and impossibly lethal. Hopping back and forth with his blade, he summarily dispatched two of the catmen in moments, driving first his knife across the open throat of the first hissing cat and then driving the same blade behind the jawbone of the second. Angrily, he hip-tossed the body, smiling as he caught a peek of the body clipping a climbing soldier as it fell lifeless from the wall. The third cat man was too fast, and swung his knife down at the exposed neck of the incredible soldier.

    No…

    With a wave of his hand, Storm had arisen in the nick of time, redirecting the knife. It scratched the Captain, but found a true home in the chest of the shocked and confused walking enemy. With his fur-wrapped paw still curled around the blade which was buried deep in his own chest, the confused cat toppled dead over the wounded but marveled frame of Captain Thompson.

    “Welcome back.” He backpedaled to Storm, who rose to a knee and remained there to whisper.

    “We have to fall back. Protect the Temple… Am’aleh. That’s the target. Need to move.”

    A deep sigh overcame the Captain, who eyed his men, fighting nobly and without despair. The battle was lost, but the war could still be won, and he intended on winning it. With a quick motion of tactics to a few archers, the experienced old hero hoisted the magician up and motioned to the stairs. The remaining few soldiers would hold the fort for long enough to buy a few moments; the remaining few would be honored as heroes of men.

  3. #13
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    Amari Ciel L'Olfsden
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    The inside of the temple was what you would expect; high marbled walls, pillars, and the still air of reverence. What differed was the centre of the place, there were steps that lead up into a pool of water, it was these steps that Amari found herself climbing. “Alright..” She muttered, wiping the rest of the blood on the cube onto her clothes. “Let’s try to get this thing to work.”

    <”Don’t you dare defile my holy temple and it’ssss watersss with your dirty form. Ssstrip your clothessss ignorant child.”>

    “Excuse me?” Amari snapped back. She could only take a guess that she was hearing the Thayne Am’Aleh in her head. “Who the fuck do you think you are demanding ME to strip?”

    The voice bellowed, and practically rumbled around her, giving her an instant headache. Most people were smart enough not to pick a fight with a god. Not Amari.

    <”You think I care about your human form? Ssstrip, place on the ceremonial vessstments if you mussst, but do not defile my watersss with your bloodied clothesss.” To unlock the abilitiessss of my artifact you mussst-”>

    “Submerge it in water?” Amari asked, not meaning to interrupt, but it seemed painstakingly obvious. She heard no reply, so could only assume she was right. Amari didn’t like the idea of stripping (especially in the middle of a war) but, it certainly beat drowning. Reluctantly, she stripped herself of her clothes and waded into the shimmering pool till she found herself at waist height.

    There was something incredibly serene about it, the rays of the moon shone through the large arch shaped windows and danced upon the waters surface. Whatever turmoil that was happening outside was non existent here. Despite the chill in the air, the water held an unnatural warmth that clung to her naked form, soaking into her skin and the core of her being. “Ok, this is nice. You win, Am’Aleh.”

    Amari took a few deep breaths, feeling calmer now than she had ever before, was this what it was like to make a connection with a Thayne? She could almost get used to it. Again, with nothing more than a thought, the four tentacles slowly rose from her body, aglow in golden light. They pressed to each side of the cube, with Amari’s fingers delicately tracing the ridges of it.

    <”That’ss better.”> Am’Aleh seemed pleased, as Amari ran her fingers over the cube it grew warm in her hands. She could hear various clicks as she gently ran a finger down another ridge. Whatever she was doing, was working.

    If I am having this much success just standing in the water, what if I were to submerge both myself and the cube?” With the thought Amari took a deep breath and plunged underneath the water. The cube began to glow bright and white. It’s sides began to easily twist and click, and with a burst of bubbles the cube opened up to reveal an inner cube.

    <”You’re sssmmaarter than I gave you credit for, human. Perhappsss you would desserve to walk with my bestowed grace.”>

    There was a blinding white flash, Amari lifted her head out of the water, shielding her eyes and taking long deep breaths of air. As the light faded a very odd visage stood before her.

    A humanoid figure stood before her, his scaled chest a shimmering blue and gold. His head looked like a lizard, with large ridges over pale blue slitted eyes, forked snout and flared nostrils. His hands were clawed, and his lower half curved down into the water like a mermaids tail. His fins, golden, flared and danced around him in the soft currents of the water.

    “Uhm…”

    “Am’Aleh.” The Thayne corrected. His mouth did not move but it was clearly emitting from his form.

    “R-right…” Amari wasn’t sure how to react. A freaking god just appeared before her, a weird lizard fish one at that. To say that Amari was speechless was an understatement, if she werne’t so afraid of defiling the holy waters of the literal immortal being in front of her, she would have no doubt pissed herself. She shook her head, and held the glowing artifact out to him. “I uh...tidal wave...saving…”

    His head moved as though he were laughing, and she could hear the low rumble of his amusement. “Yess, but, Amari, I am the Thayne of the sssea, and of the oncoming Sssstorm. You’ve only unlocked part of my artifact.” He reached out with a clawed hand and pointed to the doorway behind her. “Your foolish friend may aid in the ressst, if he is worthy of my grace.”

    “What?” Amari furrowed her brows. “Countless lives are going to be lost! Entire towns, because you’re too high and mighty to just fuckin’ stop that wave now!?” She took another step toward the Thayne, reverence be damned. “Are those lives really worth some sort of petty worship?”

    “Not many would sssstand up to a Thayne, I care not for those who do not worsship me. You, however, interessst me.” He held his arms out wide as if to embrace Amari. “Accept my boon, and hail me asssssss your divine, pray and worssship me, and I may adhere to your requesst, I will offer you my boon and guidance.”

    Oh yes, hug a vengeful god of the sea, what could possibly go wrong?

  4. #14
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    Stumbling ahead with Thompson, it was only a few steps before Storm’s fatigue wore off, as the battle waged above and behind him. Cracks, clangs, howls, groans, and gunshots filled the air as he joined the heroic old man descending the stairs, breaking into a run to build distance between them and the catmen. The cats as a group moved slowly, but alone in a sprint, even the spectacular speed of the wizard would struggle to hold pace.

    “Come on, kid, we gotta haul ass. Temple is at the north side of town, work up Main Street and move, move, move!” The energy of the old man was incredible, a fire in his eyes and a sharp bite in his words.

    Within a few stretching strides, Storm was bounding past the older man, who for his incredible skill was still bound by the confines of mortality. The white-haired warrior waved for Storm to charge ahead, however the wizard had another idea. Veritas distanced himself by a hundred feet or so when he cornered hard, leaving the elder statesmen confused and angry. Behind him, the first of the cat people had landed at town level, immediately identifying the leader and gesturing to him.

    BOOM! Clip-hop!

    In an explosive kick, Attila, the mighty black beast blasted through the front door of the stable stall with such force that the saloon-style door was knocked clear from the hinges. Smiling, the rider gestured over, slapping the thick muscled rump of the shining warhorse as he spoke.

    “Let’s go old man! Get the f*cking lead out!”

    In a few strides, the Captain had caught up, vaulting nimbly up with the assist of a single handed pull from the electromancer. He landed and clasped around the waist of the adventurer, a single word all that was needed.

    “Shiiiit…”

    Before their path, to the north loomed a massive growing wave, towering high above the horizon and dwarfing the height of the local residences, buildings, and centralized temple structure. Rolling upon itself, the ungodly wall of water continued to slowly climb, as if waiting for its fatal drive forward. Both men were temporarily aghast, even Attila bucking back and kicking forward its front legs in abject defiance. No… the great beast appeared to communicate. Hell no…

    With a glance over his shoulder, the lightning mage noticed the cat people, now moving forward at a steady jog. With a strong heel, Veritas kicked Attila forward, headlong into the apocalypse. “No time to wait around. The Temple of Am’aleh holds an artifact we found. We have been told it can stop that wave. The cat people are here to stop it.”

    “Just ride…” The old cadet pulled a small pistol from his hip, an open-ended, blunderbuss looking contraption. He squeezed his thighs around Attila with desperation as he poured the fillings of a small pouch within it. Moments later, he held onto the leather Storm wore as he turned back to the invaders, firing a wild shot into the crowd. A wild, spraying shot, it slowed the approach as he nearly fell from the great horse.

    “Nice shooting, old man. Don’t fall off; can’t have you break a hip on me.” A smile about the face of the wizard was ceased immediately with a squeeze from the soldier, whose hand on his shoulder closed with bone-crushing force. Even as allies, he was not one to trifle with. Beneath them, Attila rode hard and furiously upon the street, driving with incredible speed for several minutes.

    The hill leading to the temple was easy enough to scale, however the lack of resistance was unsettling. The door to the pristine, gleaming white temple was wide open, as guards had long since run from the sacred grounds. Apparently they had seen the wave coming, and felt some obligation to run.

    Hope those f*cking cowards trip up in front of the cats on their way out. Buy us a few minutes to save the goddamned world and all.

    The wave looming ever higher, the mighty grey-bearded soldier wavered, just noticing blood seeping from his shoulder wound.

    “It’s too late; that thing will destroy the whole goddamned continent. Am’aleh save us.” His normal gruff tone had fallen to a modest whisper.

    That’s the idea, old man. That’s the idea.

    The empty marble was intimidating as the horse burst in, his hooves echoing interminably about the flat faced edifice. Seconds were critical; the invaders were closing from the south while the great cleansing armageddon built up above the northern shore. The dual adventurers dismounted, with Storm screaming for his allies once more.

    “RED!!! EDIM!!! We’ve got company!!”

  5. #15
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    Amari Ciel L'Olfsden
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    As Amari stepped toward the visage of Am’Aleh, attempting to embrace him, he faded from view. She felt a flood of overwhelming energy course through her, and a warmth settled in her chest. <”I’ll alwayssss be with you now, Amari. Let’sss try to get used to each other shall we?”> His voice rang in her head, and Amari was suddenly unsure if what she did was right or not. Amari wasn’t devout, and certainly wasn’t one for praying… the only praying she did in her entire life was in the throes of ecstasy.


    Then, just as if on cue; Storm burst into the temple atop his horse, and with him an older man she did not recognise. Amari turned with the partially activated artifact in her hand, as nude as the day she was born. She still seemed slightly dazed from her run in with Am’Aleh. “W-what? Storm?” Amari waded through the water and set the artifact down on the edge of the pool as she hefted herself out of the waters. Seeing the vestments, thin white robes to the side Amari picked one up and wrapped it around her form, it did little to hide her features, but it was better than nothing.

    “Red.” Storm breathed, his eyes glancing up and down her form. “Did you and Edim have fun without me?” He managed to joke.

    Amari wore a look of pained regret. “Terrence Edim died. Shot by Fordstein. Fordstein is now out cold, I’m surprised you didn’t catch them on the steps.” Amari shook her head, her voice strangely calm and passive. “Listen. Storm, I need you to finish opening the artifact. I can’t seem to do it.”

    Storm pushed himself off the horse, “Leave it to me. You go outside with Thompson and hold off the rest of those damned cats. Use those waving tentacles of yours and fuck some shit up.”

    As Amari passed him she placed a hand on his shoulder, slowly perking up again. “Don’t I always?!”

    She turned her gaze to Thompson who gave her an incredulous look. “Are you...capable?” He asked.

    “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” Amari said as she pushed past him, waves of red erupting from her back as she prepared to fight the oncoming wave of felines.

  6. #16
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    It was sad to see Edim down; for all his terrible characteristics the pudgy little man was kindhearted and well intended. He wasn’t made for this world, but then perhaps this world was ending. Perhaps sympathy was useless in the hour of Days’ End. Moving forward to the altar, the wizard was awed by the achievement of the girl he had so consistently underestimated. She was nude when he saw her, quickly gathering herself. There would be time for these investigations later, hopefully. For now, his focus was on the artifact.

    Holy shit, how did she do this!?

    The cube was barely recognizable as Storm observed it glowing and white, humming upon the tabernacle before him. The inner workings of the artifact were a maze; he had tried to open it with his electromagnetic ability in the Jagged Mountains and not seen a fraction of the success the seductive tentacled sexpot had managed. The enigma of Amari continued to grow within him.

    Open the magic artifact. Hope it somehow stops the wave to end all waves. Save the world. Why did I spit out that chew?

    There was a certain poise achieved within the unfathomable stress. Perhaps the final smile crept across his face as he wasted a moment to consider where the tobacco leaves had gone. Had he swallowed it in the battle? Thrown it away in the chase? The absurdity of the question stealing his concentration was so incredible that it offered him a layer of calmness. He would solve this, or he wouldn’t. It was that simple.

    Alright, you whore. Show me what you’ve got under the skirt. Open up.

    He had raised the cube only a few inches from its resting place upon the cold, ivory colored stone, the white light emanating showing none of the inner workings of the device. Tumblers spun effortlessly, pins popped back and forth, small mechanical workings jostled about. He tried to envision what he was moving; were the internal mechanics like a watch? A bomb?

    ”Your effortsss are uselessss, human. The artifact is for Am’aleh.”

    The voice of the great Thayne was loud, omnipresent, and nowhere at once. Was it in his head? Where did it come from? For a moment, Storm paused, his instinct to disregard the madness. Looking about at the towering pillars about him, thinking of the death about to wash him away, and his friends outside, he gave himself to the moment.

    Too late in the game for crazy. No room for coincidences now. The gods maybe are more than bullshit and bedtime stories. Have a better plan?

    “Very well, Am’aleh. I give myself to you. For myself, for the people of Akashima and Radasanth. For the beautiful women of Concordia, and the innocent children wandering Whitevale. We ALL pray to you. We beg to you. For today, forever, we submit.”

    Standing and speaking to his own apparent insanity, the exhausted traveler looked about for some signal.

    Okay, I tried my hand at crazy. Now what?!

    The artifact.


    Raising the glowing, humming cube above his head, Storm knelt by the altar and lowered his eyes. If Am’aleh could read his mind, perhaps the god would sense the cynic who had no other choice. If Am’aleh sought worship, he had been well met.

    ”You are but a sssad ssssinner, Storm Veritass..

    “You are the unworthy, undeserved of my grace…

    “My grace extends itsss hand for the people of Corone…

    “The holy… The pure…

    “The worthy…”

    In a moment, the entire room was filled with blinding white light. The clangs of swords outside and churning sound of driving water ceased for a moment in the sound of a vacuum drawing all energy from the world. There was no sight, no smell, no sound, as the electromancer glanced around and looked for anything, any sign of life, movement, or confirmation of his death. If there was an afterlife, some higher plane, he certainly wouldn’t belong there.

    “Click-bang!” The door to the temple opened, light entering into the bright white room, which quickly became dark without the loss of existing light. Impossibly, Storm Veritas saw the frame of Amari entering, but had no words to explain what had just happened. His normally steely eyes were open and hapless, seeking some explanation from the heroine before him.

    CRRR---BAAAAANNNG!!!

    The wave hit the temple, shaking it, dust and stone falling from the ceiling as the walls pulsed and cracks ran down the edges of the perimeter. A great gushing sound overwhelmed the three on all sides, water rushing by the temple at very high speed. Stone groaned in pain, fighting not to yield to the great wave which hit upon them. After a few moments, the sounds settled. Amari, Storm, and Attila, looked to each other with disbelief. Armageddon was avoided.

    ---EPILOGUE---

    Her eyes told the whole story, a combination of relief and forlorn. It was exhaustion. That she was able to reenter the building meant countless had died. Storm merely looked to her, a simple word his only question.

    “Thompson?” Slim hope wavered against logic for him.

    The temptress simply shook her head, looking to the stone floor. A deep breath; Alexander Thompson had touched them all.

    “A hero. A man amongst men. I can’t tell you the type of fight he had.

    “Fordstein tried to claw his way in behind me. He came out to try to stab me in the back and failed. A fitting end for a coward. I could hear his pleas at the door. Honestly, it’s a rare time I can say I enjoyed killing someone.” She crossed her arms before her poorly covered chest, the scant clothing apparently enough to fight off whatever was out there.

    “The wave folded on itself, but it was still very powerful. Yanbo Harbor, along with the Akashimian navy has fallen.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, too exhausted to discern between pride in saving Corone and sorrow for losing the northern city.

    Shit. Save the f*cking continent, and left a wake of dead innocents in our wake. No survivors to tell the story. Shit.

    The horse bucked it’s head, unaware of the magnitude of everything about him. Today would not weigh on Attila for years to come. Attila would not lament the loss of Akashima. Attila would not wake in the night, envisioning the thousands of bodies floating in the now hip-deep water of Akashima, already rapidly receding as it poured through a seam in the temple door. Attila would not see the lost face of Captain Alexander Thompson to sour every happy moment for the rest of his days.

    Attila was the lucky one.
    Last edited by Storm Veritas; 03-31-17 at 07:02 AM.

  7. #17
    Administrator
    EXP: 81,363, Level: 12
    Level completed: 34%, EXP required for next level: 8,637
    Level completed: 34%,
    EXP required for next level: 8,637

    AP
    42
    GP
    535
    Max Dirks's Avatar

    Name
    Max Dirks
    Age
    24
    Race
    Human
    Gender
    Male
    Hair Color
    Black
    Eye Color
    Green
    Job
    Illicit Entrepreneur

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    Team 4 Judgment

    Story – 5 (This was a fun ticking clock thread. I could tell you two enjoyed writing with each other. That said, there was little that stood out in the story. Amari’s wound, while realistic, essentially wasted several posts, it had no long-term effect. I half expected Ameleh to decline to offer her grace because of the gunshot. I was disappointed that was not the case. The climax was rushed, and somewhat confusing. Indeed, by the way Storm wrote it, I thought he had failed.
    Setting – 7 (This was one of your better categories. From the forest to the inn, from the field to the temple, you provided just enough information to allow the reader to draw his own setting in his minds. )
    Pacing – 6 (Your thread was fast paced, as it should be with a ticking tock theme, but due to a number of run on sentences, the writing did not establish the sense of urgency the characters were likely experiencing. In addition, the subplots with Amari’s injury, and Captain Thompson also were sharp departures from the action. Frankly, you killed Edim, you didn’t need Thompson (except perhaps to offer a yin to Storm’s yang, as Storm is basically the male version of Amari).
    Persona – 5 (I felt Amari’s betrayal of Fordstein was forced, especially given she was his lead agent in round one. While I’m happy she was not a trope this round, her narcissism and sadistic mannerisms were simply gone. I felt like Storm was just along for the ride. This was never more apparent than when he listed off his list of accomplishments to gain access to Akashima. There was a personal touch with the mutual respect for Thompson, but aside from their mutual love of tobacco, he was an uninteresting NPC.
    Action – 6 (This was an action-packed thread. Some action (Amari getting shot) was unnecessary. Other action was unclear (like Storm’s conclusion). On the whole, this was good. I did have a problem with the characterization of Edim. By citing to Team B’s thread in the tournament story (even though they did not win), it became partial canon. Edim was previously characterized as a capable warrior and friend. You made him a porky pig diplomat. I’m sorry, but as the writing became canon, I took off a point for continuity.
    Dialogue – 7 (Easily your best category. The banter between Amari and Storm was hilarious. It was like listening to two self-absorbed extroverts prattle, and I loved it. Though I took off points for continuity, I enjoyed the interactions between Amari and imbecile Edim as well.
    Mechanics – 6 (One of the weaker areas. There were several spelling errors, misplaced commas, improperly used semi-colons and usage errors. This does not include clear stylistic writing choices (i.e. fragments to create urgency, alliterations, etc.)
    Technique – 6 (A mixed bag here. Good use of fragments, alliterations, and colloquialisms, but except for a red herring & the ticking clock plot, there were few plot techniques.
    Clarity – 6 (Another weak area. Unfortunately, your character colloquialisms poured into your prose, and several of the actions were very hard to read at the pace you intended. Misuse of commas and semi-colons also completely broke the flow of the writing.
    Wildcard – 10 (All elements met)

    Total- 64/100

    Mari receives 1015 EXP and 89 GP
    Storm Veritas receives 1706 EXP and 102 GP
    Althanas Operations Administrator

    Dirks GP amount: 2949

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