Round One, Bracket A: Sasurai vs. Destined Intervention

[Christoph]

Congratulations for making it into the Tournament of Champions. Both teams receive two Fate Points for making it this far! Posting can begin at 1 PM EST on the 7th and the battle closes at 11:59 PM EST on January 28th. Good luck to both teams!

Arenas were arranged at random, and your prompt is as follows:

You will battle on a series of small-scale naval ships within a massive flooded colosseum. The crowds are roaring for blood.

[Wings of Endymion]

She opened her eyes to the baying of the crowd, her name chanted repeatedly upon the whispers of the light wind. The salty smell of the sea stung her nose, but beneath it lay something altogether more pungent. Anticipation, Ingwe would have called it. Fear, Thomas would have said.

Thoughts of her two closest friends from her Academy days helped to settle her nerves. Yuka gripped the curved staff tightly to her chest, savouring the motion of her little ship as it bobbed gently from side to side. The young woman maintained her balance lightly, holding herself with both poise and grace. She closed her eyes once more, reaching deep inside to that reservoir of peace and calm that would be essential for unleashing her powers.

What was the mantra that Ingwe had always repeated to himself again?

Focus… and control…

She inhaled deeply one last time, holding the breath within her lungs as if to cleanse them of their impurity. The breeze ruffled the folds of her loose tunic, streaming through her hair and sending her deep blue cloak billowing out behind her. When at last her exhalation came, she opened her eyes again, and the otherworldly scene greeted her anew.

Almost like they recreated Chi Bi in a box, she thought to herself as she looked around once more. The massive granite walls of the colosseum loomed high and forbidding around her, dwarfing the small boats clustered together like a makeshift landmass upon the flooded floor within. It was testament to the sheer scale of the arena that there was actually a wind to blow within. The ships themselves were of indeterminate style and origin to her eyes, certainly not of overwhelmingly Nipponese design. Simply built, with planked open decks, single masts and low sides, their prows jutting forth menacingly so as to literally cut through the waves they rode. Sails furled and oars shipped, for the moment the assembled craft rested benign and tranquil, but Yuka knew just about enough of sea journeys to realise how quickly this could change.

Her nameless, faceless contact had told her that the only way free of this dimensional pocket was to play the game by their rules. To go back, you must go forward, they had said. She had been suspicious, wary, as she might well be. But nothing she had seen or heard had contradicted their assurances of safety and well-being.

At least, not yet.

The caveat had been the thinly veiled promise of power. Through us, you will discover within you strength that you have never experienced before, they had said. And if it was the one thing she needed to escape the vengeful clutches of her former family, it was strength. Were their words too good to be true?

Probably…

And yet here she found herself, awaiting the appearance of her opponents in this grand amphitheatre, readying for battle. The Seven Tenets of Spellcasting raced through her mind, along with a host of other tips and tricks she had picked up from her student days. She even went over, one by one, the handful of times she had actually cast her spells in anger, reminding herself of the feel of the arcane under her command such that she would not be caught off guard again. Her fingers tightened upon the smooth grain of her staff, assured and determined.

She breathed deeply again, once more purging her slender frame of nerves and attempting to block out the off-putting noise of the crowd. After all, they were irrelevant to what was to come, were they not? She turned her gaze to the skies, clear if lightly sprinkled with harmless cloud. The high walls of the colosseum made them seem so far away… so out of reach.

At least I’m not alone, was the comforting thought that came to mind, and with that Yuka turned to the neighbouring ship and gave her new wyrmfolk companion an affable wave. She’d become fast friends with Lask after the awkwardness of their initial encounter, to the point where when she’d been told that she needed a companion for the tournament, the choice had been obvious. Thankfully, he had not declined. For better or for worse, they were now in this together.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

The fact they’d flooded an entire coliseum for this match and managed to make the water stay in its place was a feat of great ingenuity. The impressive walls too, were pretty damn fantastic. The boats? So-so, but easy to create once destroyed by the look of things. They held his weight, and against the baying of the crowd – a lot of them crying out for Yuka and probably not to cheer her on, by the sound of some of those comments – Lask frowned worriedly at the world in general.

All the grandeur and pomp of this battle and this ceremony was lost on him. This reminded him of home, and the only thing he needed right now was his mother screaming at him to stop playing with the man-children and come inside now and help her make dinner.

Nostalgia aside, he ran his talons thoughtfully across his chin-growths, running through the checklist in his mind again - everything was secure on his person? Check. weapons checked for any stresses that might shatter? Check. He arched his back, twisted this way and that, and looped his tail over itself as the little boat bobbed beneath his curious contortions.

Yep. Everything sitting nicely. Check.

Question is, who are we up against? Didn’t catch their names… There hadn’t been enough time to check out the statistics of everyone so…

Oh. She was waving at him. He waved back. Poor thing looked nervous. Why? It was just a fight right? Right? Although this had been the idea of a wizard, and most of his experiences with wizards tended to be rather…well…troublesome.

Never mind. Yuka will do her best. I in turn will do whatever I can, against whatever it is we’re facing. With that in mind he unsheathed his sword and squatted on the rolling deck with his tail in a neat circle around him, chin in hand to wait and body poised to spring.

[Nieve.Roja]

Wow. Ships. Not exactly an orthodox setting, now is it?

The roaring of the crowd almost seemed synched with the motion of the ship on the waves. This wasn't exactly what you'd call Emilio's natural environment. He could remember stories of great-grandfather De la Costa being a sailor or something, but nothing of that heritage had been passed on to him. A deck was simply moving ground to him, nothing more.

Still, Emilio enjoyed this start. Seeing as he's usually greeted by a gunbarrel in his face, an actual cheering crowd is a nice change in scenery. He managed to let off a smile, somewhat oblivious to the fact that they might not be cheering for him. Quickly scanning the area surrounding him, he noticed a lack of blue knight on his ship. His ship. It had a nice ring. Of course, Emilio had found out that archons are usually little more than floating shiny orbs, but seeing as they were about to do battle, it would be nice to actually have a tangible companion. After all, he would need more than just mental support.

As he looked around the colosseum, he felt a slight thirst, a request from his throat to be saturated with the nectar of the gods, known to most as beer. The shouting and yelling of the crowd were somewhat similar to the usual customers in the average tavern, just louder. His encounter with Archon in the tavern had been a while ago now, and a few... strange... events had taken place since then, but that was in fact the last beer he had consumed. Strangely enough, his concern wasn't if he would ever have another drink at a bar, but when. He was confident, almost certain, he would make it out of here. Either without any change or traveling the 'new path' Archon ahd promised him, but he would live to see the days after this tournament, and possibly even grow old and frail. The thought made him chuckle. For the moment, however, his attention was directed elsewhere.

On another one of the ships, two figures were standing, observing their surroundings much like he was doing moments before. He wasn't sure if they had seen him, but he could see them, and that was what mattered. A girl holding some kind of staff, definitely not unattractive, and a... words escaped him, not by shock, but by awe of sorts. The best he could do to describe him was a dragon, but not your classical, children's-story dragon. This one almost looked like it was human. Special indeed. Remembering he was supposed to beat them, he wondered what was keeping Archon. The possibility that he was already present had not escaped him, but tiny flying balls are usually hard to spot, and the restless crowd was not helping.

Slowly, he donned his gloves, whispering to himself. "Come on, come on, Archon, I wanna get started..."

[SoulBeaver]

Out of all ships that sat adrift in this flooded arena, Archon's ship seemed the most egregious. Better said, it should have been, but not even crowd seemed to notice such a diminutive boat. Even more to the point, his 'ship' did not deserve the prestigious title of 'ship'. The rickety boat did not even possess a rower!

Archon kept reflecting back to the events that lead up to this- it only happened because the crew had a problem with his incessant questioning about whether or not their lustful night-lives kept them from becoming better men! Or whether constant mention of booty as a double entendre simply disguised the fact that they were old, wasted men. Such sinners!

It came as a great relief to both Archon and the rest of the ship's crew that they did not have to work together at all. They just had to find a valid excuse for him not needing a large ship and crew. The answer to which both Archon and the captain found in his inherent ability to fly. Perhaps the judge in charge found an even greater relief in the fact that he ruled correctly and none of the sailors showed him the harshness of the sea with a few good punches to the face. Actually, he might have feared the mad ravings of Archon a little more than punches.

In any case, both Archon and the captain eventually agreed that even a beaten boat still required manpower. The point at which someone from the crew agreed to work willingly for Archon should have given him enough reason for doubt, but his hope for mankind betrayed his good senses. Much less, then, should it have surprised him when a note latched between two paddles in his boat read, “Sorry, I forgot my whore at the inn.” Such sinners!

At least the ability of flight remained as loyal as ever, and off over the big blue he flew. Two things remained left to be done before he could meet up with Emilio to devise a fool- and waterproof strategy. However, Emilio should have heard the reassuring, “I'll be there soon.” comment breezing through his mind with an emphasis put on soon. First, he had to verify the dreaded wickedness of his two opponents. It would utterly disgrace Archon if he fought and perhaps killed two followers of holy design as well as give his deity a bad reputation and the crowd even more reason to enjoy violence rather than peaceful interaction with one another.

The first boat, the simplest of the three, carried a complacent crew and a contemplative woman. Archon took an extremely great risk by traveling there in his purest form since these people did, unfortunately, count as the most dire of enemies. Therefore, he hovered just outside of the ship near the lady. Her beauty did not strike him- he found it impossible. Too many things had corrupted this sense, and he suddenly felt the burden of a world heaved onto him. Not quite corporeal, but more a realization that he irreversibly lost certain pieces of his soul to the fight against the very thing that kept robbing these pieces from him. Would she attempt to do the same?

Tentatively, Archon edged closer to the edge of the ship and placidly introduced himself through flashes behind her eyes, “Greetings, young female. Please, do not feel surprised by my voice as I also hope that I am not too disturbing of your thoughts.”

Indecisiveness grabbed him as he felt that his sky-blue glow would easily be spotted, but he could not determine where to run to at this point in time. Instead, he hastened his words considerably, “Before I fight you, I must know this: Do you bring darkness near the ever-burning light? Do you smash all that is good in effigy, in reality, or otherwise? Do you wish me harm for the sake of harm, or why? Understand that I will have difficulty fighting you if you bear goodness in your heart. Also know that I will never again speak to you like this again if you advocate that which I seek to repel and enlighten.”

[Wings of Endymion]

She paused as the voice infiltrated her mind, her reaction one of surprise and concern but not complete shock. After all, such power lay within the scope of her abilities as well. The young woman’s magically attuned senses were quick to locate the source of the power, a bluish glow that hovered just off the port bow.

So at least one of our opponents is a spellcaster, Yuka noted to herself, careful not to phrase her thoughts in such a way that the haze could detect them. As her senses automatically probed the light, she came to another conclusion. Not to mention non-humanoid… this could get tricky.

She listened as the haze queried her, not making any sudden movements that would possibly damage their fragile rapport. In return, she extended her conscious such that she was blindingly aware of every fraction of her immediate surroundings, from the waft of a loose strand of dark hair at the whim of the breeze, to the rhythmic tap of Lask’s tail upon the wooden deck of his craft as he awaited his foes. It went without saying that she suspected a trap.

When the being finished speaking, Yuka allowed a moment of pause, as if thinking of a suitable response.

“Hi,” she began, again choosing her words carefully. The young woman disliked riddles, questions phrased awkwardly purely for the sake of being awkward. She could never understand why the elders of her profession seemed always to talk in such a circumspect manner.

The general gist was whether or not she was evil, right? In which case…

“I wish you no harm, sir,” she continued, her voice gentle and her features relaxed and friendly. It was only a moment, however, before they both hardened. “But to go forward, I must fight you. So please forgive me if I do not share your hesitation.”

She had resigned herself to her fate long ago. Yuka was not fond of battle, but she did what she had to do to survive, and to give herself a better chance of survival in the long run. She needed the power that the Cabal offered.

“… I wish you well,” she concluded, before dismissing the telepathic connection with a small hand gesture, closing her mind off to further intrusion.

A deep breath, wondering if she had done the right thing. Briefly she toyed with the idea of a war of words rather than one of swords… and then realised that the crowd would probably not take kindly to such an anticlimax. Not to mention she was unsure of how the Cabal would react to such unorthodox tactics. Acceptance clouded her features, and she concentrated on the task at hand.

Lask, Yuka whispered into her companion’s mind, indicating faintly with a pulse of thought the orb that floated alongside her ship. She had done this before, so hopefully the wyrmfolk warrior would not mind the sudden infringement. Please stay close to me, and keep an eye on the light. I’m going to try something… big.

She gave him the telepathic equivalent of a smile, and then bowed to her other opponent, riding his ship on the opposite side of the arena. It was her equivalent of a starting gong or a champion’s challenge, a signal for commencement of hostilities.

Yuka Kanamai released her staff such that it floated before her in midair, between her open palms. Slowly she began to meld the mana around her, shaping it to her needs in one of the most potent spells she knew. Never show your hand at the beginning of a battle, the book of common sense stated, but she was not likely to get a better chance at this.

Power coalesced between her hands, and she began to chant.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Well. This was new. Lask stared thoughtfully at the two ahead of him – well, one, was that blue-thingie a living thing or just a collection of lights? He’d never seen anything like that before – but the human covered in chains with the guns was something else entirely.

He smiled. It wasn’t an evil smile, or a superior smile, or anything of the like – it was just a humorous grin. Okay, cloud of light could be hard to work with and put down, but that was possibly Yuka-

I smell ozone. Magic being used. Not hers. It’s talking to her? That would mean it’s going to fight with Mister Debonair over there… His thoughts trailed off. His grin became wider. Said human was a hit with the ladies if those girls weaving their way down to the front of the seats and standing in the aisles were anything to go by.

Lask? He snorted softly, amused at the tentativeness in her tone. She was going to have to harden up if she was to be taken seriously as a spell-caster. He was a minion for crying out loud! Privacy was not something that could be afforded! Knowing she couldn’t hear him at all, he merely listened. Please stay close to me, and keep an eye on the light. I’m going to try something…big.

“Brilliant!” He announced to the world, and stood up as the gong sounded with a widening grin of this is going to be so damn fun. The first attack was a smoke-bomb, hurled in the direction of Emilio to throw off the first few shots, (because, quite frankly, the poor guy was the only one with a physical body right now on the team) which was followed by a running leap off his boat to the closest to him. A moving target was harder to hit – something Lask had learned the hard way – and harder still when sight was obscured.

Well, if the little bomb worked. But he was optimistic he’d get to Yuka in time regardless.

The little construction dipped and swayed in his landing, but years of work on the docks and ships had honed his sea-legs to a work of art. It took a moment for him to leap again and make his way towards Yuka as she began to chant. He switched hands with the sword to shield himself as he moved from any oncoming projectiles – even from the crowd come to think of it, hoping his landing wouldn’t disturb her when he finally reached Yuka’s side-

Don’t think about that now. Protect her. That’s your job, fool. The voice and wording sounded eerily like his travelling partner, but he knew it was his training talking.

He landed, nostrils flaring as he spun to face their opponents, ears straining for that little upward note all magic-users seemed to do just as their spell was let off, his massive body blocking her slight frame from view. Hopefully not her aim however. Or this fight was going to be short, bloody and rather pathetic.

Eep.

[Nieve.Roja]

And this was the reason Emilio preferred working by himself.

A breeze seemed to rush through his mind, whispers on the wind, a message left in his mind. The moment of serenity it carried found itself replaced with anger as he understood the message Archon had sent him.

"Soon? Soon?! Soon isn't soon enough! We're in a fight here, dammit! Start fighting!", he shouted to nobody in particular. That small floating piece of crap was probably out there hitting on that wizard girl. Celibacy, my ass...

Speaking about the wizard girl, she was in the process of doing something especially odd. Her staff levitated between her hands. Now, of course, Emilio isn't a textbook expert on sorcery and magic, but when a girl has a rod hovering between her palms, she's either doing a very good job, or she's about to do some serious damage. Reluctantly, he took one of his pistols in his left hand, the leather of his glove protecting his hand from the M1911A1's cold steel. He hesitated slightly as he aligned the gun; though this was still a tournament, and his objective was still to eliminate both opponents, a cold-blooded decision like this remained a difficult task for him. As much as he might have argued with himself, though, the actions of the other team member soon required all of his attention.

This is, again, a perfect example of why being outnumbered is a bitch like that.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and it was fast. Before he managed to realign himself, the other half of Team Sasurai, the one Emilio previously recognized as the dragon-lad, had already landed on one of the little boats. What's more, he had thrown something at him. His eyes widened as he realized it was a grenade just a tad too late; it exploded in mid-air, spreading a thick cloud of smoke, effectively eliminating any line of sight he had. Emilio cursed as he covered his mouth and closed his eyes, blindly stumbling around, trying to find a way out of the smoke. From what he recalled moments before, the starboard side was a few feet in front of him. Memories of his more active tavern-going nights surfaced as he stretched his other arm out, trying to find something to hold on to. Soon enough, he heard the clang of the steel from his handgun contact the starboard railing. Now it was just a case of following it out.

As he moved forward, the sting in his lungs caused by the smoky air subsided, and he quickly scanned around for his target. Apparently it was a fast little bugger; he had already retreated and was now standing in front of the sorceress, as if trying to protect her. Even now, he still didn't carry lethal intentions towards her, but the reptilian was a different matter entirely. In a single movement, he leveled his gun and fired two rounds aimed at the lizard's torso, instinctively catching the cartridges with an elegant sweep of his hand. It would seem, however, that staying at such a long range would not do him any good. He'd have to come in close to really bring the pain, though it wasn't a viable option for now, considering the amount of exposure it would take to cross the distance. All that was left was hope Archon could provide a decent distraction.

[SoulBeaver]

A spark singed the water's amoebous skin, and it curled away under Archon's uncontrolled spasms of excess power. Usually contained, now unleashed because of a stubborn refusal to accept that which his opponent had just voiced as truth. Instead, the lever inside his mind had placed her just opposite of what she may have encompassed, and Archon would never speak to her like before again.

It remained the first of the final tasks to do- transform. What, he could not yet say; hardly speak at all for that matter. The hopes carried inside his fickle sphere all drowned as pitifully much like the ability to voice himself with reason and sense. A servant of the Deity would have always given aid to a predicament! To say that one 'must' fight just argues that they have a sickening lust for it, and those people must not remain alive! Archon failed to empathize, a virtue his Deity more than once tried to imbue him with.

Instead, broiling emotions steered his flight well over the ship and towards the top of the mast. Archon declared his decision, “Very well!” came the bombastic boom through everybody's minds, and even Emilio in the distance must have heard his enraged mind-voice, “If you 'must' fight me, then I will make sure that you do not survive this, despicable woman! You are a pitiful liar, and I have seen through your feeble facade that you tried to fool me with! Not you, nor the ignorant reptile will return out of these waters with a heart still beating!”

Sparks all over the blue sphere ripped outwards and most of them spiraled down the mast. The blue glow turned into a pseudo-fire that painted the tip of the mast pearl; they engulfed him, devoured his minuscule epicenter until nothing at all remained. Then it grew, multiplied and merged with itself until the blue fire had the size of a bull with an equal amount of ferocity expressed by lashing the air and sails like if the fire had claws and fangs. The sails, too, turned pearl wherever the fire managed to rip across, but they remained otherwise completely intact. Furthermore, the pseudo-fire had yet to adhere to any sense of form, and remained an intangible lump of energy that awaited instructions from the Nucleus.

“Emilio!” Archon urgently called out, “I'm going to grab their attention! Send them to where they belong!” One hoped that the message reached his companion and that he did not remain too far away.

Nevertheless, Archon wanted to grab their attention so that Emilio would undoubtedly recognize a good shot. At least the reptile should have stirred at his remarks and actions. Doubts about catching the woman throwing off her spell lingered like the smash of a hammer against a wooden door, and he did not feel that this diversion would affect her casting. Meanwhile, what the crowd thought as they saw his transformation did not concern him, and chose to willfully ignore the crew members that hopefully remained cautiously complacent.

Barring all thoughts about the thoughts and eventual actions of others, Archon, in his fiery form, descended down the mast with haste. In seconds the fire smashed against the wooden planks that instantly burned pearl as well. It seemed even more violent now as streaks of fire reached out to lash anything it could touch. Soon a ten foot vicinity around the fire had thousands of white scratch marks.

Finally, his transformation ended in a surge of the fire reaching towards the heaven and obscuring Archon for one last second before the gaseous substances in the air subsided and revealed his newest form- a beautiful water weird. Rhythmic waves rippled across his female body, and the natural blue glow diffused stunningly through it Tips of his now bodily long, silky blue hair danced in and out of the material state, becoming hair and part of his body all at once. At the base of his new body the water coagulated to avoid losing his form and feature on the ship.

The weird stood at roughly five and a half feet and bore extremely slender features to the point that one had to worry about touching her. Very frail, but her offset eyes could have blown a simple mind away, and Archon felt that power. Gazes around the ship seemed to pierce the wood in twain, but, sadly, he could afford to dwell on such things. Instead, chosen schools of Enervation and Rune Magic seemed far more important to dwell on, and he quickly gained their prowess upon wishing it so.

The weird focused her enthralling eyes on the reptile and the back of the woman while bearing mixed features of beauty and a failure to emulate emotions of anger. Failed emotions of anger heightened by her frighteningly soothing voice that she used against them, “I have foretold you the consequences of your actions. Endure them now.”

[Wings of Endymion]

Small note regarding the delay; Archon requested some time to read over the above post and edit it, which was duly granted. I waited for Archon's confirmation before posting this.

Also, all character interaction between Yuka and Lask, in all posts past, present, and future, has been pre-approved between their respective writers. I didn't think it needed to be clarified, but just in case... ^^

The being’s voice threatened to flood her senses, so she squeezed her eyes shut and narrowed her focus. The outside world faded to a vague corona contrasted with the burning heat inside her mind, the intensified roar of the crowd and the faintest breath of breeze on her forehead mere pinpricks upon the boundaries of her own private world. The whistle of something tearing through the air by her ears, the chime of metal on metal and a distinctly draconic grunt of pain and agitation; these she could force herself to overlook. The words that forced their way through her defences, however, almost threw her concentration completely.

She held it, barely, but not before something deep inside instinctively cried a response.

You find it so easy to see things in black and white! echoed the powerless scream. But when you dangle by a single thread over the darkest of abyssal morasses, nothing can stop the shadows from touching you, from tempting you… The small voice shuddered, and Yuka nearly shuddered along with it. That, in a nutshell, had been why she had chosen exile to the underdark from the Academy. She dared not have stayed longer for fear of falling further. She dared not have risked the innocence of her friends as well.

Ingwe…

Somehow, she beat back the terror, compelling herself to focus upon the soothing cool of the waters she controlled. Potent and dynamic her power developed between her palms, slowly taking form about the guiding strength of her staff. She ignored the growing storm about her, ignored the violent lashing at her robes as her cloak was just about torn from her shoulders. Yuka ignored everything but the magic she was nurturing to strength, until she could ignore it no longer.

Not the most powerful…

If she had both the time and the will, she could have technically made the spell even more potent. But what was the difference between a ten-foot and a twelve-foot tidal wave, anyways?

… but this will do.

She didn’t want to destroy the entire arena, after all. Or to drown the spectators sitting so merrily in their front row seats. No, this was about right.

“Suishoha!”

The magic swelled, crested, exploded. Yuka reached down with her mind to the waters below and pulled with all her might. A towering wall of sea blue erupted astern of her little boat, before a thrust of her hands sent it soaring towards the opposite side of the arena.

The deck upon which she stood rocked mightily as the sudden artificial flow of water upset its balance. Other ships around and about her also quivered in the deluge, at the fickle mercy of that most capricious of elements. Those to her fore were even less fortunate, and she hoped that her opponent had the presence of mind to hang on. Her objective was to delay him, after all. Not drown him.

In the meantime, however, the previously shapeless being had taken form in the shape of a water elemental, and Yuka’s senses were almost suffocated by the scarily seductive effects of its magic. They reacted in a sickly combination of helplessness and revulsion that Yuka had to forcibly restrain herself from letting show. She was reminded of a particular breed of Haidian daemonette, who would prey upon men weak of mind by tempting them with their deepest desires, only to devour them whole as soon as they were sated.

But it would take more than such petty cantrips to cause her to flinch.

“Don’t you dare lecture me,” she replied in a near-growl, pirouetting neatly on one foot as her cloak billowed gracefully behind her. “I don’t know what kind of god you think you are to judge me…” Her left hand whipped out to snatch her levitating staff from the sky, holding it at arm’s length; her right traced a straight line from the wood to her chest, mimicking the action of drawing a bowstring. By the time she faced Archon once more, a shimmering arrow of the purest white had formed in its wake.

“… but I don’t expect you to understand what the rest of us have to go through.”

What knowledge she had of shape-shifters stemmed from the denizens of her homeland, and those could not be killed unless in their natural form. Thus she might have been forgiven her lack of hesitation as she sought to disrupt the enthrallment.

Her dark eyes smouldered a rare fire as she released, and the arrow flew straight and true towards the nymph’s eyes.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

I've said it in pms, I'm saying it here, I'm the one at fault for the bomb thing because as I was writing I was working off an old draft of Lask's weapons. I couldn't edit it by the time I realized, so it's being amended now. Hopefully this will not bother people.




Over the white-hot pain in his shoulder and his aching side, Lask was dimly aware that words were being spoken. Archon who sounded very, very annoyed. Lask got the general gist of it; but he’d knocked over a few temples - inhabited and un-inhabited - before final exams while still studying. It was pretty much all the same, the only issue was that he’d been left out of the first conversation so the whole rant sounded, to his outer ear at least, pretty damn odd. The threats at least he was used to, but they didn’t mention him by name or were very imaginative which made it more of an afterthought than an actual desire.

So, while his conscious mind was processing all of this, his subconscious was trying to get his attention. It was more important than the ache in his ankles from the hard landing, or the horrible oozy-wet feeling having been shot.

Smoke

It was very much more important than the swirling of magic behind him and the fact his sword arm wasn’t as strong as it was a few minutes ago. It was-

Smoke. That was a smoke bomb.

- definitely more important than the boats, and the people and the -

I don’t carry smoke bombs!

His eyes widened to the soundtrack of Yuka’s melodious cry of “Suishoha!” At his waist, vibrating most insistently, were eleven bombs that were not his handiwork at all, soaking up the ambient magic like sponges and about to tear him in two.

Reeking of ozone, the air was rent apart as the magic took hold and created a pretty damn good wave right then and there in the arena to overturn the other boats. It took a moment to adjust, to dig his talons in and try and steady himself as he tried to gather his wits together as-

“Bugger.”

Another ‘spell’ was cast, this time from Archon’s direction. Yuka, holding yet more secrets as she weathered the rocking from the after-effects of her wave (girl never said she knew boats, she does it so well.) responded with something just as god-like as the conversation before. Only this time, there really was flaming torches.

Which were actually flaming boats, but they were on fire and that was what mattered.

But at this point Lask was not looking at this amazing light show of transformative magic and seductive beauty. He did not notice Yuka gracefully side-step him and spin that arrow out of thin air. No, this meaty lizard’s attention was taken up entirely by straps and buckles, wisps of energy flowing in the wake of his movements and his wounded arm – the throwing one no less – was not so good at this moment in time.

“Ooooarrrrrrshit!” He finally cried out, as buckles came loose, and he could toss the damn thing over hand at the still water behind them both. Maybe Yuka noticed, maybe she didn’t, but the crowd took great interest at this hurled strap of leather, and then lost interest when it decided to explode.

That bloody Nirvana! Masters of Chaos – god or otherwise if he believed her crazy story - should not be allowed to become so inebriated they can no longer control their natural field of power, it just wasn’t on. But, you know, celebrations at all. How was he supposed to know the stupid cow would mess with his equipment? Bloody hell!

So the belt flew in a splendidly crappy arc, only to explode in a spectacular fashion. The smoke remained the same, stinking and oddly thick, but this time, as it spread, it changed. As the crowd tried to get away, the leading edge of the spreading cloud and it’s rain of oddly shaped ash transformed itself into a myriad of emerald green butterflies. The center however became a light rain of miniature custard tarts (with a few reports of lemon ones as well, but that was blamed on the butterflies), which in turn lead to a rather amusing patter of splatting over those that weren’t quick enough to open their mouths for a free feed.

Lask, at this point in time, was trying to scrape his jaw off the bottom of the boat. He was also quietly thankful he had hurled it away from his opponents, because he wasn’t sure how they would have taken being covered in custard like that. Although it would be rather hilari-

Oh, hang on. He was fighting wasn’t he. Yes? Yes.

He spun around, hoping Yuka had left him at least one or two boats to get to the other side. Even if he had to row. He had one arm working properly and at tail, and he could flail like a mad thing if needs be. Hell, if he had to, he’d headbutt someone, he would. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

And that water nymph thing was too, but only because they were in a watery situation and it seemed like, you know, trouble. That and the allure effect was trying to kick in, except with the wrong species and while it did nudge the libido, common sense and generations of instinct rejected it as best it could. How the gunslinger was fairing was anyone's guess.

Enduring judgement, eh?

“Come over here and say it to our faces, you…you…” His flail of frustration was bad; his arm flared up again, making the poor creature cranky. “Just you try it!”

[Nieve.Roja]

"Oh, I'm in way too deep." He whispered the words to himself, trembling as Archon's rage passed through his mind. Their encounter in the tavern was nothing compared to the sheer sense of power that resounded through his words. Emilio simply thanked whatever deity Archon served for allowing them to join forces. It was the least he could do; he'd hate to be on the other team right now.

Then again, he had plenty to worry about himself. The girl who had been playing around with the rod was - as suspected - casting a spell, which was now coming into effect. A single word broke the silence before the storm. Suishoha! Before having a chance to ask himself what that even meant, he noticed a change. The surface of the water was no longer smooth and calm; it bulged and formed a wall, a colossal body of water, nearly twice as tall as he was. At least as fast as it was raised, it started moving away from the girl, gaining in speed with every passing second. It soon dawned upon Emilio that 'away from the girl' was in fact 'towards him', a thought he did not enjoy at all.

Sliding his legs apart, he tried to brace himself for the tidal wave approaching, thinking as fast as he could. Okay, big wave. Two options: stay here, hope the ship doesn't do a barrel roll, or... abandon ship. Oh man, I'm screwed. In the end, the choice was made for him; the deck seemed to lean backwards as the tsunami collided, vibrating through the entire structure. As if the force of the crash alone wasn't enough, the water flowed over the ship like a waterfall, dragging along everything in its path. Emilio, who was already thrown off-balance, was swept away like a ragdoll in the powerful current, cursing as he smacked face-first into the deck. In a feat of pure luck, his extended hand managed to hold on to the railing. As the wave passed underneath, the boat returned to a somewhat stationary position, yet with a lack of Emilio on the deck. Instead, the now-irate second half of Destined Intervention was dangling from the side of the ship, wet, pissed, and spouting every profanity that crossed his mind. This was definitely not what he'd signed up for.

As he dragged himself onto the ship, he rose to his feet and holstered his pistol, which had miraculously not been swept along in the torrent. With another loud curse, he ran his hand through his hair, trying to model it into something decent, watching his crowd and registering their every movement. It was painful trying to imagine what they thought of him after such a humiliation. However, the crowd was not focused on him at all.

Upon the mast of his opponents' ship, he saw a... words escaped him to describe the creature. A beautiful woman, shining in a blue glow. Her hair waved around in non-existent winds, shifting in and out of her naked body, seemingly composed of the same water flowing around her feet.

... wait, what?

Another good look at her body revealed that she was, indeed, displaying all her natural splendor. For a moment, he grinned as any man would upon witnessing Mother Nature's gift laid out in front of their eyes. Something was bothering him, though. That blue glow was familiar.

His worst fear was confirmed as a quick glance around the battlefield yielded no sign of Archon. One could practically see him connect the dots as he slowly whispered a curse, an expression of awe quickly turned into one of extreme agony. There was simply no way that could be him, or her. Hell, there was no way to tell with all this going on. Fueled by this newly-gained sexual frustration, he took a running leap off his ship and onto another one, nearly overshooting it in his anger.

"Archon, you little bastard... you just couldn't think of anything else but a naked chick?! If you're doing this on purpose, it's not funny!"

As he jumped from boat to boat, he managed to catch a glimpse of the sorceress readying some sort of arrow. In response, he once again drew one of his guns in his left hand. Sadly, it was already too late. Launching himself into the air one last time, he had finally reached their ship, gracefully bending through his knees to absorb the impact. As he looked up, the arrow had already left her fingers. Still in his landing pose, he raised his gun once more, searching his target. His finger gently caressed the trigger. Hesitation overtook him for a single moment. She didn't intend to kill him with that wave, it wasn't near the size it'd have to be for that. Might as well return the favor. He grit his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, aimed downwards and pulled the trigger. With a little luck, the bullet would hit her ankle. Then again, the odds of Lady Luck lending a hand twice over was pretty much non-existent.

I should have let go of those damn rails.

[SoulBeaver]

The arcane arrow tore off half the weird's face. What remained could not have been any more accurately described than lurid. A ghastly grin tore courage apart and made the heart of heroes fall silent. Even without eyes, the lips still remained locked in the opponent's direction. They chuckled, and parts of the crowd fell silent.

A hand reached up and felt for the plateau on her head, wary of that arrow grinding the mast behind her. Nothing. His hand felt nothing above the smile. To remedy this, the arm melted inside the remainder of the head and regrew the facial structures at a sickening pace. Within sparse seconds, a new pair of beguiling eyes pierced the air, and continued until the last lock of her liquid hair whipped through the stiff breeze.

The attack had surprised Archon; the metamorphosis of his transformation had left him unguarded. Therefore, his arm payed the price with only a stub at the elbow remaining. But never mind that, he told himself, never letting go of his enemies. The ship had swayed hard, but his new form proved excellently fit for the task of balance even when an arrow disfigured his face. Would it also prove fit for victory? He did not wait for time to tell.

His remaining right arm reached out, shone silvery green. The weird's legs, meanwhile, strode backwards and found comfort in the proximity of an angst-ridden sailor. Maybe the lizard, with his downright idiotic threat in the face of a glaring shot wound that more than happily leeched life from his body, might have no problems murdering the currently innocent, but the empathetic words of Yuka might prove beneficial. If she refused to harm the innocent around him, then he would use them to a certain advantage. He made sure that the sailor had his eyes closed. Innocent men did not have to see their untimely end creep near at the hands of the wicked.

A pearl-white circle, guided by the invisible hand of Archon's imperious mind, enclosed a five foot circular space. Upon completion, the area inside the circle bathed in an equally white light. Unfortunately, this spell led to the paralyzation of the hapless victim, and the one-armed weird quickly paced behind the shield. Never once had the weird stopped her otherworldly grinning.

Archon did not wait for their next action, releasing a second spell that sporadically snaked around the ship towards the lithe lizard. Why bother with a woman who might not attack in face of the innocent. Instead, this spell would target and cripple the lizard's legs, literally rotting away the muscles under the skin. Just a second decided the fate of the target's continued use of mobility for the rest of his life.

It definitely seemed possible to dodge the attack. The ray, green and slithery, would connect at the waist, and did not react to the opponent's movement. A single sidestep could save him, and his voiced threat might then gain importance. But no, Archon did not believe this possible.

[Wings of Endymion]

Shock. The flush of adrenaline-fuelled panic.

That wasn’t supposed to happen! Yuka screamed in her mind, letting slip a low gasp of horror at the sight of the disfigured weird. How was I to know that she… it… was so engorged on power that…

Pain. Red-hot, flaring pain.

Half an inch astray, and the fragment of metal would have shattered the bones of her right ankle. The bullet buried itself in the decking behind her, peppering the back of her legs with the splinters of its impact, but that was nothing compared to the blazing trail of torn tendons and flowing blood that it carved upon her foot. Her gasp morphed to a low moan that echoed hollowly about the rolling deck; the abrupt agony made her lose her balance, remnant waves of her previous spell dropping her to her knees.

Blurry, star-speckled vision cleared for a moment as she tried to focus on the battle. The gunman who had shot her was almost upon them now, smoke still wafting into the crisply shimmering air from the mouth of one of his weapons. But her arcane intuitions drew her attention back to the shapeshifter, its face now restored at the expense of an arm as it took shelter behind an unfortunate member of the crew. A young man, dark of hair and fair of face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut against fear. They had been instructed beforehand to stay low and out of sight, but obviously the advice had not taken into account the wilful use of them as human shields. Yuka’s blood began to boil at the injustice as she steadied herself to take action.

She recognised the runic pattern of entrapment magic about her foe, casting a pearly paranormal glow upon the well-worn deck that was quickly lost to the sunlit heavens. As the realisation hit her, however, a second spell rent reality as a carving knife through paper wall, flashing along the seams of the wood like some sentient emerald spark whose low hum of life registered faintly to her ears. Her arcane-tuned senses recognised this magic as one of sickening enfeeblement, leeching being the word that it brought to mind.

“Lask, watch out!” Yuka hollered at her friend, forcing the words past the constrictive blockade in her throat. She needn’t have worried, however, for the next sensation was of a heavy impact hurling her across the deck as Lask literally swept her out of the way of the spell, her slender frame proving no match for the wyrm’s controlled power.

Her head hammered awkwardly into solid timber, and desperately she bit down upon her voice, strangling the agonised cry that formed in her throat. One hand somehow remained clenched upon her staff, the sleek wood now warm and throbbing with the effects of the magic she had just woven. The other instinctively attempted to shield her face from whatever was going to happen next, until a more rational part of her mind kicked in and took control.

Blinding white fury and wanton desperation lent strength to her weakened limbs. Her first attempt at standing immediately told the young woman that her injured leg would not bear her weight any longer, but her mind was quick to overrule her fears. It was no matter; the distance was not great. She could crawl.

Her wound left a stream of splotchy crimson across the wooden planking as she practically hurled herself at the edge of the weird’s rune-circle. From what she could tell, its effect was some form of temporal paralysis, very similar to something that she herself could cast at a lower level. What would happen when two such spells came into contact with one another?

… only the Cabal could know for sure.

But at this point in time, with both Lask and herself badly injured, it was worth the gamble. Especially seeing the effect that one of her arrows, not known for their power, had had upon her opponent; perhaps she had it within her to salvage this situation. Yuka forced herself to remain oblivious to all that surrounded her; the sudden hush of the crowd, the gently subsiding rhythm of the boat beneath her arms and knees, the pungent scent of ozone as the salty breeze picked up the stench of magic.

The battle seemed so detached and otherworldly now, as if veiled behind a curtain of thick mists that only the strength of her will enabled her to penetrate. For a moment, Yuka wondered how one who professed to be so purely beneficent could ever be so callous as to take cover behind a non-combatant, or to cast such a malicious spell. Hypocrite, she decided as she brought herself within arm’s reach of the rune circle, feeling her head start to swim again with the pain and the effort of her exertions.

Somehow she managed to trace the appropriate rune upon her palm, her staff rolling away from her open hand to rest against the topsides of the ship not so far out of reach. It did not matter, though, for she needed it not to bring the spell to bear. Yuka cast the spidery calligraphy of the Sigil of Binding upon the caulked wooden planking, and the coruscating energies tore at her face as the two magics made contact.

When two opposing temporal forces connect…

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

There wasn’t time to think, but there was time to act. Hammered into him over and over again from working with mages told him what that hand wave was. Yuka was screaming, blood was everywhere, the gunslinger had made it to their boat – but that didn’t matter.

What mattered was the sickly green wave of death coming towards them. All of them. A spell like that does not take out one person, it splashes. The hindbrain kicked in. Disgust followed; and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he tumbled to the side, taking Yuka with him. Nieve was flicked (not hard - to move, not to injure was Lask's plan) out of the way and into the railing with his tail – bastard could have hurt his own man! And it wasn’t until he hit the deck that he realised Archon’s plan had worked – just not quite in the way it had been intended.

A warrior gets to know their body through training and use in battle, knowing it’s every twinge and ache, knowing what’s right and what’s wrong. The split second motion was all it took to make Lask’s tail ‘scream’ in the aftermath of the spell. Only practice stopped him from losing control, from giving into that primordial part of his brain and rampaging and destroying everything in sight. Common sense calmly kicked him into gear and as he peeled himself off the deck he pulled out the sword again and cut into the flesh, a hand’s width from the blackening scales. He cut until he felt bone. Then he scraped.

Maybe he screamed. Maybe he cried in that moment of eternity, but Lask was blind and deaf to everything - himself included - because all he could see was the tainted blood spilling down the trusty blade.

Where it dripped onto the wood, it hissed.

Yuka dropped out of existence. Emilio wasn’t even there. Archon could be off sipping Pina Coladas and talking to its God for all he cared. All that mattered was the cutting, and how easy it was with a blade as sharp as his.

The action took a lifetime. The action took a second. A wet slap later and the cancer continued to eat at the chunk of healthy flesh and scales that still bordered it on the deck of the ship. The veins surrounding the area seemed clean, except they were spurting blood at a fierce rate. He had a minute or so. Maybe more before his head started to spin and he'd need to lie down, elevate the area. Lots of blood. Ooh. Two minutes, tops. Then he could pass out. Bleed out maybe. Fuck.

Lask ripped at his tunic, tying it tight around the wound, then covered it again with his leather jerkin. It didn’t look heroic no matter how many times human heroes did this sort of thing.

Fuck this. Nirvana, if you really are a goddess, save me. Deliver me from harm. I don’t care how. I will massage your feet for a whole month, and even pay special attention to your scary pussy if you do what I ask! I mean it!

“Hold on.” He said hoarsely, glancing down at Yuka. Talons dug into the wood-work, and leaping to the side and hopefully out of the way of any kind of spell Yuka might have in her inventory. His arm felt loose. His tail felt wrong. He was leaving a trail.

I especially meant it about your cat, you crazy bitch!

The adrenaline was kicking in, and in the short few steps it took to approach the shimmering circle of magic, Lask had used his good arm to draw out his axe, the dehlar blade flashing in the eerie witchlight. He made the mistake of making eye contact just once with the meat-shield - the hostage’s eyes were rolling. Oh gods, he’d just been paid to be here. Not to become part of this messed up tournament. His decision was made.

And then Yuka’s spell hit.

He swung.

Angling the axe to hit the human with the akashima wood shaft – just to stun and fling away, not to kill – he tried to push the human out of actual danger. Whether it had any effect on Archon, Lask didn’t know. This fight was between the combatants – not the bystanders.

This is turning out to be a day when I should have stayed in bed...

[Nieve.Roja]

One's perception of good and evil was not cast in stone, but depended on one's point of view. It seemed like a good philosophy. People may call you evil, but they don't know what you're dealing with every day, they don't know the things you've lived through, they simply don't know you.

Yet somehow, Emilio's belief in this principle was tested. See, the latest turn of events convinced him there was some divine being above them all. Archon was the best proof you could ask for, a being sent by this deity to make them all repent for their sins. And yet, he doubted. He doubted that a being as elevated of status as Archon would be capable of doing this. For a moment, he even believed that Archon was simply stark raving mad; that grin as he regenerated his head - that's right, she blew his head off and he still lived. That creepy grin as he froze his hostage in place, much like he'd done to the patrons back in the tavern.

That incredibly insane grin as he attacked.

The sorceress called out for her partner, trying to warn him. Lask. His name is Lask. She was on her knees, a view he'd usually enjoy, were it not that it was his own bullet that caused her to go down in the first place. A slight tinge of guilt tore through his mind. Physically, he'd probably be stronger than her, taking away the need to just blatantly shoot her. As he pondered his course of action, he was soon reminded why he'd chosen to take a little distance.

The hard lash of a tail slammed into Emilio's chest. Before even realizing something had hit him, he smashed into the ship's railing like a ragdoll. His vision went blurry, and his handgun slipped from his hand. The steel clattered on the deck as his entire body numbed from the sheer impact. He'd smacked into the railing spine-first, and it was not a nice feeling. Not at all.

Lask unsheathed his blade, and in a swift motion, cut off a part of his tail. Emilio didn't see it happening; it was more of a witnessing. The information registered in his brain, but it didn't actively flow through his mind. Only after a few seconds of watching the movie that was his environment did he regain control over his body. Slowly but surely, the crowd's cheering started roaring in all it's primitive glory, and the wall of sound reached his ears again. He grit his teeth, trying to piece himself together little by little. The crowd wanted him to fight. The crowd wasn't cheering for him; they were cheering for the blood he might draw. If it were up to Emilio, not a single drop would be shed, but alas, fate has a way of playing tricks on you.

A quick survey of the battlefield. Archon was having his own little 'psychotic murderer' moment, he'd definitely be a distraction. Lask was, by now, throwing himself towards the hostage, swinging his axe at him. The witch was still down, but it seemed she wasn't out. She was drawing something on her hand. Wait... drawing... Her action was noticed just a moment too late; he threw himself forward in a futile attempt to stop her. Just two steps, perhaps. He merely managed to place two steps before he dropped flat on the deck. His legs were still failing him. The two spells connected, two different energies forced into one. Not good. Very not good.

The clash of energy swamped the circle Archon was standing in as flames erupted from it, almost beautifully coloured tongues of fire, circling and slithering around. They grew larger, fiercer, every color conceivable: it was almost like a carnaval attraction. He covered his head and closed his eyes, hoping the worst would fade away soon. Somehow, he feared for the others; they were a lot closer to the fire than he was. Nothing you can do now, man. Just sit this one out.

[Christoph]

Thank you for participating! Taskmienster will judge this battle within about a week’s time. Please do not contact your judge regarding the judgment until after it has been posted.

[Taskmienster]

Sasurai vs. Destined Intervention


Hey hey, welcome to the first round. I have judged your thread and have the scores below. But! Before you go shuffling through them, please let me have a small portion of your time. I would like to explain something first and foremost. The battle was an ok battle, nothing amazingly special, just ok. I’m not trying to insult you, but spur you to do better in the coming rounds (should you move on by way of win or by way of fate points). I have posted comments only on the scores that are either above or below a 5. They are brief, but can be expanded upon if you’d like. The scores are average, but I really felt that the performance and level of writing put in by either side was reflected well by the score. One thing that I would like to note above all is that both teams felt as if you were trying to force yourself to write 1-2 full pages on Word in order to post. It’s not necessary; you don’t have to do that. Post relevant aspects of the battle, actions and reactions, and maybe a little side stuff here and there to give it a little more flair. However, as much as was typed in this, it was simply far too long winded, with a ton of broken ideas or idea’s that were in no way necessary to the battle which destroyed the pacing for the most part.

Anyway, good luck in the future!

Sasurai

Wings of Endymion

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2.5/5
~ Setting ~ 6/10
~Good use of the water attack
~ Pacing ~ 7.5/15

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 5/10
~ Action~ 7.5/15
~ Persona ~ 3/10
~Got nothing about who you were or why you acted the way you did.

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 4/10
~ Mechanics ~ 8/10
~ Clarity ~ 7/10

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 53]


Schrodinger’s Nirvana

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2.5/5
~ Setting ~ 5/10
~ Pacing ~ 5.5/15
~11th post killed it, immensely. As well as quite a bit of added info that detracted from the battle throughout the posts.

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 4/10
~Odd, though inconsistent or not couldn’t be determined with lack of persona.
~ Action~ 6.5/15
~Certain things you did felt out of place, like you didn’t give the other team enough time to react. Tail cutting, for example, should have been done and stopped. Allowing the other team to do something other than just going straight to tearing the tunic.
~ Persona ~ 4/10
~None really explained, though I got a few different feels for the character from other sections, though a ‘few different’ means that it was inconsistent.

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 4/10
~Nearly no use of anything literarily advanced, and most of the writing felt like lower diction and somewhat childish at times.
~ Mechanics ~ 8/10
~ Clarity ~ 7/10

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 49]


Destined Intervention

Nieve.Roja

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2/5
Storyline of where SoulBeaver is and where you say he is were inconsistent, as well as who you were and where you came from.
~ Setting ~ 6/10
~Used the boats well
~ Pacing ~ 5/15
~Honestly… half of what was done was done in one post, such as jumping boat to boat, and too much for a person to do without retaliation.

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 6/10
~Stayed relatively consistent, though it wasn’t really explained why you spoke that way through your persona.
~ Action~ 7.5/15
~ Persona ~ 4/10

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 6/10
~Had some actually well written things in there that caught me, but not that many or any that were astoundingly significant to note.
~ Mechanics ~ 6/10
~Slipped into present tense, misspelled a word, another misspelling
~ Clarity ~ 7/10

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 52]

SoulBeaver

STORY

~ Continuity ~ 2.5/5
~ Setting ~ 5/10
~ Pacing ~ 4.5/15
~The transformation and attacks seemed slow and to take up a lot of time, but didn’t give the opponent enough time to react either.

CHARACTER

~ Dialogue ~ 7/10
~You did the best in dialogue, by far.
~ Action~ 7.5/15
~ Persona ~ 5/10
~ You jumped to anger within seconds, which made no sense…

WRITING STYLE

~ Technique ~ 7/10
~Definitely had the most technique present in the thread, but it was also used well.
~ Mechanics ~ 7/10
~Present tense use.
~ Clarity ~ 4/10
~First post was muddled and hard to follow… subsequent posts were nearly as difficult.

WILD CARD!!! 2.5/5

[Total: 52]



TOTAL

(51/100) (52/100)


Destined Intervention Wins


GAINS/REWARDS!

Nieve.Roja and Soul Beaver gain 500 exp and 100 gold

Schrodinger's Nirvana and Wings of Endymion gain 150 exp and 25 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!