Stress Relief (closed to The International)

[Libis]

Libis stretched his limber body, arching his back like a cat. Rising from the bed with the sheets wrapped around him, he stole to the chair upon which his clothes rested. Quietly, so as not to wake the sleeping woman on the bed, he slipped into his silken trousers. As he pulled on the ethereal shirt he heard a faint moan. Standing bolt upright, he hastily picked up his boots and stuffed the rest of his belongings into them. He rushed out of the open room door even as a groggy question floated through the air to him. Once in the tavern's bar, he ordered a glass of firewine to clear his head. He finished dressing and threw back the potent beverage, feeling the burning feeling flowing through his lips and throat.

Shaking his head, Libis exited the tavern, slinging his bow and hook over his back as he did so. His whole body was tense and his mind was also. He needed to unwind. To completely let go of the stresses of his predicament. He turned towards the Citadel's imposing figure on the skyline.
'Perfect.'
Starting through the twisting street, the city nearly empty around him, Libis felt the wind clear his head. The clatter of his boots on the cobbled streets as he dodged merchant's carts, the vituperations of the merchants echoing along the half-empty streets. Everything seemed crisper in the early morning. Spying a pretty elven woman manning a stall, he sidled up alongside her. Quickly grabbing her ass, he walked on, leaving her staring furiously around her.

As he approached the citadel the sheer scale of it struck him. Looking upwards towards the huge spire, he brushed his white hair out of his eyes. Stretching his arms and fiddling with the bowstring across his chest he made his way quickly up the carved stone steps. At the entrance an Aibrone monk took his name and weapon proficiencies, to match him with a suitable opponent.
'I'm just looking for a quick battle to work off the stresses of the night' He winked at the monk who seemingly ignored him. He followed the monk's wordless directions and made his way through a doorway to the chosen arena.

He stepped through the door and felt the crunch of sand beneath his leather-clad feet. The arena was a huge oval shape with raised sides. Above the sides were layers of benches lined with spectators. A cheer went up as he entered the arena. Chanting arose from the stands and he realized that they were almost as hungry for the bloodshed as he was. He cracked his neck and noted the layout of the arena. About ten feet from either end, huge wooden pillars stood. Presumably they were for tethering fighters too in some form of ghoulish sporting event. Libis cared little at this moment and eagerly awaited the arrival of his opponent. Several women were standing near the edge of the stands and he moved towards the arena wall, winking and calling to them. They were obviously enchanted by his flowing shirt and he enriched the effect with his sinuous movements. Leaning over the edge of the stalls, they each invited him to kiss them, which he did. With much gusto.

A second huge cry heralded the coming of his foe. He turned eagerly, unslinging his bow and nocking an arrow as he did so.

[The International]

Vespasian had taken flight down Radasanth’s central corridor. His feet were leather laden wings upon the brick walkway. Every few moments or so he would fail to properly navigate the light pedestrian current and thus would collide with someone. The young spy would stumble nearly to the extent of all fours, take a split second to collect himself, then take flight again with a new pound of guilt on his shoulders. Never did he collide with a fit young man like himself. No. That would make the god of organized chaos too kind. It was always an elderly man or woman who probably took five minutes to recover, or a small child whose face made contact with Vespasian’s knees. Vespasian would have stopped to help these people back to their feet, but he was on the run, and none of that would have happened had he not been so.

When being pursued run as little as possible and move as randomly as possible.

That was one of the rules of the espionage trade both Vespasian’s parents emphasized greatly. Until today he had never gone against that rule because he saw the logic behind it, and he only broke it today upon necessity. Running attracted attention. As everyone else simply stood or walked along the paths of their daily lives, they would stop observe the only man who chose to run along his. Their eyes and bodies honed in on his direction like hunting beagles, and allowed his pursuers to stay on his trail. However, his destination was close. It was the monolithic ziggurat known as the Citadel, and in this early morning hour it was a sight to behold, back lit by the rising sun and adorned with a halo of lavender and tangerine clouds. As beautiful as it was, Vespasian wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near the Citadel.

Stay the hell away from the Citadel. There is absolutely no better a demonstration of karma than this pyramid of veiled curses. Your future enemies train here.

Vespasian believed it. The majority of espionage work was sitting, waiting, meeting, and talking. It all required a highly focused level of finesse, but violence didn’t ensue as much as one may think. When it did it was a life or death situation, and it was usually against someone who frequented the Citadel arenas. To recognize them, or for them to recognize him, could mean a compromise of his elaborate cover and then he would absolutely have to kill them. Today he would intentionally break that rule for the sake of a critical mission. His calves seemed to burn as he climbed a seemingly endless flight of stairs, where a young woman with straight orchard hair and jade eyes stood in wait. It was his older sister, Ludivine Villeneuve. Less than twenty yards behind a handful of big burly men were hot on Vespasian’s trail.

The spy halted at his sister’s feet and sat on the highest step. He gave up. The pursuers kept their sprint up the flight of marble stairs closing in on Vespasian and his sister by the second. Suddenly the crowd around them formed a wall of swords and shields that stood between them and their targets. The pursuers froze. The city guard emerged from the trail of distraught civilians and apprehended the men, but procedure would call for them to question every participant in the conflict. That was why, when they peeled away the layers of Citadel fighters, the Vespasian siblings were nowhere to be seen.

Vespasian and Ludivine had already disappeared into the crowd of Citadel combatants. They emerged on the other side in a hasty trot down one of the compound’s many hallways, their boots echoing along the stone walls.

“How many of those guys did you bribe, Carla?” Vespasian asked without looking. He used a fake name as a tactic to deceive those who may have been listening as they passed.

“About thirty. All of whom know me by thirty different names.” Ludivine suppressed a laugh thinking about the mass confusion the city guard may have been caught in at the moment. “Just as well. We may not want to ever step foot in this town for the next three years once we get out… that’s your arena. Good luck, Alfonse.”

Vespasian stopped in front of a set of oaken double doors, behind which was a muffled hissing of many tones. That sound was familiar to him, and as he opened the doors they confirmed his fears. That hiss was the united voice of at least one hundred spectators. The marble floor became a soft sand canvas in which he could dig his boots. He would have to get this battle done quickly, and then get rid of his favorite clothing ensemble immediately after. He couldn’t have people pointing him out in the Citadel atrium by identifying his white cross shirt with sleeves that flowed like a falcon’s wings, or his black pants that snapped like snake upon each movement.

Vespasian’s opponent stood across the sandy ring from him, and fortunately for the young spy his opponent’s image was much more memorable than his own. He would have introduced himself. He would have waved to the crowd. He would have even bowed in honor, but he had to get out of here as quickly as possible, and that meant winning or loosing as quickly as possible. Vespasian began a determined strut towards his pink headed opponent as he drew his International Rapier. This needed to be quick.

[Libis]

Libis saw the tall, handosme man who had entered opposite him and lowered his arrow slightly. The man wasted no time in engaging and his sure, confident walk almost rivaled Libis' own. The man was wearing a flowing shirt that complimented his shape and loose black trousers that cracked in time to his steps. Although Libis could see that the man was in a hurry to fight, something about him exuded extravagance. Libis admired the image that this man portrayed: confident and stylish yet forgetable if he wished to be. There was a beauty to this fighter that Libis couldn't help but be drawn to.

Shaking his head to clear the lecherous thoughts, Libis drew the string on his bow back to full length. Tensing his arm muscles, he waited for the slim man to walk into range. Sighting down the shaft once again, he pointed the arrow at the man's chest. Years of practice had taught him that the head was rarely a realistic target - especially at his current skill level. Releasing the bolt, he felt the rush of air past his arm and the whisper of the cord snapping past his ear. He readied and fired two more arrows in quick succession before retreating towards the edge of the arena to gain a little more time to fire. His knife was ready for use and easily accessible for an emergency though, as he didn't know how quickly his slender opponent would close with him.

[The International]

How foolish of the young spy to act in such haste that he didn’t even notice his opponent’s weapon was a ranged one. The pink haired archer raised his bow, and the spy swordsman widened his eyes. Vespasian continued his intense strut, but turned so that he would head behind the closest wooden column. His eyes narrowed as he attempted to predict the trajectory of the arrow. There was no wind in this arena, so once the arrow was shot it would be fairly straight on.

The archer released his projectile, and Vespasian performed a simple but effective backward lunge. The arrow hissed by, and while his opponent was reloading he made a dead sprint for the closest wooden column and plastered his back to it. Seconds later two more arrows whistled by like toy flutes. Vespasian took one more second to figuratively kick himself in the ass one more time for allowing himself to omit his usual procedure. There was no need to rush the battle. Radasanthian law forbade the city guards to interrupt a Citadel battle, and in this particular case they didn’t even know who they were looking for. They were required to wait outside the arena or in the recovery rooms for those they apprehended. This was probably going to be the only time he could enjoy the Citadel so he might as well test his mettle.

Vespasian had to analyze the situation. His opponent was an archer. Most archers had a close ranged side arm of sorts such as a sword or knife, but if they were any good with the bow, they were sorely lacking in said side arm because they were used to keeping their enemy at a distance. Vespasian had to get close, and that meant making his move in between shots while the archer was reloading.

Vespasian’s first move was to get his opponent to shoot but not at him. He needed to distract the archer just as the archer’s hair distracted him. Perhaps his photokinesis could do well for him here. Vespasian looked to his left and focused his attention to a single point at head level five feet away from himself. A second later a flicker of light came about at that point five feet to the left of the column, where the archer could clearly see it. That was when Vespasian made a sprint for the pillar closest to the archer. That flicker of light was just that, a flicker of light and nothing more, but in this world of arcane and magic it could have been anything.

[Libis]

Libis watched the beautful movement of his opponent. As he had expected the flamboyant man had demonstrated his athletic prowess by dodging the flying arrow. As the man dived behind the pillar, Libis' two arrows embedded themselves in the sandy ground. A cheer emanated from crowd. Looking at the stash of arrows loosely tied to his waist, he quickly counted them: 17. Noting his opposite's tactics he ran full speed towards the other pillar, his legs moving smoothly across the soft ground, his shirt shimmering in the bright sunlight.

Glancing towards the stalls he saw the pretty girls he'd been flirting with before the battle. One, a black haired beauty of Raiaerian origin, was waving to him. He winked back and gestured to her to stop lest she revealed anything about his position. She giggled and returned to watching position. He sighed and returned to the moment at hand. Loading a single arrow, Libis leaned around the pillar and let fly towards the other's hiding place. As he did so a flare of light caught his attention. it dissipated as quickly as it had come but Lbis was on his guard now and drew his knife, slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

[The International]

The decoy worked although not in the way the spy expected. The archer had made his shot, but not as a reaction to the light. It seemed to be more out of tactical habit. He seemed to be the type that kept on shooting until he hit something. That’s why the arrow went in the direction of Vespasian’s former position. Had the archer been aware, he would have either shot at the spy or the light.

As Vespasian continued his sprint to the next pillar he saw the archer swing his bow over his back and draw his side arm, a simple knife. He had to take this opportunity by the reigns, so he kept going at the objection of his burning calves. That climb up the Citadel’s front flight of stairs was coming back to bite him on the ass. Once he got into range he would have to minimize leg movement for a moment or two, but only after he played a little dirty trick.

As he neared his opponent Vespasian didn’t slow down. Instead he increased his speed, digging his toes into the sand as he pressed on and ignored the pain. Once within a six foot range he brought his right foot in front of him and dug the inside edge of it into the arena sands, thus bringing him to a sliding stop in battle position. This in turn caused the sand to spray up… hopefully into the pink archer’s eyes.

[Libis]

Libis could hear his opponent's feet pounding across the compacted sand, almost in synch with his own hammering heart. He swung to face his adversary side-on. The adrenaline rush he felt as the man with the flowing clothes hurtled towards him was much akin to what he had felt when hunting beasts in his homeland's forests. This man was obviously no stranger to a fight but Libis had been a hunter for long enough to recognise injured prey when he saw it. Although the man exuded confidence, a slight off beat to his footfalls revealed that his legs were a weakness. The sudden spurt of speed threw his concentration for a second and he felt the grit spray towards him as he flinched. Below the top layer of sand, the floor was compacted and solid, so the wave that flowed over him was perhaps not as thick as his opponent had hoped.

Spitting sand from his mouth towards the other and trying to ignore the layer of grit that had plastered itself to the lower half of his face, Libis employed the skills of movement that years of dancing had taught him. Executing a tightly controlled spin, utilising the reduced grip of the sandy floor, he lowered himself into a crouch and drove the toe of his right boot towards the side of the flowing man's calf. In doing so he hoped to send the man to the floor. Should it fail however, the knife that was now hurtling towards the loosely clothed groin should take care of any worries. Again Libis noticed the supple smoothness of the man's form and almost regretted having to mar such a beautiful image. The thought of warm, red liquid spillling from those flapping trouser legs soon put paid to any hesitation though.

[The International]

Vespasian could understand why his opponent wore such a luminescent shirt, especially now as his right foot came out from under him, and the ground jumped up to meet him. It served as a distraction. Vespasian didn’t mean to just focus on his upper body, but subconsciously that’s what he did, and he paid the price as the ground gave him a firm pat on the back.

His eyes grew wide as he caught sight of the sweeping knife. Vespasian quickly reacted by turning his rapier perpendicular to the knife. His blade rang a high note of joviality as it made contact with another, which queued him to thrust up slightly in the direction of the warrior’s swing. The momentum of the thrust brought him to his knees.

[Libis]

Libis stumbled backwards, still in his crouched position. He had expected the black-haired man to ignore the knife which woud have passed above his head when he was lying on his back. As such he was off balance when the loosely clothed figure thrust his sword up and parried. The subsequent thrust and springing upwards of the man knocked him backwards and almost jarred the knife from his grip.

He landed unceremoniusly on his ass. The knife fell from his grip and landed point down in the sand. Bringing his knees under him and raising into a crouched position, he launched himself forward and grabbed the knife from the ground. His feet lost grip on the loose sand momentarily and he thought he would land flat on his face but he managed to recover the movement with some grace. Using the momentum of his jump, he brought the knife up in front of him and proceeded to dive towards his adversary. His body flowed through the air in perfect balance and his hair flew out behind him for the instant before impact. A huge cheer from the audience arose to the sinuous movements of his lithe body and he had to resist the temptation to wave.

[The International]

Vespasian’s amber eyes became wide with shock as he stumbled back. In his experience he had suffered minor cuts and a few blunt forces. This was far different. The hunter’s knife found its way into the spy’s torso just under his diaphragm. There was no pain, not at first. There was first a jump of the heart as if it were attempting to shake free of the ribcage. Only after that did the true pain come, for all of Vespasian’s body parts began to scream at him, loudest of all was his stomach.

It took Vespasian all his will not to echo his body’s cry of agony. Only a low pitched yelp of surprise escaped his mouth. The audience finished the rest for him, erupting in a cheer of bloodlust. He had to get himself together. This was a tough blow, but not an immediately fatal one. The International Rapier within the white knuckled grip of Vespasian’s right fist rose to kiss the sun and pull him up to his toes. It then dropped like a guillotine with a shadow draping across the magenta warriors upper back. Hopefully Vespasian would return the favor.

[Libis]

Libis felt his wrist crack. Even as he realized he had scored a crucial blow to his opponent's chest, the lithe figure was propelling itself back up taking the still embedded dagger with it. The knife wrenched free of his grip and remained in his adversary. Libis again felt himself plummeting forward and he skidded on his chest, grit filling his eyes and mouth. A gasp rose from the crowd as he hit the ground.

Silence washed across the stadium as he felt a stinging pain whip across his shoulder blades. Although he could feel no damage to the enchanted shirt, he felt an angry welt rise up where the blade had shot across his back. Tears sprung to the corners of eyes, brought by the sting. He could not wipe them and so, as he rolled sideways to avoid any further strokes, he found himself half-blinded and without a weapon. Like a rabbit in a snare he writhed sideways to escape. Unlike the rabbit, he had a last-ditch effort to help. He flicked his left boot upwards, hoping to propel the concealed dagger within towards his outstretched hand.

A rabbit he might be, but with the cunning of a fox. At least, he hoped so.

[The International]

Finally there was an inkling of success for the spy. His International Rapier's blade was wider and thicker than the average rapier blade, more so resembling that of a conventional sword so that he may easily thrust and cut. The model of his primary weapon became more useful here. If that had been a standard rapier there would have been no effect, but here he was creating a ridge of pain across the hunter's upper back. For a quick second he wondered if the scar of the cut would remain even after the monks healed his opponent. Perhaps this scar from his knife stab would remain. Everyone deserved a souvenir from the Citadel.

It was time to finish this. Vespasian raised his International Rapier to the sky once more, but this time it was the hilt of the sword that kissed the midday sun. The tip of his blade came down with a fury aiming somewhere... anywhere at the hunter's torso. Unfortunately for Vespasian, the tip of his blade didn't pierce the crust of a living cherry pie. It just dug into the golden crumbs of a sandy canvas. Then there came the increased pressure of the knife lodged just below his diaphragm, and his body screamed at him once more. The red wine of life now drenched the entire lower half of Vespasian's white shirt. His focus, both visual and mental were now fading.

His mind immediately began plotting out escape routes, most of which were futile. Had this been out in the real world he wouldn't have even made his way into a public arena with so few unguarded exits. However, by real world standards, he was in the middle of an escape route, which he needed to continue. Further combat was futile.

Vespasian dropped to his knees and let his sword fall out of his hands. “I'm done, hunter. You've gotten the best of me.” The audience reacted accordingly, some in cheer and others in disappointment, as the monks came out to assist the both of them. Three came to pick Vespasian up by the shoulders. “What's your name?”

[Libis]

Libis caught the dagger that had flown true to his hand. He rolled onto to his back before hauling himself to his feet, gasping at the pain in his shoulders and almost collapsing as a momentary memory lapse caused him to lean on his damaged wrist. Regaining some of his elegant poise he stood straight, his bow across his back.

He slipped the smaller knife back into his boot before answering his handsome adversary. A small smile played across his lips as he revealed his name to the man before him. Though he was severly injured, ruby droplets from his stomach glittering as they splashed the gritty floor, his opponent still held himself with the regal bearing that had propelled his gait when he first entered the arena.

In contrast to Libis' own playful demeanour, the spy's whole image remained discplined, from the steely look in the beautiful golden eyes to the rigid set of the shoulders. Even as Libis watched the man's flowing figure exit the arena supported by the guards, he sensed he could learn something from him. For all his flitting and seductive character, Libis felt that discipline could have its uses. From the hunter's lodge to the arenas of the citadel he knew the value, especially of patience. He determined that he should meet this man again and learn further of the man's austere ways.

When he felt enough strength to walk he headed for the opposite exit to the spy, not wishing to spoil his casual image with a collapse. Passing the stalls, where the applause had only just stopped, he allowed the monks to heal him of his injuries and return the knife which had been retrieved from te amber-eyed fighter's chest. Wiping the last remanants of sanguine liquid from the blade's edge he allowed a thin line of the cooling blood to run across his hands before licking it clean.

The taste reminded him of his more pressing requirements and he returned to the arena, where the last few women were finally leaving in a little knot. Vaulting up the barrier, he jogged across the stand toward them, slowing as he approached. His liquid shirt glimmered and his walk returned to full confidence as he wrapped two of them to his sides in an embrace they were unable - and unwilling - to resist...

[Taskmienster]

Apologies for the delay! I’ll be taking this thread. As requested, it will be full rubric and commentary. If either of you have any questions regarding what I make comments on in the judgment, or if you want further clarification, feel free to PM me or catch me on AIM (TheTaskmienster). If I quote anything it will be in the category it applies to followed by a number in brackets, which corresponds to the post that the quote came from.



Libis

Continuity 5
---In the first post you have a small mention of “stress relief” as the reason for why you are at the Citadel. It’s not an uncommon reason, but what makes it not the same reason as the next person is a little background in regards to why you are there. Reading through the first post twice, you have a little bit of what happened the night before… but not enough. I’d suggest remembering that when you open a story, it helps for the reader to understand what is going on if you explain it more. I’m not sure what about sleeping with the girl was stressful, or what was the stressful predicament that made you want to escape to the Citadel. Clarification on that helps with the continuity.

Continuity is also about what goals you have for this thread, how well you go about them, and whether you complete those goals in the end. Since this is a battle thread, there is always the goal of fighting and winning… but also a matter of building off the background and the reason for being in the Citadel comes into play. If you are here to hide from your issues, here to work on a specific training, or any other numbers of reasons for coming to the Citadel you can add that to the thread and help the continuity as well as the overall readers interest.

Setting 4
---Just a warning for future threads, an arena with a bunch of people, high walls, sand floors… it’s easily one of the most overused arena’s in all of Althanas history. I’d suggest that in the future you take your creativity and go with it. Great crowds and Roman-esque fighting is always a turn on to new writers, but it’s just overused.

Pacing 4
---When you write, you are trying to draw the attention of the reader and keep the attention. Put them on the edge of their seats, so to say. Short posts aren’t bad, necessarily, brevity has its place. But your posts after the opening one were the basic necessities of narrative, and nothing more. Each post is an opportunity to express writing talent, draw the attention of the reader, and expound upon the character (through personality and dialogue) as well as technique and setting.

Dialogue 4
---“'Perfect.'” [1]; “'I'm just looking for a quick battle to work off the stresses of the night'” [1] ~ Both of these are examples of the same thing I’m noting. When you write dialogue, make sure that you use full quotations instead of apostrophes when you are setting apart spoken word or internal dialogue. Also, at the end of the second quoted passage there should be a period.

Action 3 (reduced due to the borderline powergaming and godmoding issues)
---“Libis could hear his opponent's feet pounding across the compacted sand, almost in synch with his own hammering heart.” [7]~ How? How can you hear his footsteps when you are surrounded by a sea of people watching, chattering, cheering? Remember your setting and don’t contradict it, otherwise you undermine the world you created by things like this. In a way it’s powergaming, being able to hear the footsteps so that your character has the advantage despite the cacophony of the people surrounding the arena.

---“his man was obviously no stranger to a fight but Libis had been a hunter for long enough to recognise injured prey when he saw it.” [7] ~ This is another passage that caught me just like the one above. Unless you were a truly experience hunter, having fought countless times against all kinds of people, I don’t see how you would have [recognize]d (a spelling error in the passage) that your opponent was wounded. I don’t know of any hunter that’s ever gone after a deer and been able to tell that their calves are sore from running so much. This is an example of possible godmoding, knowing things that are more if not totally OOC instead of visible and understood through IC interaction. Perhaps, if you just gave more of a reason why you could tell he was hurt, that would help remove the question of godmoding, but as it stands this is borderline.

---The following passage, which regards why Libis saw what he did, is more bunnying than realistic reasoning. V never said anything about his steps being off, but you wrote that they weren’t perfect and that’s how you could tell. First and foremost, you are on an arena with a ground created of sand as was specified in the beginning. Your opponent’s footsteps would be muted, if heard at all, and would be a struggle no matter who it was. If you’ve ever tried to run in sand, you’d know that it’s hard… really hard, for any extended period of time. It is also very quiet.

Persona 5
---What about Libis makes him so desirable? I didn’t really get enough reason for it, either personality or appearance. Like I commented in V’s persona area, there is a lot of opportunity to take your writing to the next level by adding in more involving personality. You have the chance to take your dialogue and add to the persona, you have the chance to explain through actions and reactions how your character thinks and why he acts that way. Don’t forget that your character is as pivotal a part of the story that’s being told as the story itself, even in a battle which is almost purely action and reaction. Your character needs a personality… all I got from him throughout this entire thing was that you are more worried with making him desirable rather than a real person. It wasn’t explained but it was also something that made the entire character seem flat, boring. Try and think of why your character is the way he is, and then go from there.

Technique 4
---“He finished dressing and threw back the potent beverage, feeling the burning feeling flowing through his lips and throat.” [1] ~ This is more of a personal thing that I see quite often and note every time. It’s not just a personal thing though, I suppose, since I have been told quite a few times by English professors that I’m correct in the assumption. When you write, it’s best to make sure that you don’t repeat a word multiple times so close, especially as close as within the same sentence. You used “feeling” twice in the same clause, the second one probably not necessary anyway. I’d suggest using synonyms to avoid repeated use of a specific word within a paragraph in the future.

---Other than what’s above, remember that advanced technique can be used easily to create a better picture of the setting, help heighten the action, add to the persona, but more importantly create something more unique. When you create unique, interesting writing you in turn boost the pacing and draw the attention of the reader to keep reading and enjoy what’s being written.

Mechanics 7

---“he quickly counted them: 17.” [5] ~ When you write, it’s commonly a more correct way of writing to actually spell out numbers instead of giving the numerical equivalent. 17 should be seventeen.

---“it dissipated as quickly as it had come but Lbis was on his guard now and drew his knife, slinging his bow back over his shoulder.” [5] It should be capitalized and you spelt the characters name wrong. Remember to proof your writing before you post it, or even afterwards, so long as you make sure to catch spelling errors as well as grammatical errors. Also, the part that says “Libis was on his guard now” is a strange tense issue. “Was” is past tense, but “now” implies present tense. There are other ways to say what you meant, and easily able to remove the possibility of the tense disagreement.

Clarity 7
---When you write narratives, it’s important to remember to separate each paragraph and new line written so that they don’t get clumped together. If you keep them all together it makes it a little harder to read, which in turn detracts from the overall clarity.

---“the vituperations of the merchants echoing along the half-empty streets.” [1] ~ Vituperation is quite a word, though it stands out quite a bit. It’s different than the rest of the writing, a lot different. It’s a big word, it looks nice, but it doesn’t seem to be a common enough word to work. The rest of your writing is common words, with a few flowery ones here and there, but this word is out of place and for those that don’t know what it is… it’s just another big word. Remember; don’t just use the synonym feature of Word to find a big word unless you’d regularly use it.

---“Should it fail however, the knife that was now hurtling towards the loosely clothed groin should take care of any worries.” [7] ~ First, a knife being launched towards your opponent either during or within a split second of a kick while crouched would be difficult, if not impossible. Secondly, you again use “now” which is present tense.

Wild Card 5

Score: 48



The International

Continuity 6
---Your opening was a lot like your opponents, escaping from something, however you did it in a different way. You gave enough of a background for the reader to know that V was a spy, and part of a spy family. I got that the Citadel was like holy ground, in a way, and you did it very well. You also created something more, something that the reader could really get into when they started the thread. However, as I said with the goal of the thread in your opponents comments, there wasn’t much besides going to a fight. You started a goal that was to hide/escape, but you accomplished that within a few paragraphs.

Setting 5
---Though you were given a slow, boring setting to work with you could expound upon it by adding in more elements. Take the setting and build on the personality and continuity thing you had going on. How does he feel towards the crowd that’s watching overhead? Does he believe they’re real people or created people that the Ai’Bron supplied for the magically created arena? Things like that help pull the setting together in more than just a “describe where you’re fighting” sort of way.

Pacing 6
---Your pacing was fine, though it was lacking a bit in the full “draw the attention of the reader” aspect to a small degree. The action that you continued with post to post was well done, though the posts themselves didn’t have the flair that was enough to draw the attention consistently. As a reader, I wanted to continue based on the battle itself, but remember that those beautiful uses of advanced technique you started with can be continued through the thread. It’s an easy way to draw attention, while at the same time keeping the pacing of the story.

Dialogue 5
---Other than the very opening, there was almost nothing as far as dialogue went. I’d suggest if your character doesn’t speak aloud a lot, or at all, add in some internal monologue to make the story have a little more flair in order to keep up the interest, as well as add in a lot more to the persona.

Action 5
---The action and reactions made sense, and the flow of the battle was equally back and forth overall. I’d suggest adding more like I said above, advanced technique and dialogue helps to understand the actions and reactions made. An interesting way to keep up the action is by adding in enough personality to explain why V does certain things. It can bring in background, as well as enough personality or persona to give the reader a better understanding of the character.

Persona 5
---In the beginning, I got a lot of persona involving V. However, I would have liked to see a lot more throughout the thread. If you have the chance, which you did in the short posts, don’t forget to add in enough to build the character as well as the story together. Keep up his ideals that really are the heart of who V is post-to-post in order for the reader to really get a good feel of what’s going on as well as the general personality of the character.

Technique 6
---In the beginning, the first post, you had beautiful uses of advanced technique. However, after that opening post, there wasn’t a lot if any in the subsequent posts. I’d suggest to keep up that technique usage through the story being told, keep up the powerful uses in order to continue drawing in the reader.

Mechanics 8
---“Once within a six foot range he brought his right foot in front of him” [6] ~ there should be a comma after “range” and before “he” since it’s a separation within the sentence.

Clarity 8
---Everything was clear, nearly perfectly so.

Wild Card 5

Score: 59

Rewards:

The International WINS!
525 exp | 200 gold

Libis:
150 exp | 125 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!