View Full Version : The AEsir's Challenge
The gravel crunched beneath his feet as Donovan stepped out of the high grass and onto the road. His hand swiped over his belt where his gun should have been. "Damnit!" He snarled. His other hand caressed the hilt of his knife. "At least he left me something." He untucked his shirt and felt his wounds. They had scarred over well, and so he set off for the town in the distance, tucking his shirt back in as he walked.
As he passed the wooden sign marking the name of the town there was a flutter of wings, and a raven perched itself atop the road marker. The voice echoed within his head once more. Your Grandfather's revolver could not be moved. Someone must know that it was you in the alley that night. Sean sighed. "What am I supposed to do now? Where do I start?" The raven cocked its head at an angle, its coal-black eyes piercing his deep green ones. Find those who you deem worthy to call your brothers and sisters. Mark them, and I shall call them AEsir. With a spread of its wings the raven took flight, disappearing into the nearby forest.
Sean sighed again. Baldur, he thought. I like that. He resumed his stride towards the small town. He walked with confidence as he approached the tavern, his head held high and one hand resting on the butt of his knife. As he entered the fairly well kept establishment, one could tell by the look in his eyes that this wasn't someone to be made an enemy of.
Stepping away from the door, he paused and ran his eyes over the crowd. He noted the wild mix of soldiers, farmers, middlle-classmen, and various rogues. Few looked friendly, fewer still reputable. He strode over to the bar and grabbed a bourbon from the bartender before taking a seat at an unoccupied table by the window. After a few swigs his gaze settled on the sky outside. The sun was just setting and the heavens were lit with a conflict of deep blues and crimson reds, all punctuated by the pinpriicks of stars just making their presence know.
After a quick glance at the plumes of smoke which rose into clouds to fill the room in which he sat, he made up his mind to take a seat outside. He had the barman refill his glass and stepped outside. He paused for a moment, inhaling the crisp pre-night air and took a seat on a stone wall facing the setting sun. He took another swig of bourbon, savoring the sensation as it slid down his throat. A moment of peace before he would have to face his next challenge.
Open to anyone and everyone.
I watched the man return to the daylight, curious as ever as to why I had been sent here to trail him through the endless infinity of the world. He did not appear to me to be of any overt threat, either to the Hummel, Yrene, or any of the free peoples. His clothes were not of a manner I was accustomed to, but that I put down to lack of experience, of travelling, of seeing the world beyond my own vicinity.
Questions of servitude didn't surface but I could not help but feel driven to contemplate the reasons. I walked out from the sanctuary of mahogany and pine trees and approached him, timing my steps to each swig of the liquid he drank and timed my interjection into his affairs with perfect and cold finesse.
'Excuse me, sir.' At that point I noticed he had an aura, I could tell just from drawing near to him. 'Might I be tempted to ask what is the name of this tavern?' Fallacies of the peculiar way humans spoke were something I had learned through dealing with customers in Donnalaich, the daily ins and outs of common and tradespeak were not something I held dearly enough to speak well, but it was a passable attempt. 'I am looking for a friend, an elf of a similar garb and height as me. Have you seen anyone inside?'
To discern this man's threat, his origins, I must take to him and come to understand his existence, as all the Hummel learn to understand their part to play in the World Eater's cleansing.
If I only I knew then what I know now, of planes beyond our own...
The bourbon glass had nearly been drained as Sean sat enjoying the close of day and pondering his new life. A nearby presence, movement caught jusst out of the corner of his eye, roused Donovan back to reality. He followed the man in his peripherals, feeling his movements like the weakest vibrations of raindrops on his skin. For a moment he was on edge, his fingers slipping imperceptibly closer to the knife in his belt. At his address he turned to face the stranger, taking a breath to calm himself before responding.
"Not quite sure, I'm new to the region." Wherever I am, he thought as he set down the nearly empty glass. He took a moment to examine the man, noting the slight gauntness about his face and his strange garments. What the hell are you? He answered the next question with a shake of his head. "No, I haven't." But that's not why you're here, or else why bother me rather than see for yourself? His suspicion piqued. Fingers brushing the haft of his knife beneath his jacket, he hooked his thumb in his belt so as to appear casual.
Rising to his feet, he faced the man with the sunset to his own back. Light swept over the tips of his short hair and illuminated the stranger's figure. "Of course, I might have missed him. Or perhaps he hasn't arrived yet." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the setting sun. "Getting late, though. How safe is it around here after dark?" He inquired.
This man's manners and form were truly admirable, but I could not but feel it was out of curiosity equalling mine that he said his dues and asked questions of his own. I watched him very tentatively, my reflexes pronging me awake. 'My dear friend. This is the land of Althanas. It is never safe, no matter where you go or what time of the day it may happen to be. It is never safe.'
He reminded me somewhat of myself during those first few days and weeks on the surface. Each surprise a new challenge to rise and greet the morning sun. So many races, so many cultures all interacting with one another, for better or for worse. No wonder they waged eternal and pointless wars over nothing. 'Tell me, what land do you call home?' My common began to slip loosely from my tongue as the words and 'turns of phrase' sprung forth from my memory.
I made careful moves to step up onto the porch of the tavern, but not to draw too near, lest this 'danger' to the fabric of the world hold some hidden power, some obscure remnant from another time that could end my life. 'More so,' I continued, 'what brings you here, to Corone, of all the places to see?'
The words sank solemnly into Sean's mind, and he sighed resignedly. "So it seems I have my work cut out for me." Though he spoke with a seemingly unintentional formality, the man's amicable demeanor presented no air of hostility. Sean allowed himself to relax a bit and focus more upon his speech, as he was beginning to feel as though he were being investigated. Even this calmed him a bit, though, as it was warmly familiar. He was a lawman himself, after all.
He decided a small concession could do no harm. He offered a hand in greeting. "You know, we haven't even introduced ourselves. Call me Baldur. I hail from Midgard, a nation far removed from this region. I have no particular business here in Corone, I happened upon this town while traveling." Now to test the waters, he thought. "And yourself? What's your business here?"
I could do nothing but doubt the reasons for my being here, in this humble little hovel of vice and politics. The man seemed pleasant enough but I knew now more than ever that people should never be taken at face value. Considering his question carefully, I sat opposite, flicking the hair from my eyes and basking for a moment in the gentle breeze and chill evening air. Word games are more pleasurable than the exchanging of steel bound sentences and rime-bound attrition, that was all I could arrive at in the medley of confusion.
‘I am afraid I am but a hunter, seeking his prey. Such a quarry as the one I seek is a most elusive foe, slippery, hidden, lacking in any true guise or visage.’ I took his hand and shook it firmly, as he did mine. The name Baldur did not ring any bells in the heavens, it was an unfamiliar pronunciation, perhaps? His home lands, Midgard, were as unfamiliar to me as the lands beyond Donnalaich, perhaps he was telling the truth, or perhaps he was telling a lie, I did not dare test the theory so early in our discussion. ‘My name, my friend, is Cydnar Yrene, although most call me Cydnar.’
The intonation of my words were heartfelt and welcoming, as the Master had taught me. The language of the Hummel, the Ancient tongue, was a heavy and drab and angry linguistic. Without direction or purpose or control one of my kind could easily sound threatening, even when uttering a greeting. It was a tricky dance of the court, to keep the common tongue flowing from my mind, but it was serving it’s purpose. It was conversing with answers.
‘Might I partake drink with you, Baldur, whilst I wait for my companion to arrive from his journey from Salvar? He may be a while, but there is still light left in the day for good conversation and the introduction of new participants in the fabric of my tapestry.’ Somehow I doubted the metaphor would be understood, but I could not fathom how to word it in simpler terms. With a deft point at his rapidly emptying glass I moved with one quick-step towards the bar, a questionable shrug adding to the effect. I’d seen it a thousand times in bars much like this one, I hoped it would not end in a ‘quarrel,’ or whatever humans did following a disagreement of terms of family accusations.
Baldur grinned, enjoying the man's linguistic flair and his rarely spoken turn of phrase. Still, he now had the distinct impression that perhaps he was the prey his new friend sought. "Or perhaps the weft of your web?" He responded, cocking an eyebrow. In spite of his intimation he accepted the drink and walked with Cydnar to the bar.
"Well my friend," He began, "It seems we have quite a lot in common. I am a hunter as well, in a manner of speaking. More of a soldier, really. My foes can be elusive as well, though their basic form is simply that of any man who pits himself against common justice. I suppose you could say that in my past life I was a lawman, and I retain every degree of that title." He placed his glass on the bar and neglected it. He'd had enough to drink for one night, and he refused to compromise his judgement in the face of this potential new challenge.
Being that the tavern was very public, and his acquaintance seemed unlikely to react violently in such a setting, Baldur opted to venture a bold inquisition. His face hardened, and his eyes locked with those of the 'hunter'. "Now tell me, Cydnar. Considering the nature of your hunt, what interest did I arouse? As foreign as this region may be to me, I'm sure it's not common practice for a man to approach a total stranger and invite him to a drink. Especially when said man is already attending to other business."
I assumed my quarry was a fool but his line of questioning only served to prove me more wrong. I held contention with answering, but for the benefit of maintaining the persona 'friendly ally' amongst a strange and hostile and potentially dangerous tavern, I played his game.
‘Interest? Yes, I guess you could say something about you intrigued me. Truth be told, I was forewarned that a man of magical prowess would appear here, something that threatened to jeopardise my people’s nature, their name, their purpose on this god forsaken plane of existence.’ I took to a seat at the bar, the man in tow, and enjoyed the remnants of our introduction. New frontiers and new borderline dreams always thrilled me, the possibility, the hint of the unknown - magical.
‘You spoke of being a lawman in your ‘former life?’ Then you must surely understand that all worlds, universes, cities, countries and homes have their own legal code, their natural tendencies. My people the Hummel, in a way, are lawmen too. We uphold a code so ancient that it is written into the very fabric of Althanas itself. We are guardians of magic, healers of the world from magical damage and abuse. We return…’ I chose the words carefully, trying to veil a very obvious threat, a fishing about for information. ‘Those things that are not meant to be here, to whence they came.’
Something about Baldur gave me the impression of unknowing transparency. I doubted he knew what he had done, and in reflection, I should not have been so veiled and deceitful in attempting to illicit an explanation as to how or why he was here. We all learn the hard way, the trials of our lives elevating our responsibilities so that we can make the same mistakes over and over. Repetition.
‘I came searching for a disturbance, some scar on the earth or a ruin but instead my good friend, I find you! Do not be alarmed, I am only here to help, but I must ask…’ I gave up the gambit, my heart warming to the cheerful fellow. ‘Why would I be drawn here to you…is this ‘Midgard’ where you are truly from, or are you a sorcerer in disguise?’ I tried to smile, tilting and hinting at my now empty glass to offer a second beverage.
Baldur listened to Cydnar's explanation with bewildered astonishment. Surely the man couldn't be serious? No, he could see it in his eyes. This was neither a joke, nor was his friend insane. Still, he scoffed at the idea. "A sorcerer? Not hardly! I've been called a lot of things in my lifetime, but never a goddamn wizard." He shook his head, smiling in disbelief. "No, no, no, you must have mistaken me for something else. I'm just a sheriff, and before that a soldier. I carried a rifle, not a wand or a cane or whatever it is someone... magical would use." That was when the memory surfaced.
I grant you my blessing, with which you may learn to control life itself.
His finger inadvertently passed over the scar on his shoulder. He knew there were three others on his stomach and back. His eyes glazed over as he stared into the mirror behind the bar. A strange tingling sensation shot through his hands. "I..." He had to know, and so he stared down into his hand, focusing hard. It began as a faint stir in hs chest, then a droplet of warmth slowly pulled down his arm. As it reached his fingertips it emerged as a golden spark which fell down into his open palm.
His lips parted slightly as he watched the glowing ember in absolute disbelief. "Holy shit..." He mumbled. He submitted the creation to Cydnar's observation before closing his fingers around it. The warmth pierced his palm before dissipating, as if absorbed into his body. "I can - but, I've never..." His gaze met that of his compatriot and he asked bluntly, and bewildered, "How?"
I apologize for this taking so long. It's been a long week.
Struggling to contain my surprise I took up the tankard and hid my smile behind it’s silver symmetry. Baldur held out his hand to me, as if proffering it up for my regal condemnation. This was no news to me for magic was as much a part of me as it was Althanas, it was the lifeblood, the ether, the whispering wind that held everything together.
“How? An interesting question I assure you. One befitting of grander halls and longer beards than you or I could ever partake in. Magic, sorcery, whatever you wish to call it comes from all manner of sources. Sometimes, like me, the gods give us their power, a small fragment of dominance with which to work their will. Others are born with a connection to the magical undercurrent of Althanas, others learn to tap into it. Many, like those to the East and the West war with it, never learning how to control their abilities until the earth itself weeps for it’s loss.”
The barman refilled our vessels, in the silence caused by the trickling of liquids, I contemplated the nature of our meeting. This man, so young, genuinely seemed to be unawares of his place in our world, or the nature of his awakening manna. In nature the snake is often viewed as the great devourer, but it has another name. It is the Serpent Mother, the nurturer of raw talent; cocooning weakness in a egg shell, unleashing the viper within when the moment is right.
“You Baldur, on the other hand, seem to be teetering on a cusp of a grand discovery. I cannot offer you anything more than advice and training, answers…well, those you will have to find on your own.” The hubbub in the tavern slowly grew, chattering glasses, whispering voices and boisterous backslapping mingling together to form the backdrop of a man’s legacy.
“I may have come in search of a battle, of a vanquishing strike of the blades on my hip, but it seems I have a greater purpose, one behest of all instruction I have received. Perhaps my masters saw the potential for danger in you, one not yet realised. If you would permit me the luxury, perhaps we can ensure you walk a brighter path in your discovery. If I teach you magic as it is meant to be, to respect and to revere whilst using it, then maybe…maybe the World Snake will not bare it’s fangs for you.”
The daylight outside was beginning to fade, mimicking the hope born and fading quickly in the man’s young mind. I could see his doubt, his puzzled look, one I shared when I was a young boy deep beneath the earth. I held out my hand and let the fingers gently fold open. Despite the cold of the evening, a warmth grew between my fingers. “We are together Baldur, brothers in ensorcelled destinies.” I whispered the words of power which controlled the quartz beyond our own reality, conjuring forth a small sphere no bigger than a pebble. “Let us share the joys of innocence and experience together, and no harm will come to either of us.”
I smiled as best I could, unsure if my offer sounded as true and sincere as I had intended it. I did not want to kill this man, the spark in his hand gave hint that he was not entirely defenceless…but I could not simply leave him to the world. My duty is to contain magic and protect Althanas, to repair the wounds on it’s surface. It was a new and frightening prospect, an alien and dangerous idea.
What if the Hummel could stop such disasters before they occurred, what if they could become paragons and monks of magic’s True use? I hoped, and prayed that I would not be condemned for such heresy. A snake’s fangs hunger more for his own kin than it’s prey, if fable was to believed.
“So, Baldur, what do you say? Will you take my guidance, and begin the journey to discovering your potential?”
Nothing could be seen in the same light anymore. His head swam, flooded with possibilities and potential for his new found power. Slowly the memories pieced themselves together in the back of his mind. The gods give us their power.That was it, he knew. He felt the twinge of pain in his shoulder again.
A familiar phrase pulled him back into reality. "The World Serpent?" He inquired. "Jormungand? Perhaps you and I aren't so different after all." He smiled, considering his... immortality. "I don't believe the serpent's fangs come for me, my friend. I have an old comrade watching over me in that respect." Though he was finally regaining his composure, he was still struck by absolute awe at the task which lay before him.
His task was not, nor had it ever been, to save the world. It was to inspire others to stand up for the right. No man alone can change the state of the world, but through a sincere love of justice and understanding of the necessity of violence he may rally those who share his love of the right, and together they may seize upon what honor is left in the world.
Baldur knew that this man shared in his ideals. Indeed, he could be the next warrior appointed as his own kin. He could be the next of the AEsir. Beyond that, Donovan knew he needed to learn to utilize his powers if he was to accomplish the great mission Odin had bestowed upon him. "Cydnar," He spoke slowly, deliberately, "I would be honored if you would teach me the respect and understanding of your craft. I came into this world meaning it no harm. Exactly the opposite in fact. I am here to save it. My powers, as yours, were bestowed upon me by the greatest of gods. It has occured to me that our missions are nearly identical, though mine is not merely to restore balance, but to present the righteous with the upper hand. I am to restore this world to a state of honor. I welcome your instruction as a fellow man of that such respect."
I was reminded of my time beneath the soils in the academy, tutored by lavender scented mistresses and ancient elves that had not seen sun since before the stars cried for life. You could not fault those days, but I never considered I myself would become a tutor, an ultimate irony I guess. That Baldur showed eagerness to learn and to come to understand his awakening abilities showed great promise, and meant we would not come to blows over origins and tantamount destines. We could become friends, and allies in these dark times were always welcome, regardless of their strangeness.
“I am gladdened to hear you mean well, and gladdened further still by your adherence to whatever faith you find enlightening. I did not mean to threaten you with my analogy, but I have no control over Yrene, the World Snake’s path. He can consume and crush his own servants as easily as he does the damaged parts of this world. In time, I will share his philosophies and ways, if you would give me the pleasure of telling me your own. We have much to learn from one another, things that go beyond cantrips and incantations.” I nodded to the barman and waited in silence for my glass to be refilled, watching the bearded man with a plural moustache (which must’ve taken great care to tend to) tilt the flagon to Baldur in turn.
“I believe that we have plenty of time, but perhaps just a quick interjection into your schedule, accompany me outside my friend, and let us see what you can do without tempered knowledge or experience.” I stood and adjusted the hem of my robes, tucking the rope that was tied about my waist into the hem and up behind the rocky carapace of my armour. “Magic has a way of controlling its wielder if he or she does not give it the respect such a wild and ferocious entity deserves.” I made to walk out of the tavern, swaggering with gait towards the door. The evening air was a brisk reminder of our fragility, of our susceptible nature in such extreme environments.
“Let us see what you know, simply by willing something to happen. Call on whatever gods you serve, channel whatever rage or empathy you possess. Do not ask of it more than you think you will get, or that you think you deserve. Be a sub-conscious wisher, and see where it gets you.” I stood several feet from the tavern, hoping Baldur understood, hoping he was able to at least conjure the energy he’d shown at the bar more than once, more than in sheer circumstance.
I stood on the grass, thinking of the still winds and the last remnants of the sun kissing my brow. The hubbub of the tavern drifted away as birdsong and distant dream overran my senses. In the darkness at the back of my mind, two red eyes appeared, staring with hellfire out into the fabric of reality. Yrene was watching, waiting, inspecting. The shadow flicked a mocking tongue and I crossed my arms with a stern glance at my new companion as I waited. Hoping for something spectacular.
Forgive my semi-bunny, fell free to have Baldur be outside or retrospect the conversation as they walk out of the tavern together. Your choice.
Baldur rose and accompanied his companion outside. He liked the way Cydnar spoke of a chance to test his new found powers. They stepped out onto the soft grass and he exchanged a glance with his comrade. The stern and unforgiving manner in which Cydnar eyed him actually brought him comfort. It invoked a fond memory.
A young recruit stood at parade rest in the dirt, his head and face shaven, eyes locked forward, a shadow of a smile creeping across his otherwise sober face. His tan t-shirt was stained with sweat. Before him paced a large, irritated looking Drill Instructor. He eyed the recruit viciously, his cap pulled low over his brow. Sean dared not meet his gaze. "Alright you little spitf***, you think you've got what it takes to make Recon? You think you can be better than me? Is that it?" The sergeant screamed, spittle occasionally drifting from his lips. "Sir, no sir!" Sean shouted in reply, still not meeting his glance. "Oh really? You lying little shitbag!"
He tore off his own camouflage jacket and cast it aside, stepping out into the dirt. "Well lets see what yu've got, c***sucker!" Sean stepped forward, his hands raised in loose fists. His right foot dropped back behind his left, and the toes of his boots pointed forward. His eyes finally met with his instructor's. Within them the veteran combatant could see stolid determination, almost bordering on bloodlust. It surprised him, and in that moment Sean lunged forward, his right fist slamming towards the sergeant's face as he closed the few steps between himself and his target...
Baldur inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh night air. He hung on to the memory as he focused in on himself, drawing his energy outwards. He stretched a hand out, and for a long moment it felt as if his very organs were being tugged forwards. A hot, tingling sensation began to trickle down his arm. Liquid golden light dripped from his fingertips, dropping soundlessly onto the grass. He flexed his fingers, and the drops slowly came together to form a minute pool of light. He focused harder and flexed again. The puddle reacted sluggishly, pulling together into a small sphere. Baldur knelt to pick it up.
Sean felt the tip of his knuckle graze skin before he was twisted violently around by a vice-like grip on his wrist. An arm locked around his throat and dragged him to the ground, rubbing his face into the dirt. He kicked and thrashed, throwing all his weight to one side and attempting to roll his opponent over, but more weight came crushing down on him. He could no longer breathe, but still he struggled. Finally he heard the sergeant screaming for him to stop. He relaxed his body and felt the body lift off of him. He gasped for air as he rolled onto his back and pushed himself up to a sitting position. The Drill Instructor stood above him, smiling slyly. "You're a tough little bastard, I'll give you that." He helped the recruit to his feet. Sean noted a tiny drip of blood from the sergeant's nose where his fist had just barely made contact. "Maybe you do have what it takes."
The sphere exploded with a loud crack. Baldur fell back with a shout of surprise and pain as every one of the hot shards flew back at him, embedding themselves in his hand and forearm. He sat in the grass, clutching his forearm just above the elbow. Cydnar knelt beside him, but he waved off any assistance. "Nah, I think I can take care of this." He stammered, steadying his breathing. Trickles of blood flowed down his palm and forearm from shallow gashes withing which were embedded what appeared to be golden shards of glass.
He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing on the shards. It took nearly half a minute, but finally he could feel them melting away, sifting into his skin. He opened his eyes again, and watched as the glass formed new flesh over the wounds. He wiped away the blood to find multiple small scars. Flexing his hand, he determined that no nerve damage had been done. Baldur looked up at Cydnar. "Well that was certainly interesting." He smiled.
With keen eyes I watched Baldur produce manna and feel it's reflection. In the air there was a tingle, like a thunderstorm encroaching on the edges of a small borderland village. Uncertainty of tomorrow caught in a rain-cloud, the ever-changing rains of the torrential. There was something strange about this man, not just his demeanour, his grace. There was something in the way he spoke, the words he inferred, it was as if he was the same as I.
I served through obedience, through little choice. From the mentioning of destiny, it was as if the gods had chosen him for some service we would not likely know of until the moment arrived.
I could not help but feel excited, for the both of us, for the mutual exchange.
"Interesting indeed, young sir." I muttered half collected congratulations whilst preferring my aid to him. Whatever recoil and reverberating magicks Baldur felt, they were far more wild and uncontrolled, untamed than I'd imagined. "Tell me," I pull on his hand and bring him upright, patting him on the back with a half cocked smile.
"Tell me, what did that feel like, what did you hear, see, taste?"
I remembered the very first moment I touched the firmament.
I cried.
I remembered the very first moment I smelt the ether.
I screamed.
I remembered the very first moment I heard the angels.
I wept with joy.
"Tell me," I continue, whispering almost as if the secrets of the universe were seeping from my lips. The cold child of the ever growing evening enveloped us both in semi twilight, and I peered into Baldur's somewhat pained eyes.
"Tell me what it feels when you feel that power?"
It was here that I heard the Aesir's Challenge, and here that my view of the world changed forever.
Requested Spoils:
Detect Magic:
Cydnar has begun to develop an innate ability to sense magical presence in objects or auras, but as of yet, cannot discern the source, or nature of the spell; only it's location and strength, reeling in the sickness the stronger it becomes.
Mutant_Lorenor
03-06-10, 02:54 PM
The AEsir's Challenge
Gentlemen! I wish both of you could have really stuck to this thread and developed it further. There were a few interesting ideas in the thread. I would have liked to see both of you complete the thread. With that said, on to the judgment!
I am going to judge you guys together.
Story
Continuity- 4/10
Cydnar-I got a sense of the "bigger picture" as the quest was nearing its conclusion. Cydnar has a strong sense of his place in the world. He knows where he has come from and has some understanding of where he is going. I got the sense that Cydnar is a deeply religious individual with a philosophy he calls his own. Keep developing this in the near future! I am looking forward to seeing Cydnar grow as an individual.
Baldur-At first, I didn't really get a good grasping of who Baldur as a man was. However, as the thread unfolded I did get a clear sense of understanding that Baldur was a strong person who had come from a very tough background. I would have liked to see you develop the character even more.
Setting- 3/10
Cydnar-You had a strong grasp of the setting, and some of the descriptive narrative was well done on your part. However, the setting was still very bland here. Both of you could have done better here. I want to feel like I'm being absorbed into the world you guys are creating! The most tell-tale sign of this was in :: Paragraph 2 post number 12: I nodded to the barman and waited in silence for my glass to be refilled, watching the bearded man with a plural moustache (which must’ve taken great care to tend to) tilt the flagon to Baldur in turn.:: You missed an opportunity here to really describe the interaction with the NPC's around you. Remember you were in a busy tavern at the time of day when people are coming home from work and going to have drinks.
Baldur-You did slightly better interacting with the environment than your companion did. You used the chairs around you, used that bird in the beginning as part of the setting and other minute details I thoroughly enjoyed. I got the sense you were really trying to put your best foot forward and I enjoyed the end result.
Pacing- 4/10
Cydnar-Only the last couple of posts were slowed down with the pacing. The last post was a rushed ending and threw off the good job that you had been doing up until that point. I would like to see more concrete endings from you in the near future. In general, I understood what you were trying to do.
Baldur-Your character had some weird events happen to him. I liked the repeated flash-backs towards the end, but in the future, be careful how you use them. Really explain the flash-backs and how they relate to your character's background. I -personally- understood what you were trying to do by revealing some of the training that Baldur went through, but it could have been planned out way better. All in all, you did a good job of explaining where your character has come from in such a way that it didn't throw the story off all together.
Character
Dialog- 6/10
Cydnar-Both of you guys had adequate dialog for your characters which is why I scored a six here. Cydnar spoke like a religious Althanian might and made several references to other events happening around Althanas, including "back home." Also, I enjoyed the World Eater references. Major props for that one.
Baldur-Baldur adopted to a strange situation on a strange, alien world exceedingly well. He used what he knew. In all he was able to hold his own against a native Althanian with considerable more experience in philosophical matters than Baldur had. I would have liked to see much more physical dialog from your character, but the internal monologues were enjoyable in my eyes. Keep up the good work!
Action- 5/10
Cydnar-This was a thread that was clearly the meeting of two opposing yet similar minds. Cydnar's actions were filled with the religious convictions I've come to expect from my past interactions with this character.
Baldur-You knew what you wanted your character to say and do, and everything flowed off naturally. You had a few key flashbacks occur in the thread that I would have liked you to develop even further. I was curious to learn more about this "Drill Sergeant" character and how he was connected to Baldur's past. You mentioned through the thread that the scars had some connection to his past as well, I was left wondering what the connection was.
Persona-6/10
Cydnar-Both of you guys did a great job here. Cydnar, major props, once more, for mentioning the World Eater. It is a consistent theme in your Cydnar stories.
Baldur-You did very well as well. I gave both you guys a 6 here because I felt that the depictions of your characters were done with great skill. I would have liked to see certain areas of the story developed further, but that's just my personal preferences as a writer. I would like to see more from your character in the near future.
Writing Style
Techniques- 4/10
Cydnar-You have a good understanding of the English language and your style was definitely much more poetic with Cydnar.
Baldur-You made a few small errors here that hurt the general score for both of you guys.
Mechanics- 5/10
Cydnar-I saw much more allegories and use of creative plot devices from you than your partner. You clearly have a strong understanding of style and what you want to do with your character, who you present him as.
Baldur-You used some interesting plot devices but in general you kept your writing style very simple and straight forward. I wasn't blown away, but I enjoyed reading the thread nonetheless.
Clarity- 4/10
Cydnar-I generally understood what you guys were trying to do with both of your posts.
Baldur-A few typos and grammar errors hurt the overall score here, but otherwise you did a good job.
Wild Card- 3/10
Cydnar-Constant mentions of the World Eater, and other tidbits of your character's deep history moved me. I enjoyed reading your work. The ending post hurt your score here since there was no true conclusion but the World Eater and a few other morsels made me enjoy the thread.
Baldur-You had several key story arches in the thread. The most important point being the flash-back to your training with the Drill Sergeant, and the talking bird in the beginning of the thread. Other than that, him suddenly knowing magic kind of threw the thread off a bit. I would have scored you guys a bit higher. I understand though that you were probably going to try to get that light sphere thing as a spoil. Regardless, be more careful when you attempt to unlock abilities in the future. Otherwise, the thread was a solid and quick read and I enjoyed it.
Total Score- 44/100
Spoils
Experience-342 Experience.
Baldur receives 100 Gold!!!
Other Rewards-
Cydnar receives 70 Gold and his requested Spoil is approved. You can use this ability when you hit level 1, pending an R.O.G. update and approval by the Mod handling your case.
Taskmienster
03-06-10, 03:20 PM
Exp and GP added.
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