Round 1 Newcomer: Philomel Vs Tourneymant

[Silence Sei]

Battle begins tonight at Midnight CST. Good luck!

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas walked among the flowers and bushes of the Pastila Gardens as he made his way to the fighting arena. This open air arena had hosted many of the most historic fights of all times, including the fight between two of the worlds leading Hand To hand Combatants, Renigad the Cruel and Filvidor the Macho. Today it was going to be the location of the Magus Cup battle between Barnabas and Philomel. As he entered the ring the crowed stayed silent as nobody could tell he was there. Barnabas smirked, though no one could tell as he went up to the referee who was to keep an eye on the match. The ref was an old man who had on a white robe that had vertical black stripes.

Barnabas then Leaned into the mans ear and whispered. "Tell the crowd that Barnabas Tourneymant has arrived." He got a nod from the ref, who then used a special spell to make his voice be heard throughout the stadium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, I am proud to announce that Barnabas Tourneymant has arrived! He is now standing in the north eastern corner of the ring. Don't expect to see much of him as he is near invisible. He then turned to the North Eastern corner and said, "Will you please show us the weapon you have chosen for this tournament?" Barnabas nodded then pulled out a frying pan and everyone deadpanned. The ref looked Barnabas with a "Are you crazy" look before he said, "Are you sure that is your weapon?"

Barnabas then said, "Of course, this frying pan has been enhanced to withstand any sword strike, plus it is a good blunt weapon."

The ref and everyone else in the stadium sweat-dropped but just started to cheer again as they waited for Barnabas's opponent to arrive.

[Philomel]

Clunk clunk clunk

Like a high-heeled darling of high-society Philomel moved over the cobbles coming to the entrance of the arena, her grey eyes blazing as she stared around at the people. Levels of heads bobbed around and above her, looking down into the tournament area. She pursed her lips slightly as she swept her gaze around the sand, then up to where the judge sat on his high throne. She clicked her tongue a couple of times against the back of her incisors, then raised a hand, and twisted it in the air.

Her reprentative, the balding gravelly voiced man, Mort, who was also her pimp, grinned a little as he saw her gesture, then strode up to lean over the balcony and shouted loudly to the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and here I present the sellsword like none other herself, Philomel Serkana van der Aart, the Faun of Love and Blood, here to challenge this... ghost, Tourneymant."

His tones rolled out like a cascade of guttral amusement, and he ended with a rough grunting laugh that filled the stadium. The audience in part, mostly around him, fell silent, and they turned their wide eyes to stare at him. The judge in his seat, dressed in those fine white and black robes turned towards Mort and stared. His jaw tensed - he looked as if he was about to jump up and slap the pimp across the face.

Philomel broke it. She raised her chin, and took the introduction as the best she was going to get. Whipping out her sword from her back sheath she strode out from the dimness out from under the bridge, destroying the tension and gaining in pace as she moved into the arena itself. With her sword hanging by her side, she kept her right hand spare and poised near her throwing knives on her thigh, her eyes staring around to get sight of this Ghost she had heard so much about.

Ghost my ass. There he was. A floating, damn frying pan near the opposite wall. Philomel laughed, and lifted up the tip of her sword, then lowered herself into a crouch, before breathing in and sweeping her body up into a ten-foot long condemning-to-the-ground leap of asbolute faun awesomesness, her sword swinging down at where the frying pan was held. Roughly the place where the hand should be.

This was going to be fucking interesting.

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas just sighed when he saw the woman before him try a jump strike. Seriously, I know it seems like something that would be cool but it is totally useless. Barnabas then just side stepped to his right then swung his pan to hit where her head would be when she landed.

[Philomel]

As Philomel landed sweetly and effortlessly into the sand, her hooves catching her weight her sword tip flew down but it met nothing. Microseconds after there was a loud clanging near her ear as the frying pan smashed off her right rams' horn harmlessly, as if it were a feather.

Philomel found herself laughing as she stood fast, lithely skipping back and raising her chin to hold the rough figure of the man-shaped outine she could see in her gaze. She swept up her sword again, twisting it from its previous position to lunge at where she judged his chest would be, though kept her distance.

Her marksmanship was keen, her judgement often correct. After years of training with a true warrior knight, and then killing that warrior knight she was a knowledgable fighter. If she was truly honest she would have preferred someone she could firstly see, and then secondly, have a more challenging weapon than a gods-damned frying pan.

But culinery interest or not she was determined to win. For the sake of her dying mother, for the sake of her own name, even for the sake of her pimp currently leaning over the side of the stand, watching her with a broken-toothed grin. But most of all for the sake of her companion for life, the shaking and nervous fox Earth Spirit who was poised by the edge of the gate she had entered from, wanting to rush in and assist, but knowing if he did it would cause more harm than good.

But Philomel was confident, she was sure.

Thank the gods for my thick skull, she grinned and began a merry dance of evasion.

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas saw the sword heading towards his chest and reacted properly. He brought the pan right in front of the blade which stopped it in it's track. He then pushed up to send Philomel backwards slightly which gave him time to spin around to increase momentum with his pan. As he got closer he prepared to trip her, if she decided to try to deflect his pan. An invisible smile graced the face of the invisible man as he thought one way or another he would get her.

[Philomel]

With the force exacted from the pan Philomel slid back in the sand, her hooves scraping along the grains. The frying pan was idiotic, was her first reaction, but her second was wisdom, that it must be imbued somehow with magical force to withstand her sword. After all, though it was iron it was well forged and had a neat history with her.

She could remember the day the warrior who had taught her had taken her to the forge in Salvar. It had been during one of those long winter months, where the wind had threatened to bite their noses clean from their faces. The blacksmith, though, was clearly used to this. His forge was bright hot, and his roof was almost clear of snow because of the steam pouring from the chimney like a waterfall. A fine murder of crows had gathered upon this slope and where huddled there like hoardes of hunkering survivors, begging for warmth in this bitterness. Philomel had smiled, then had been ushered in.

The blacksmith had asked for a great amount of money, but being who she was, with a profession to win hearts and loyalities in one night, it was not difficult for Philomel. He had asked her perform many of her learned steps, and she had done so. He had measured, weighed her and certainly not found her wanting.

The Invisible man spun, stupidly, exposing his back. She was back, slightly, having been pushed away, but was generously spinning closer. Ducking down Philomel ground her feet into the earth, connecting with the element that she had been born to love from the day of her birth, and engaged in an upwards sideways disengage - a lunge - as the frying pan came back around, getting to the back that was bared to her, and letting her head once more lie in the path of the frying pan. It would bang of her head, oh so harmlessly again, as this idiotic man would be injured because he forgot the ancient rule.

Never turn your back on an enemy.

[Miss Relt]

Though his back was to her, Barnabas's head was not. He saw her lung to try to hit his back, so with a quick motion he stuck his back leg out and tripped her. However, as she fell she nicked his leg causing a water like liquid to spill out his body onto the ground. However, as he fished up the swing the pan was at her side, the speed of the pan fast enough where if it where to hit, it would probably send her flying about a foot to his left. Hope this is worth a nick on the leg, he thought as the pan got closer to the woman.

[Philomel]

Out of character

I am presuming you meant to post as the Invisible Man and not as Korra Relt. Would it be okay to request that you keep with the right character if posting as him? Just it gets confusing if you don't. I totally understand if this is a mistake.

[Philomel]

Veridian was on edge, his soft claws digging into the earth around him. He longed to lunge forwards, race towards his mistress-companion as she was suddenly tripped, forced to the ground. He let out a quick and reckoning growl, daring the thing that was there to play fair, and not stoop to such tactics. Tripping an opponent, that was low, so low, so terribly out of the way of anything chivalrous. If this was a true fight he himself would be allowed in there also, nipping at the Invisible Beast's ankles and sending a pain so devastating that the spirit, thing, whatever it was, would cry out and beg his mummy to tuck him into bed.

Ground, slam, down. Philomel had little idea how it had happened, but she had felt her sword press into flesh. Seeing as she was already low to the ground it did not cause much damage. In fact it was easy to roll away a few paces, tucking in her elbows and swinging up her sword as she came onto her back again, lifting it high at the same time as swinging up her hooves momentarily to block any damn blow that might come from that culinery device. She did not like to be under, she preferred to be on top, but then, it is always the client's choice she reminded herself. The client always gets to decide. Sexy or fiendish, cute or temptress, Philomel could be all these things.

Angling her right shoulder forwards, the one that was armoured with the shoulder guard, and thrust up with her sword to guard the rest of her body. She blocked the blows that came from above, as her senses spread out, close as she was to the earth. She could feel his feet dancing, his movements, his body only inches away.

Then there it was, a stumble, a stutter, and Philomel knew she had found it, his cut. As she allowed the frying pan to sweep past her defences and hit her shoulder guard she kicked hard with her hooves, slamming them straight into where she had injured him earlier, and stabbing hectically again and again as she tried to ignore the bruising that was beginning to form.

[Tourneymant]

OOC: I'm sorry about that, I was sure I had chosen Tourneymant. I'll triple check from now on.

Barnabas was in great pain, the woman had kicked him multiple times with her hooves right where she had cut him. This caused the wound to open wider. Barnabas fell back and dropped his pan on the ground useless. However, it would bring at least a small advantage, now she would be hard pressed to find him, as long as she didn't spot the wet spots in on the ground that would show where he had been. Barnabas decided to back away and think of what to do next.

[Philomel]

The pressure moved off some way, the pounding of the frying pan ceased. Philomel lay there for a while, in the same position - hands gripped around sword, hooves up, right shoulder forwards, chin lowered, completely in the defensive - until the battering stopped for long enough for her to consider it gone and her efforts successful. Quickly, lithely, she rolled twice over away from the direction the offensive had been coming from, then pushed herself to her hooves, now for the moment taking a chance to catch her breath.

It was not long. There was a thumping clang that caught her attention, not a few feet away the pan had been dropped to the ground. She raised her chin, eyes flashing around, staring straight at it, then around that area. She did not look at the way her arm rather limply held the sword at the moment, the bruising beneath the shoulder guard now distinctively getting worse in pain and beginning to chafe. Neither did she look at the way Mort her pimp was hanging over the edge of the balcony he leaned on, his greedy eyes watching her. She did not see the way the judge himself was eagerly leaning forwards in his chair, but trying to seem as if he wasn't at all excited, clasping his hands on his lap and trying to keep an impassive expression on his face.

She did not see the crowd as they waited in baited breath as this pause in the game commenced and she was forced to swap her sword to her other hand, her not exactly best hand, and try to summon the courage to prepare to use her senses, wits and horns instead of the blade. She narrowed her eyes and watched. She looked. And she saw.

She saw the wet points of what seemed to be his version of blood appear in the sand and a subtle smile came to her face. She breathed in, she skipped forwards and feinted a swing with her sword to just above the area. Then she used her greatest weapon of all and toughly, strongly and boldy swung her head around in an arc, knowing that at some point the ram's horns sprouting from her head would connect with the man's body and hopefully, hopefully they would crash into his body.

[Tourneymant]

It didn't take the woman long to find Barnabas. She swiped at his legs and he jumped up to avoid it, only to be hit by the rams horn which sent him flying right into the wall. Due to his weightlessness, the wall stopped him fully and he didn't even leave a mark. That didn't mean the wall didn't do any damage to him. In fact it had shattered his back. His body started to glow red throughout it and his invisibility dissipated and reviled his shape to the world. He knew he was practically done. However, Barnabas was not going to finish like this. He started to fight off oblivion as he used his one ability. He turned completely invisible. I need to hurt her at least a little. He thought as he slowly crawled his way to his opponent. However, before he could even make it to her his invisibility wore off and his glowing red body showed itself about a foot away. He then promptly passed out.

[Philomel]

The force that she placed into the head butt threw her sideways. Philomel stumbled for a few steps, the sword in her hand swinging down and helping to catch her body. She growled to herself, cursing silently as the movement made the bruising on her upper arm simply get worse. She hissed through gritted teeth, eyes darting around to try to catch a glimpse of the man again but there seemed to be no more sign. Slightly - Philomel concentrated on the ground.

The wet spots upon the sand, the specks of his version of blood, were pointing towards a point and then stopped, but they could not be certain. As she looked there was nothing, nothing of him to be seen, not even his body or a vague outline. For a while she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. Her sword felt heavy in her hand, but she kept it there. Grumbling under her breath she pushed her shoulder guard off from her right shoulder, reaching up to unbuckle it, then threw it to the side. Keeping her eyes flickering around she crouched into a fighting stance, swapping her weapon to both hands, the bruise now clear and blackish upon her pale flesh.

Silence, tension. She had no idea where he was. He had truly gone invisible, vanished into thin thin air. Yet she kept her stance, her strength and her guard. Veridian was creeping towards her, from the edge of the gate, wary and quiet. His ears were folded back against his head, flat. He nickered, softly, just as he got to her.

And magnificently just as a figure lit up not a foot away from her, in a throbbing red light. Brilliant and striking it burned against the sand of the arena and the breath respectively caught in both of their chests. The faun and the fox. The fox and the faun. A pause, a sudden realisation as the body appeared still, passed out, unmoving.

The height, the rough build, the figure. It was him. It had to be him.

Philomel stared, her lips parted in shock, and she suddenly took in a quick sharp breath. Him, it was him. His body.

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling, and then slowly reached up and slapped herself across the cheek. Wake up, she furiously told herself, Wake up Phi. Wake.

But no. Oh so no.

She was already awake.

And her opponent was unconcious.

Philomel let out a cry of joy, utter joy and skipped over to the body. Straddling over him she knelt, hard, on his shoulders and positioned her torso just at his chest. Pinning him down she drew the flat of her blade across his throat and held it there, daring and waiting for the soon to be moment when he would wake up.

Or at least she hoped he would wake up soon. And be faced with her sexy sexy body.

[Tourneymant]

It took a little while for Barnabas to awake to consciousness. But when he did, he was confronted with a great pain on his spine that was only intensified by someone on his shoulder blades. He groaned to signal that he was awake then felt the blade that was at his throat under him. He gulped then said, "Um, mind getting off my back? It's been shattered."

[Philomel]

Philomel had to honestly stop herself from bursting into hysterics. She looked pointedly at her hand held tight around the handle of her sword, and smiled, widely as she looked back down at the red man beneath her.

"Mind?" she said, for the first time her voice spilling out. She let her breasts man over his eyesight, only a few inches from his face. "Would I mind? You know yes, yes I think I do mind."

She chuckled, darkly as her eyebrow raised. Behind her Veridian found not only the time but also the courage to skitter over to her, then leap up to land on her shoulders. He wrapped his long fluff-ball of a tail around her neck and dug his claws into the plait of her hair. He nickered a few notes and likewise stared at the man his companion was leaning over.

His nose twitched, he sniffed and found the man to be rather shaken indeed.

Philomel paused, but did not remove the sword. She leant back a little, raised her chin.

"Darling, I will gladly get up under one condition," subtly she winked at the Invisible Man, the one they called Barnabas. "That you yield entirely and admit I am the winner. Unless..." she paused, considering, "Unless you want your throat cut too."

[hoytti]

Barnabas laughed, well at least chuckled, he couldn't really laugh with a sword to his throat. "Well, I can't move so that sort of naturally makes you the winner of this fight doesn't it?" he then stopped and thought for a second. "But if you want a verbal yield then I guess I can say I Yield!"

The Procter of the match raised his hand and said, "Barnabas Casmer Tourneymant has yielded. The winner of the match is Philomel "Phi" Serkena." as soon as he said this the crowd went wild.

[Philomel]

Philomel Serkena can der Aart slowly gained to her hooves, her smile brighter and filled with more joy than she ever knew she had in her, ever since the night of her first sexual enterprise. Now, here she was, not only proved as a warrior in bed and as an assassin, but in the arena as well, albeit it be the first round, but nevertheless it was something beautiful.

It was something honourable.

It was something truly and honestly fantastic, wonderous.

She stepped away from the shattered remains of how she had left the man, raising her arms into the air. The crowd - they seemed to adore her, they showered her with blossoms and cheers and adoration, they blessed her under the heavens and guidance of Drys, the tree Goddess, under great Tunmus, the first Faun to walk the lands of the mountains, they worshipped her. Or perhaps it was all an illusion.

In any case Philomel worshipped herself.

For tonight, she was truly, a victor.

[Philomel]

I submitted the thingmy for judgement. That okie dokie?

OKay sorry, this was done in a rush of excitement because I found out a friend of mine is pregnant. All super hyped.

jj

[hoytti]

OOC: That's fine. and congratulations to your friend.
.

[Max Dirks]

Judgment: Tourneymant v. Philomel

Since this is a tournament for the newbies, you'll get full commentary.



Tourneymant

Story
3
Not the most exciting story, but at least the pace was quick.



Setting
3
You often wrote in a manner that assumed the reader would know enough about your character to understand his connection to the setting. This is bad. For example, you add use the language "Due to his weightlessness..." At that point, I found myself asking how a creature with mass could be weightless in Althanas' gravity, which left me questioning how your character is able to hold, much less swing and hard someone with a frying pan without reading your profile. Take those opportunies to build on setting & character


Pacing
4
Your pacing started well given the sustinct actions you made with your character. Ultimately, the misuse of commas broke down the pace of the battle and confused what you were doing. Posts 8 & 11 took rereads due to breaks in pacing


Communication
3



Action
2
I'm unsure if you gave each other permission, but bunnying was rampant in this battle. Giving a player an either/or option like you did in post 6 (either get hit by a frying pan or get tripped) does not mean you can assume the player opted for one by dodging the other. By tripping Philomel in post 8, you bunnied.


Persona
3
As a reader I was unable to connect to Barnabas except that he's a bit arrogant. Why he so easily surrendered despite this arrogance is beyond me.


Mechanics
5
You had a decent amount of spelling and grammar mistakes. Study up on proper comma use too. Adding appropriate breaks can control the pace of your writing and take it the action from drab to exciting at the flip of a sentence. For example, "Today it was going to be the location of the Magus Cup battle between Barnabas and Philomel" should be written "Today, it was going to be the location of the Magus Cup battle between Barnabas and Philomel.


Clarity
5
You began the battle with excellent brevity, but evidentally became rushed as the battle went along. You added an occasional run-on sentence, but the biggest issue with clarity was misuse of commas. without appropriate breaks, I read on and became incredibly confused.


Technique
4



Wildcard
5
Kudos for being the first match to finish

Total
Total
37/100





Philomel

Story
4
See Tourneymant's comments



Setting
4
You used the setting well, but neither did a good job of explaining how Barnabus' physiology fit into all of this. You also never properly explained that Philomel is a faun and what that entails. Your first post said "Faun" VIA dialogue, but the reader did not learn a faun was different than a human until you mentioned "hooves" in your second post. You have a cool character and a cool race. Use it!


Pacing
3
Run-on sentences and pacing breaking flashbacks hurt you here. See the Action section and clarity section below for more information.


Communication
4



Action
2
While I don't think you meant to say your attack struck Tourneymant, you essentially implied it in post 10 when you said "...she kicked hard with her hooves, slamming them straight into where she had injured him earlier..." Here, you should have used the phrase "at the spot" rather than "into" because the latter is essentially forcing contact.


Persona
5
Probably your best category. Keep in mind that while that flashback breaks (like yours in post 7) might add additional insight to your character, they often break the flow of your writing. Your reaction to Tourneymant's attack in post 7 was meant to be instant, but it felt like it took a good deal of time because you broke from the action to describe your character's trip to the forge.


Mechanics
5
Like Tourneymant, you had several spelling and grammar errors. Review your writing in a word processor or use a browser with a built in spell check like Firefox before posting for instant improvement.


Clarity
4
You have some issues with run-on sentences that detract from the pacing of the battle. For example, "The frying pan was idiotic, was her first reaction, but her second was wisdom, that it must be imbued somehow with magical force to withstand her sword." Is the frying pan or Philomel the subject of the sentence? Is the frying pan wise or is Philomel. Try this: "Her first reaction was that the frying pan was idiotic, but her experience told her that it must be imbued with some type of magic to withstand a direct strike from her sword." Note how the subjects are not confused in my example. You also don't have to stop to figure out what the point of the sentence is, either.


Technique
4



Wildcard
5
Again kudos for being the first two to finish

Total
Total
40/100



Philomel advances to Round Two!

Tourneymant is still alive in the Loser's Bracket.

Philomel receives 475 EXP & 48 GP.
Tourneymant receives 150 EXP & 44 GP.

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added!