Hotter than Hell

[Darigaaz]

Closed to Django

Cheers from a depraved audience rippled across the battlefield. Untainted by blood or the elements, the freshly raked sands radiated a soothing calm that belied their caretakers. When the long shadow fell over the vast grains and ruined their perfect texture with his withered feet, Darigaaz practically felt the warmth drain from the ground.

Silence gripped them as his ancient, burning orange gaze swept over them. Rage dormant for thousands of years flooded the room and stifled the air with sweltering heat. He lifted a hand and glanced at the pale, clammy flesh that entombed his spirit; the body had withstood the test of time, but only barely. It had still aged within, and all that Darigaaz was now eclipsed his body.

On the outside, the world saw only a wraith. Shadows swallowed him whole, deprived him of all being, and made him nameless. The people whispered on high, the world rumbled its taunting laughter on low.

To the flames, it all mattered little. Darigaaz bowed his head in preparation for the trials to come. Chained to this place by promises that battle would help reclaim what he lost, the lost priest braced himself against all doubt that threatened to sway his course.

A voice boomed above the roar. "Ladies and gentlemen!" it cried out in desperation, thirsty for their undivided attention. "Put your hands together for your first challenger- he claims to be the devout follower of some god I've never heard of, but that's totally fine- Daaaaaaaaaarigaaaaaaaaz!"

He took two further steps in the sand, which crunched loudly beneath his feet. The dry air in the arena seemed to crack when he moved. Magic twisted and writhed in staggering amounts all around him, powerful and vast in scope. The wraith could feel power being flooded into the world and enslaved by this place. It felt so... profane.

Darigaaz lifted his head and tilted it back. He allowed the power to pass into him and through him; the shadow liberated his spirit with strength renewed, and steeled himself for the battle to come.

Whispers from eons past uttered their secrets into his mind as the vast powers railed against his insides, screaming to be unshackled.

And all the while, the specter waited.

[Django Firemaw]

Django cracked his neck to loosen the accumulated built up from the roaring crowds egging on for a satisfactory fight. Even as an internal sounds he couldn't even hear his own neck crack and groan over the sound of the crowds combining their eager voices in a anxious fortissimo. The wall he leaned on vibrated from the sheer strength of the crowd almost egging him on to enter the arena without even having eye shot of him.

He'd lost sight of why he'd come to this place, the groans that emulated the sound of a rockslide in his stomach did not allow him to remember. The arid heat making the hallway he stood in, boxed up and leading into the arena did not help in allowing him to collect his thoughts. His feet shuffled along the sand floor as he was finally able to meet his challenger. He breathed a sharp breath through his nostrils as bull would anticipating being lead out of his pen to entertain the masses.

The same voice that had just finished introducing the man he knew was already standing in anticipation to his arrival began to speak with the same volume to his voice, still he fought to at least let those in the crowd who it was that are about to beat the shit out of each other. "And the second Challenger- preferring to keep his origins unknown- Day Floooooooooooooow!"

Django groaned and futilely shouted "It's Django!" He unlimbered his claymore from his back. He was no longer about to wait for formalities he knew why he was here but before falling into his power stance, he bowed before hie opponent and readied himself. he was eager to see the power this people were so gun ho to see, to say the least.

[Darigaaz]

Crack!

Radiant white blurred out visibility the instant his opponent bowed, albeit for little more than a second. Lightning born of a confluence of energies streaked dangerously close to both men, which left fleeting residual heat to tickle and torment their senses. A surprised gasp escaped the crowd as bodies leaned closer to see the fight unfold.

The stain of black amid a hot, red white haze of energy stood stoic, heedless of the immediate danger. Power came at great cost, and the threat to his mortal coil did nothing to discourage the lithe, cloaked being. His response to the bow of his opponent came as a sharp narrowing of eyes. Orange slits peered through the distance between them and spoke all the words he deigned necessary.

Naked feet scattered sand as he stalked toward his adversary. What flesh could be seen was deathly pale, and when he raised a hand toward the enemy, Darigaaz did so with an open palm, invitational. Latent powers swirled rhythmically round his being as the creature drank in the intoxicating power and the flood gates burst open.

Both brilliant orbs of flame tore open wide beneath his hood. "They tell me tales from another life," he croaked in a voice ravaged by disuse. "Flames that burned white hot in an age forgotten..." His meaningless words dissipated beneath the powerful spell that wove itself before him, as though ignited on his breath.

The wraith thrust forth his pale hand, and the fire obeyed. Toward Django, a searing burst of flame rippled outward in a single, hot wave. When they saw it, the crowd howled. "Burn him alive!" "Turn him to ash!" "Scatter him to the wind!"

[Django Firemaw]

Thankfully Django had shielded his eyes into time to avoid the brunt of the disorientating effects of the amazing light and force that bore a hole in the space that separated them. The sudden nature of the ignition had already put him on alert as this was not an enemy he would be able to take his time and analyze. any and all deductions would have to be made on his feet to avoid being burnt to a crisp where he stood.

The heat kissed any exposed flesh on his body with white intensity, already he began to feel his brow trickle with the beginnings of sweat he would have to discard from his brow at his earliest convenience. Now was obviously not the time, not like he had much time to think anything over as the hooded figure raised a pale hand and extended a few words he could not comprehend the meaning off before hurtling a ball of fire his way.

The roar of the crowd once the attack was launched jolted him back into reality. He dove to the side, his claymore making a much larger dull thump against the ground as a typical claymore would be expected to make. He tucked into a ball and used his momentum to be on his feet the very next moment after the attack was launched. "Sorry to disappoint you men but intend to leave this battle unscathed!" He shouted. Though many might not have heard him those that did were either confused of doubling over in laughter. Django had a method, he did not know if this man had a temper problem but maybe being challenged in such a way might bring something out to exploit. He made sure to let the other man see just how wide his confident grin was before he shifted his weight between both feet charging in a zig zag manner. As soon as he got to within the reach of his weapon, which was a quite ample six feet, he let his claymore fly with a grace of man who was swinging a dagger towards the hooded enigma's torso.

[Darigaaz]

A sickening rip echoed softly out from his belly as blade tore flesh. Cloak seemed to peep away uselessly from his snow-colored skin and blue blood oozed from the gaping wound mechanically. It did not flow in spurts, rather it splattered out all at once, uselessly. Orange eyes tore into the hurried, hot headed youth as he finished his fast paced attack.

No sooner had the flames died out in his palm, his hand moved and a shrill shriek released Sroshar from its prison. Heat trickled out from the wound at the shade's gut, and small embers lay siege to the open flesh. It looked as though fire poured out from within him.

The agility of his enemy's blade was not lost on Darigaaz. He gazed upon Django, free from the worries and pains that shackled humanity, and offered him only an abyss in return. His hood cocked to one side questioningly for a moment, and a shiver rippled through his form.

His wicked black blade tore through the air with a hiss and crackle, enveloped in a mist of white hot flame. It seared toward Django with deadly precision.

The world was aflame, ripped open by unchecked magic. Whatever power controlled this storm of magic, it had allowed it to grow to dangerous proportions. Screams of awe trickled through the crowd, half stolen away from interest in the battle by the sheer beauty of the magic at work.

Sand blasted both men with irreverence as mystic winds buffeted the battlefield. Weather patterns that made no sense cycled through the room in an instant and confounded every sense before they had time to recover. A scream tore above the howling wind as one child in the crowd could take no more, mind boggled by the twisted Tap.

[Django Firemaw]

Django tilted his blade with a flick of the wrist just enough to make the blade hurtling towards him veer off to the side also barely missing nicking his jugular in the process. The enigmatic scorcher was already beginning to pave a war path with just the buffeting whips of heat that radiated from himself much less the already arid predisposition of their surroundings. He might suffer heatstroke before the battle came to a definitive end.

His teeth gritted at the sensory overload, colors, sights, sounds and sensations never to be seen or experienced simultaneously all the while fighting for his life against an unknown and frankly rather frightening son of a bitch was almost too much to handle. He hushed his breath and once again equipped his bluffing grin. "Damn, hold on, let me get some dough that crevice in your stomach would make a great oven." He continued to tease at the wraiths expense. Anything to potentially make him less of a threat, after all he had to keep up with his unscathed rule.

He leapt back to put himself at a suitable distance to put his claymore out in front of him. He held the grip with light fingers allowing the weight to shift daintily in his digits for such a large object. Most surprising of all, he kept the claymore gripped in one hand with no observable physical effort required. The blade was pointed out to his opponent with the attempt to parry and upon a successful parry a riposte. He intended to fence with a claymore. Django's efforts however were stunted as his sword for the first time became heavy in his hand causing his knees to buckle slightly before adjusting himself to the newfound weight. He'd practiced with objects of this weight before in his families preparation to equip him with his blade, should he not have been able to wield it because of his bastard nature he still must have been able to carry to at least serve as a figure head for the clan. Look where all that got him. He pressed both hands on the blade with gritted teeth.

[Darigaaz]

White hot flames fizzled out when his blade came into contact with the heavier weapon and clattered harmlessly away. The intent had never been to meet with Django head on, and Darigaaz could see from his opponent's strained disposition that the man now suspected as much. Magic burned away with a soft sizzle from the other man's weapon, the true victim of the wraith's wicked weapon.

Darigaaz stood silently as turgid viscera drooled from his bloated, sickly stomach. The heat within his being seared the wound slowly closed, but the stench smacked of rotten corpse. His blazing eyes considered the other man with malefic intent.

The mystical storm that raged around them shifted, and a blast of icy air rocked the wight's cloaked body. He stalked forward in spite of the elements that fought to waylay him. Darigaaz was a force of nature, no different from the world that stifled him.

Curved and gleaming with malice, the obsidian sword in his grip twisted and rose to point toward his opponent. "For a thousand lifetimes, Sroshar slept," the evil voice burned low, like the embers of a dying fire, "he has a thirst. I will give him your blood."

[Django Firemaw]

"He'll have to find another drink." Django responded through gritted teeth before hoisting the blade up with less effort than he'd previously expressed. He was thankful for his gift in raw physical strength otherwise usage of his weapon would have been impossible after this menace had employed whatever trick he had to impede him.

The abysmal smell originating from what he was more willing to call a creature than a man was pungent and did not fit with the beauty of the surrounding colors. His presence perverted what could have been an entertaining show should it not have been so overwhelming, it almost reminded him of his own acts in performance save for the crowds calling for blood.

He dashed towards the living corpse, keeping both hands on the hilt of his blade and his body hunched lower to support the weight better while also reducing the size of the target he could be. He swiftly removed a hand from the hilt and dug in his back pouch to throw forward a small unassuming bag of cloth. With his wielding hand he swung his blade up from the ground to attempt to drive the blade between Darigaaz second and third rib and to strike the cloth bundle in succession. The strike would cause the bundle to ignite and explode in a blinding flash right in front of Darigaaz.

[Darigaaz]

His adversary darted forward, and Darigaaz bowed his head. In a world of ruined possibilities and shattered dreams, creatures that twisted the living to their malevolent designs reigned surprise. As he loomed over the battlefield like an evil god, Darigaaz watched the raw mistake of a man living on borrowed time as he barreled headlong into the trap.

The brilliant flash crackled and illuminated the room with bright light, which blotted out the brilliant display of colors that still danced high above both combatants. Django's heavy blade pierced flesh and hissed as profane flames raged around its length. The massive heat within the fetid form of Darigaaz billowed outward like a sigh from entry and exit wound.

All the while, his eyes fixed on where the cocksure man had been. Whispers of ancient, primal heat roiled off the black morass that was Darigaaz as his opponent's weapon buried itself in his form up to the hilt. Smoke billowed up around the weapon and reeked of burnt flesh.

Darigaaz reached up with a withered white hand to stroke his enemy's face in an almost tender way. "Your kind has ever been thankless," he hissed as something forgotten and sinister slipped in his mind. His gaze felt harsh and venomous as the flames ripped outward from his own body, now that Django was too close to escape them.

Infernal heat fanned out and seared the world. The shade replaced blinding light with scathing fire that promised to repay the swordsman in kind for every once of damage he'd dealt. "The gift of life was too good for any of you."

[Django Firemaw]

"I can already see you've trancesnded the normal mortal life, my condolences, but you aren't taking me with you." Django said free of his previous mocking and challenging tone, he was genuine in his extending of empathy. The hand they lay upon his face was both cold to the living touch and hot to this man's usual smoldering extent. From the way the soot, smoke, and other bodily products bubbled from his furnace of an interior Django knew it were to even try and escape unharmed he would have to abandon his blade to gain distance, then he'd be short a weapon and even then he would probably still be seared.

Django was not about to fall to the conventional means of wearing him down, he would take the burns but this was not the manner he would perish. He dug his feet into the ground and roared as both hands took hold of the hilt of his blade and attempted to hoist Darigaaz into the air and throw him aside to discard of the thing that was producing the searing pain that snaked its way into his exposed flesh. It chewed through skin and muscle causing his roar of effort to hold Darigaaz aloft to mix in with a bellowing of sheer agony as the fire licked across him. Django's cheeks appeared charred as skin clung to rivulets of muscle that threatened to to rended asunder along with it.

[Darigaaz]

He was about to speak as the man's flesh boiled and the words seemed so sweet, but the roar of effort from his opponent perished the thought. Bloodied and sunken deep onto the other man's blade, the hulking mass of shadow flailed like a rag doll as his opponent whipped the sword round. The blade withdrew from flesh with grim efficiency; it slid back and Darigaaz was jolted and jarred by sheer force.

Django went one way, and Darigaaz the other. The crackle and creak of bones and muscle as the shade hefted himself up from nothing more than a defect pile echoed through the chamber, which had long since gone silent. There were no applause or cheers from the crowd. Everything about this battle felt wrong, from the evil creature to the very nature of the combat itself. There were no victors, only victims.

Slowly, the shadow rose, even as ink sloshed free from his gaping wounds. Smoke still billowed up from them, but the flames merely poured out and cackled hellishly. Without direct intervention, those flaps of flesh would never fuse together. Darigaaz seemed not to notice. If any pain wracked his form, there was no outward indication.

The stomach twisting aroma of burnt flesh rose from both sides of the battle. As Darigaaz moved, he spilled more fluid with each step. His body rocked from side to side at every stride. His opponent's words still echoed in his mind, and with a voice like wildfire, the wraith bellowed.

"Unscathed, are you?"

[Django Firemaw]

Clouds of smoke radiated off of Django's mass, the sizzling of his own flesh being burnt by the remnants of the flame that still clung to him slithered into his ear with all of the deadly precision of a serpent. His digits clung to the shaft of his claymore's hilt with the ferocity of an injured beast on it's death throws unwilling to be the only creature to fall. His head hung low despite the fact that he still felt strength in his muscles and bones however seared they might be. The crowds, they've stopped. They no longer care about the match or the performance he was attempting to put for them with his jests and quips. The silence of a dissatisfied crowd injured him almost as much as the man before him did.

His skin crackled with residue of the fire with the one step he managed to take before his opponent spoke up. "Unscathed, are you?"

Django's laugh ripped through the silence. Bellow after bellow of instinctive laughter poured from him causing some of the audience members to phase back into awareness of the two competitors and wonder if the poor boy had gone mad from the sight of the man torn apart and flayed in front of him.

He raised both massive arms towards the sky to call for the audiences attention. "Gentleman! I have been bested! It is as the pale man says, I made my claim to leave this match without a scuff and he's done quite a number on me, this match goes to your true victor." He points towards Darigaaz with a grin on his face, one that should not be capable of creating with the amount of pain that would be racking though him. "The victor who I never caught the name of, pardon my manners." He asked.

[Darigaaz]

Quietly, Darigaaz tilted his hooded head. The man spoke of defeat, and he hailed the dark creature that still stained the floor with its blood as winner. Beneath the shadowy cowl, both of his eyes slowly shut. Humans never ceased to amaze, when given the capacity to do great things. The difference between glory and tragedy danced a razor's edge.

With a keen hiss, Sroshar crept back into his sheath. Unsated, unsatisfied, and displeased, the black blade whined its last protest with an abrupt "clack." The colors and wild magic that rippled above them began to die away like stars falling from the sky. Brilliant dust scattered from the grand illusion and alighted on Darigaaz's mantle. Cool and gentle like a breeze, the magic churned and seeped into every open wound. Soon enough, they would be gone, but not forgotten.

"Darigaaz," came the soft reply. His voice flickered down as the flames of his rage subsided only slightly. Questions replaced zeal and bogged him down, so close and yet so far from the answers he sought. Each step he took was a new challenge. Every memory regained was another victory. Something had slipped back into his thoughts today, a disjointed whisper that still nagged at his mind. "They called me Darigaaz," he murmured as images from the past danced through his head.

Who "they" were seemed irrelevant; Django had initially missed his name, but he had given it now. He placed a pale hand to his gut and it came away slick. The wight stared at his soupy viscera and watched it drip from his fingers to the ground. Soon, it would fade into memory, and perhaps after that, the same oblivion his own memories had found.

It was a terrible thing, to be forgotten.

"You still draw breath," the faceless creature called across the battlefield. "Consider that a victory in itself." His gaze flicked back to the door he had entered through; white and gray walls painted with murals of warriors and ancient tales of battle ravaged his sight. With two small steps, he began that journey.

[Django Firemaw]

Django rested his claymore on his shoulder awaiting the response of the crowd to declaration of defeat. They were struck for a second incapable of addressing the peculiar end to the competition. It was not until the dancing array of colors and the elements that surfed above the two died down leaving only a healing wind to restore them to the condition at which they entered the battle did they react.

The crowd exploded with cheers for Darigaaz in his victory, his name chanted to hail him as the true victor. The praise not have been for him but it's never about the battle it's about the quality of the performance, their cheers meant that despite the irregularity of the spectacle they'd done enough to make those in attendance satisfied by what they'd just witnessed. That in itself was enough for him.

"Till we meet again Darigaaz. Seems like you've already set yourself on going on to better things." Django said as he paced slowly towards the opposite exit from Darigaaz. He did not know much of anything about the mysterious figure, save from the obvious traits of the undead, but just being able to recount something of himself, meant perhaps a flame of sentience still burned within.

"Hmph, loss, now that's something they wouldn't accept" the weight of his claymore dug into him. It was encumbering nagging feeling but it was not coming from it's newly found weight. Perhaps him and Darigaaz were just as clueless.

[Zook Murnig]

Hotter than Hell (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?28599-Hotter-than-Hell)
Judgment Type: Battle Rubric
Participants: Darigaaz and Django Firemaw

Plot: 10/30 13/30

Story- 4/10 4/10

Darigaaz and Django Honestly, there wasn’t much in the way of a story to this fight. It was a thing that happened. Two dudes showed up to fight, they fought, and both walked away declaring the other, in a way, the winner. It wasn’t dull, but it wasn’t particularly interesting either.

Setting- 3/10 4/10

Darigaaz You established the setting, as the first poster, but you never really interacted with it. You did have a few mentions of the magic escaping from your body causing some weird weather, but none of it affected his actions or his immediate surroundings. Even the temporary blindness brought by Django’s flash bomb was basically ignored.

Django You did better with showing use of setting, but only barely. You continually mentioned how hot it was, and the heat coming off of your opponent, but never actually showed how hot it was. You said Django was sweating, but how did it actually feel against his skin? Was the air thick with humidity, or was it a dry heat? Did it burn his throat and nostrils as he breathed? Did his muscles grow tired from the strain of swinging his sword and darting around in such harsh conditions? Show, don’t tell.

A useful note for both of you is, with almost every action, try to tie in a sense. Sight, sound, and touch will be most common, but occasionally smells or tastes (in certain circumstances) will be useful. Think about what you’re interacting with, the obstacles and boons of those things, and how to incorporate them. It may even give you an edge in combat!

Pacing- 3/10 5/10

Darigaaz It saddens me to say it, but thinking back over the thread, the only posts where you weren’t just standing there, bleeding, and spewing fire, were your first and last couple posts. This was a drag on the story, as there was no progression of events, or even any distinction between them. It was almost as if the whole story was just one big instance of fiery leakage. Taking a more active role in the story will help to remedy this.

Django In contrast, Django’s actions in each post were different, as he took different tacts on fighting Darigaaz. This, however, only meant that the pacing was present, not that it was steady or built excitement. You would have gotten a four here, if not for the somewhat climactic final moments of the fight, and a short but workable resolution.


Character: 5/30 10/30

Communication- 2/10 3/10

Darigaaz You barely spoke, and did not give any effort to other forms of communication, including internal. You mentioned whispers, but never what they said, or the nature of what they said. When he did speak, it was basically just shouting existentialisms that never seemed to mesh with what was going on.

Django Your quips were at times poorly worded, but they were present. One could write off the quips as being part of an awkward character, but you still have a responsibility to make awkwardness entertaining to read, rather than just awkward. Unfortunately, the only fix for this that I can think of is to run your lines past friends whom you can trust to be honest. There were a couple of gems in there, which bumped you up to a four. You should also remember that there are more methods of communication than simply speaking. Body language counts for a lot in this category, as well as helping with your action and persona. After all, actions speak louder than words.

Action- 1/10 3/10

Darigaaz I know, this is a low score here, but I’m going to break it down. As previously mentioned in Pacing, your character basically did little more than stand there and bleed, seep heat, and occasionally use some fire. I think there was a post of you swinging a sword once. Additionally, there was little response to your opponent’s actions, to the point where as he swung again and again at Darigaaz, you just stood there and let him slice you open. There wasn’t much action to speak of, which netted you a pretty low score here as-is.

Then there’s the power gaming. You used an ability that is specifically marked as “locked” in your profile. That is against the rules here on Althanas, and while there’s a little leeway in quests (particularly if you request that ability as a spoil at the end of the thread), we don’t mess around with it in battles. This is because battles are intended to be, IC, character vs. character, with defined capabilities as listed in your profile. We balance profiles in the Realm of Greeting almost entirely around PvP battles. In this particular instance, you caught Django in a moment when he was vulnerable, and used what would have been, under normal circumstances, a good ability for that moment. Exuding flame all around yourself, while it could at a stretch have been your other fire ability, read almost word-for-word as the outline of your locked Cataclysm ability. Do not do this again.

Django You were an active, very active, participant in this fight. You charged, got thrown back by your opponent’s attack, leaped around the battlefield, and even demonstrated what your character wished he could do but can’t, like one-handed fighting with that huge sword. However, you told me what your character did, rather than showing it. Much like with Setting, “Show, Don’t Tell” applies heavily in Action. How did it feel to be leaping around in the heat? Did the sand shift under your feet, making it hard to gain a purchase to push off from? Tie in a sensation to almost everything you do, as an exercise next thread. That will help you get a feel for this technique. Acting things out, either in your head, in your chair, or all over your living room, helps a lot, too. My wife thinks I’m nuts when I’m writing a battle post, but it can help you get your head around the mechanics of what you’re doing. Reading the work of others can help you get an idea of this, too, whether on this site or in a published work. For this, try something with a gritty action feel to it.

A note related to your abilities, as well: I know your profile says that you have enhanced strength and endurance, but remember that it’s not a blank check to use them. Abilities are there as a definition of what you’re capable of, but it’s up to you to impart upon your reader in the narrative what you can do. Don’t just mention the heat and sweating. Talk about how much your muscles ache and your head swims from the exertion, but you press on anyway because you’re TOUGH AS NAILS, SON. Show your character hefting the unwieldy weight of the claymore, because no matter how strong he is, he still has to deal with physics and mechanics. You didn’t overplay the abilities, so you didn’t get severely docked, but it didn’t win you anything either. Remember that abilities are narrative opportunities, even attribute boosts.

And a quick warning. You were determined through most of this battle not to get a scratch, and you went to some major lengths to keep to it. It was borderline power gaming, and if you’d gone any farther I would have had to dock you for it.

Persona- 2/10 4/10

Darigaaz I learned almost nothing about your character in this thread. Battles can seem like a terrible place to show character development, but it’s quite to the contrary. In combat, your character will make decisions according to their values and goals, and will usually be hard-pressed to make those decisions as quickly as possible. Darigaaz made no decisions like that, except to stand there and take it. What I take from that is “I don’t care.” But if he doesn’t care, why is he there, in the Citadel? You mentioned voices in his head, but never what they said, or even allusions to the types of things they said. Your character doesn’t remember anything about himself, but even someone with no memories will have values to guide their actions. All in all, this character read as very flat, existing only to not care about anything, and simultaneously want to passively destroy everything. Not a compelling character.

Looking at your profile, I see that your history is blank. I see these same problems a lot with characters that specifically have no history written. Often, it’s because the writer hasn’t decided, or thinks that their history doesn’t matter. Whether you make it public in his profile or not, I suggest you look into Darigaaz’s past and consider how they will shape his present and future, tool of a dark elder god of fire or no.

Django In contrast, I got a pretty good feel for Django in this thread, and I was surprised by what I found. I was surprised, however, in that I had expected him to read as a brutish and direct warrior, instead of an agile and quick-witted tactician. However, aside from the one mention of being a bastard, nothing really stood out as memorable compared to similar characters of the type. His goals were clear, and they informed his decisions and style, but you need to work out what specifically makes Django different from other agile swordsmen. The bastard origins are a good start, from which you can pull ideas and look into how he was affected by that status and title. Is he ashamed of his illegitimacy, or does he wear it as a badge of honor that he’s not like his snobbish kin? Or does he try to prove himself to his sire, hoping to earn legitimacy for himself by virtue of his strength at arms?

And a special shout out for the “frightening son of a bitch” line. I genuinely laughed at that.


Prose: 14/30 12/30

Mechanics- 6/10 4/10

Darigaaz This is a strength for you, but only because you did not make any blatant errors beyond minor misspellings and typos. Your use of passive description, however, is troubling. See Technique.

Django You had quite a few misspelled words, some of which were actual words, but not the ones you obviously meant to use. Spellcheck will overlook homophones, and sometimes assign the wrong version of a word to a misspelled word. Thay can become that instead of they (which my autocorrect just did to me as I typed it). Rereading your posts, especially aloud, can help with this. There were also dropped words, probably the result of quick edits as you wrote or your hands not keeping up with your head as you had a rapid-fire idea. Rereading aloud will help even more with these, as you will stumble on these sections.

Technique- 3/10 3/10

Darigaaz Passive description, with narrative distance between your character and their anatomy, is a big problem for you. This is when, according to the narrative, your body is doing things instead of the character doing them. Naked feet walk on the sand, instead of the character walking on the sand, their naked feet feeling the scorch of the sand shifting beneath. Burning slits peering out at the opponent, rather than the character peering through narrowed eyes full of barely contained fury and fire. This does two major things: It robs your character of agency, or control over what they do and what is done to them; and it puts distance between your character and your reader. This hurt Action and Persona, as well, but the biggest hit for this goes to Technique, which is why I haven’t mentioned it until now.

I should mention that it can be a useful narrative device for when your character truly has no control or agency over the events surrounding them. When their feet walk without their intent or consent. When they are mind-controlled, or under some other kind of enchantment. When they feel removed from themselves by shock or concussion. These are all great times to use this kind of descriptive technique, but do so sparingly lest you run into the problem you had here.

Aside from this, you also made few attempts at other literary devices or techniques. Play on words, alliteration, unusual sentence structure, and even rhyming, are techniques. They not only spice up your writing and make it more interesting, it means taking risks that can pay off in other categories (such as Mechanics above), and often can make actually writing more enjoyable in the moment. And when you’re enjoying what you’re writing, you will tend to write better.

Django
He was no longer about to wait for formalities he knew why he was here but before falling into his power stance, he bowed before hie opponent and readied himself. he was eager to see the power this people were so gun ho to see, to say the least.

This kind of set the tone for your posts, taken from your opening. This kind of over description, while it improved as the thread went forward, takes your reader out of the narrative. This goes double for a fast-paced combat atmosphere. If your reader has to trudge through and parse long convoluted sentences like this in a fight, it’s not fast-paced anymore. Your mechanical problems hurt you here, as well. I’ll give you one more example before I move on to the next category:


Thankfully Django had shielded his eyes into time to avoid the brunt of the disorientating effects of the amazing light and force that bore a hole in the space that separated them.

Here, this could have been shortened down to “Thankfully Django had shielded his eyes from the amazing light, which bore a hole in the space between them.” This used your words, but fewer of them to similar effect. It can be tempting to build out sentences with extra words to make it look like more is happening, but it can become burdensome to read and takes away from the punchiness of the actions. Additionally, I’ll remind you to “Show, Don’t Tell,” as that has a big effect in Technique, as well.

Clarity- 5/10 5/10

Darigaaz Your posts were almost always clear as to what was happening, except when it came to your magic. There was one post that finished with you sweeping your sword at Django, limned in white-hot fire, and I almost docked you for power gaming there, too. It wasn’t until your next post that I realized you were using your magic-nullifying ability. Not only did it make me confused about what was happening, if Django had taken offense at that he could easily have accused you of power gaming mid-fight, before you could explain the ability in your next post. Other effects of magic escaping your wraith-form were unclear, and I wasn’t sure whether to call you on them, either. Be careful.

Django Your posts were pretty clear, but with an excess of information it was difficult to parse out the important bits from the fluff. Your clarity was also damaged by your mechanical errors, particularly when words were missing.


Wild Card: 5/10 5/10

Final Score: 34/100 40/100

DJANGO FIREMAW WINS

Darigaaz receives 150 EXP and 27 GP
Django Firemaw receives 475 EXP and 54 GP

Contact me via PM if you have any questions.