[The Osiris Open] Round 1: Philomel vs Redford

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Opens 1st June 2016 at 12am EST.

Arena to follow!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Karak

Diary of Lufenia - 1st May

The village that I had been raised in…I always remember it being a quaint little place. Karak was hardly ever going to make a dent in the stooping tapestry of Althanian history, after all. Even up to its destruction in the Castigar war, it was always the farms that provided for the village’s faltering economy and the clans that once sustained and protected this small village had long since disbanded and scattered for pastures new.

Isolated as it was and surrounded by so much barren wilderness, the husk of this small time settlement really was the perfect place for those seeking a challenge to fight un-noticed and unhindered. Illegal gladiatorial deathmatches are commonplace here now – the collection of concrete and timber shells that once used to be buildings attracting a gathering that would always mainly be ignored or overlooked by the authorities it was so small.

As I tread softly through the old square I avert the gaze of a group of young warriors huddled together, waiting for the next fight. I try to remember the faces of the portraits of our ancestors that hung in the village hall. Those people who, in older times, kept a vision in their hearts of a united Althanas; of peace.

Now this once harmonious town is a sprawling expanse of burnt out houses dominated by a debris strewn village square. It used to include a mayor's office and even a dainty chapel, with a single tavern and a village marketplace. Now, in the midst of the destruction, it is all very quaint and slightly eerie.

I trod over frosted cobblestone in lieu of the hard-packed snow-and-dirt roads that I grew up with. There were two- and three-floor houses crumbling into the streets, and just so many of them now that you could no longer see any of the horizon behind the town. Only the chapel spire remained close to what I remember - and even that was only because it had been elevated to stand out above the rest of the broken stone chunks it was now linked to.

As I walk to the edge of town, I see the Red Dragon clan’s old fortress on the crest of the hill. I mutter that old Red Dragon motto to myself as I leave this sad vessel of a place behind me and try to remember a better life.

“For honour, dignity and respect…”

[Philomel]

Many months ago they had passed by this village, and it was how she rememered it.

An old village, cast down and destroyed after some battle before her glory days dressed in ashy grey and ancient rust brown. A spire dominated the overcast skyline, as the lone survivor of this town's desecration. No building it seemed had survived, yet still there was life.

Creatures huddled by the desceased buildings, which on closer inspection proved to be humanoid, and they gazed at Philomel van der Aart with desperate eyes. Looking at them with only an attitude of non-chalant the faun Matriarch passed on by, on hoof and silent. She continued onwards into the village of dust and sorrow, down the mud-ridden street, closely followed by her fox companion. Together they strode past the hopeless, rememering the brief time they had been here and simply dismissed it as unimportant.

And how she was right.

This place hosted death-games apparently, she discovered by the mutterings of the humanoids. There was no other despondant sport as it, and only the truly forlorn came here to try their last attempt at glory. Philomel wondered why, then, she had been told to come here to meet her foe. For surely as bloody as the next hour would be, it was not in desperation that she fought. The differences between these shivering creatures and her company were vast, innumerable even, and for a moment she could not even comprehend it.

But then, that was simply life. That was simply existence. She had absolutely no fear that she would ever become that futile in self-belief that she would commit herself to the horror of death-games.

Eyes glanced, finally, away. And the faun breathed in, slowly. Sensing no direct threat she closed her eyes, taking in the stale air before beginning her concentration. For the time, and the place, it seemed appropriate to don herself in her greatest battle gear, as momentous as this battle was to be, and thus she gently removed her corset and gaunlets, and, finally, her shoulder guard. Placing these on the ground she let the rush of the earth magic come into her - the very essence of her existence itself. Nature was given precendence and her skin began to bubble and harden. Muscles stretched, bones lengthened, the body strengthened and her face began to enlong. One moment she was a faun, and the next she was a beast, filled with all the rage of Drys, her gorgeous beloved goddess.

When her opponent would get there, he would see a monster. Six foot three, with muscles toned and bigger than any human could cope, standing on tree-trunk legs, adorned in thick hair. Brown and rough crimson it had silver eyes and a full goat face, naked but armed to the horn.

[redford]

I took Philomel's form in this post to be from Terribly Monstrous: Raging State. Let me know if I need to change it.

John mused in the shadow of The Spire, or so they called it here. He sat nestled in an alcove of the crumbling walls, waiting for his opponent, the only indication of his presence the faint wisp of cigar smoke and a slightly glowing ember, shrouded by shadow. The crumbling courtyard of a church stretched before him, only fragments of the surrounding walls remained standing. A thin layer of frost coated the stone floor of it, and slightly obscured the worn stone patterning that could have been beautiful at one time. He breathed out smoke and steam into the chilled air.

The Spire had been around for as long as John had been exiled from his homeland. It was a place the desperate went, it was a place the hopeless went.

And it was a place John went.

He told himself yet again that when he came, so soon after the murder of his wife and daughter, that he had simply given up, but his self-given consolation did not hold. He knew what drew him. All had been taken from him in those days, all except his strength. So he came and fought in the death-games, knowing that if his strength ever failed him, he would die. His gaze turned upwards, pinpointing the sun as a bright halo upon the clouds.

Strength was all I had back then, he thought, picturing Jamie in his mind for a moment. He hadn't seen this husk of a place since meeting her. John thought that perhaps she meant more to him than he was willing to admit, but quickly shook her image from his head, locking his feelings in a box.

People close to him always ended up destroyed.

John thought for the hundredth time that he hated this place, that it only reminded him of what he lost, and his anger and desperation to hold on to what was left of humanity. Perhaps he had lost more of it here than he held on to.

But such thoughts tended to sicken the mind, and John instead focused on his opponent, wondering when he would show, or indeed if he would brave the place at all.

An approaching figure snapped him from his thoughts, emerging from behind a wall into the courtyard. He recognized it as a faun, and his eyebrows narrowed as he recognized it as the only faun he knew in all Althanas.

Philomel, matriarch at the Black Rose, is here to fight me?

It was definitely odd to see the matron of a whorehouse come to fight here of all places. If she saw him, she gave no indication thereof, though he was well-hidden in a shadowed cleft of the wall. His surprise and confusion deepened as she took off her armor and transformed, muscles growing and her form becoming monstrous. She, if it was a she in this state, seemed more fearsome minotaur than faun.

Surprising, but not quite frightening, John thought, drawing up to his full height of nigh eight feet in the shadows, grabbing his massive Dehlar tower shield. She was still smaller, and perhaps weaker than he.

Though he would be acting cautiously until he knew that. The armor on his forearm grew fast to the shield, anchoring him to it as he stepped out into the courtyard. Armor made of liquid metal flowed up, covering his entire form from head to toe.

Hopefully Philomel wouldn’t recognize him. He didn’t want any bad blood at the Rose.

The half-giant crouched a little, seeing her form with silvery eyes and holding the tower shield between them.

[Philomel]

Philomel saw the giant of the man emerging from the sorrow of the ruined village. He came like a glacier into a valley, pushing all other existence aside, all other inhabitants of this backwater place. Certainly tall he fit his description well, with some form of mighty shimmering metal covering half his torso. She faced him, a naked but haired monster, with the wicked face of a demonesque villain and hooves the size of his hands.

She opened her mouth to speak and only a roaring, challenging bleat came out. It was horrific and terrifying, though domestic farmyard in style, thundering through the brickwork so that the haunted faces of the death-games partakers ended up turning once more to stare. Steam rolled from her nostrils as she lowered herself, and she drew out her mighty sword in hand, the white of the blade shimmering under the grey sky. Grey clouds for a grey day with a grey essence of a grey world and a bloody red battle to come.

As the challenging bellow fell to nought it became clear the giant was still taller than her. But it mattered little. Philomel crouched herself even lower, eyes dancing with the deep green of intelligence beneath the bestial exterior, getting ready. Sending her awareness into the earth she felt no tricks, at least not yet, in his company and thus she prepared herself with what she knew from his weight and impact of the earth itself. He would be strong, that was clear. And defensive. And those she might find it hard to be able to conquer. Else it was unknown what magics he possessed, only that he had no followers and no secret weapons.

She considered for a moment before huffing out another breath and nodding. Somewhere, nearby, Veridian Ryuusan waited in repose to come to her aid when she might need, and Delath her dragon was cooking through the earth beneath her hooves. Her tera'k currently trudged his way freely but soon he would be running.

Running as she took the final step to bring the distance between her form and the giant man close enough. As she raised her hoof a sort of recognition.... remembrance came to her of this man, but then who didnt she know. What warrior had not met her in battle, whether field or bed.

Somewhere. Sometime. She'd ask him later. For now - hoof. Enraging state. War.

Slamming it down she sent single earth shock through the rock and road, straight at him, violently shaking the world to get this battle begun.

A sudden, thin but devastating crack appeared between them - and her sword rose. Shoulder was faced forwards, every muscle tensed and put on guard, ready for the brawl of a summer.

[redford]

She bellowed, sending reverberations through the courtyard. Any onlookers took steps back, not wishing to become part of their impending clash. Her cry fell to silence as John exerted his will on the magical armor that coated him, forming three-inch studs at his knuckles of his right hand.

The half-giant crouched, holding the massive shield in front of him. He had sized her up while hidden, now she would do the same. A moment of deathly silence passed as Philomel looked him up and down. If she was afraid, she did not show it, though their battle was still young. Her eyes, though animalistic, bore intelligence beyond their form; her eyes studying him keenly.

She held the sword with a practiced, calm hand in the face of danger. She knows how to wield it, John thought, knowing he had to close the distance between them lest her swordsmanship endanger him. Her hoof raised and John slid his foot back a few inches, bracing for a charge.

Instead of a charge, though, her hoof cracked the earth with the sound of thunder, shaking the earth below him. Were it any stronger, and John any lighter, it would have knocked him over, but the half-giant crouched a little lower, allowing the movement of the earth to move with his legs, sparing him any serious harm.

Magic....

Now he had to close the distance even faster. Even with his newfound abilities, magic was a danger to him, especially at any kind of range. That changed things. He cursed in his head and switched tactics, remembering the words of Tazok, an old mentor of unarmed fighting.

"You have this armor and shield, but the person who hits first usually wins, hm?"

The half-giant heeded the old man's advice and swung his left arm up, disconnecting armor from shield and throwing the bulwark at his opponent. He quickly pushed off with his back foot. The shield was a ruse, a means to get him closer to his target. He aimed to follow and meet her at the end of her dodge with a fist. John could not help the smirk that formed on his metal lips as he rushed her.

[Philomel]

Regarding the shield coming towards her, Philomel had mere seconds. It seemed her earth shatter had barely been a note in what she hoped would become the melodic but terrifying sung lament of his defeat. Barely did the giant of the man seem affected by it. He crouched, moved, and came as a storm towards her.

There was a tower shield, that seemed to literally grow from his arm like a branch might from a tree. Launched towards her it was somewhat thrust as a weapon, heading in all its large size to her thick torso and leg. Deftly, baring all the quadruple speed she could, she dodged, pulling the full bulk of her chimaera form with her and she -

Thwunk.

Heavy fist, straight to the abdomen. Unexpected, unavoidable, the weight of a mountain behind. She doubled over, then collapsed backwards, having not at all seen the hidden thump behind the giant shield. Grounded, she gritted her teeth and began to scream in fury as she let the truly enraged state take over. No sooner had she been hit, than she let it all take over, and her transformation began before the other combatant could swing his hand back again.

Not that she knew if he did - or did not. Something else was waiting for him after all. Sulking in the shadows until now, the secret fox whom had until this been like a mostly unmentioned character, burst forth.

With fur on fire, eyes ablaze and the size of a dire wolf, Veridian threw himself at the giant, jaws agape, the saviour of his mutating beloved.

[redford]

John prepared to follow up his cratering blow to the faun-turned-beast, aiming to end the fight quickly. However, as she landed on the ground, her flesh burst outward, much like it had during her first transformation. He hesitated, wondering just how many different forms she had. His mind raced.

Better to end this quickly, before I've-, his thoughts were cut short by lancing, burning pain in his forearm. He jerked his arm up, pulling a direfox made of fire up with it. Its teeth had pierced his armor, and dug into his flesh and muscle. John growled, acting quickly, he only had a few seconds before the faun transformed again.

The half-giant swung his arm down, flinging the fox from his arm and to the ground, his armor already reforming over the holes in his flesh, sealing the bleed but not healing the breach. He pivoted on his right foot, bringing his left back and aiming a vicious kick at the fox. He aimed to crater the faun's pet into one of the broken walls of the courtyard, then turn his focus back to the faun, or whatever she decided to mutate into next.

[Philomel]

She heard the sorry collapse of her darling beloved, and it only fueled her anger more. As she cried out, both physically in a terrifying hellish bleat, and mentally to him, her bones shattered and her muscles ripped. They reconstructed herself once more in a few seconds - but seconds are precious in the game of war. Horns blossomed greater and large hands clumbed fingers hard together to form hard-headed hooves. It was painful, so excruciating that were so not used to this the usual person would die. Perhaps, it was a form of death, going from one beast to the next, and the next, screaming out to the full status of her Nature.

Albeit, she saw him turn but she was not finished. As Veridian, the fox on fire, ready to burn the cities of the many kingdoms vivid and hidden, was thrust by the giant mountain man aside, the last companion of this trinity began to come into play.

The ground one more shook, but softer. Veridian was suffering, but not dying, bruised and back into his simple form. Philomel was now near a full dire mountain goat, bleating out in a devilish manner to struggle back from the giant, ready to begin the final bought.

Oh yes the ground shook, right beneath the feet of the opponent. But it was not a quake, it was a thunder, and it threatened a thing right from the earth. Cracks began to appear as Philomel the goat prepared for a horned frontal assault, to join with the last of their party's major attack.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Judgment: Osiris Open rubric

Combat

Philomel: 18 / 30

You earned points in strategy for opening the fight in your enraged form, which to me signified recognition that fighting a beast of a man like John would require something a little more ‘brute force’ than your standard Faun. Despite not being able to see the effects of your further enraged form near the end of the battle, you also got credit here for trying to keep John pinned down by attacks from both Veridian and an attempted attack by Delath, which constituted an intelligent use of the familiars available to you.

Sadly, the battle didn’t continue long enough for you to maximise your score in the resourcefulness department, but I feel inclined to give you credit for having Delath tunnelling under the road to get himself below John’s position. This displayed, at least, an intention to use the setting. Otherwise, this category scored average.

I felt that you took John’s first punch well. Realistically, it would have been very difficult to avoid the attack and for that reason I give you credit in execution. Your tactics seemed to be gaining you precious time to get through your transformations and, for the most part, they seemed to be working. The only thing that hurt your score for execution was a lack of a definitive conclusion but I suspect that will be the case for most of the fights in this tournament.


Redford: 16 / 30

Being the brawler that John is, it was vital for you in this battle to strategise and reign in the advantages that Philomel had over John. I thought your opening gambit with the shield toss followed by that crippling punch was superb and just the sort of thing I would expect from a close combat orientated fighter. It was, however, a shame that the battle hadn’t progressed further as I felt that there could have been a lot more to come from John in this department.

Sadly, just as above, the battle didn’t continue long enough for you to get foundations for a good score in resourcefulness. Unlike Philomel, you didn’t really utilise any of the setting in the battle itself which hurt your score. Given a bit more time I’m sure you would have given me more to work with, so you are quite unfortunate here.

In the same way that I scored Philomel points for taking your attack, I also awarded you points here for the damage you inflicted on her and Veridian. John recognised the threat Philomel’s magic posed instantly and set about closing the distance. You used your liquid armour well, utilising it effectively to cover your wound and also create the shield that distracted Philomel. Again, the only issue was a lack of conclusion due to time constraints.

Character


Philomel: 18 / 30

Though the flavour text explained the way Philomel was feeling and conveyed her emotions well, there was very little to go by in the way of actual communication. I did, however, give you credit for the enraged bleating and aggressive body language that accompanied her monstrous form as that does communicate her rage and warlike state. I felt though that, at times, it would have been nice to see flecks of internal thought where dialogue wasn’t possible.

I felt the action that Philomel provided was very good indeed. I never sat there and thought that anything she did was inappropriate to her character - in fact, quite the opposite. We got to see a much more aggressive, violent side to Philomel through her transformations that was relevant to both her opponent, the battle itself and the temperament of the mutated Faun. The stomping hooves and snorting particularly stood out and her utilisation of her abilities were very in character, with her attachment to and use of Veridian particularly noted. Well done.


Redford: 19 / 30

Though John is known for being a bit of a ‘silent type’, I felt that you did a good job in relating his internal musings to the reader. You provide short, occasional and appropriate insights into the thought processes in John’s mind and communicated his feelings and reactions well. Whilst effective, it would however be nice to see more in those lines of thought.

As with Philomel, I felt the action that applied to John was also superb and quite appropriate to the character. The small thought processes that led shifting in tactics aligned well with what I would expect of a fighter of John’s calibre, and as usual the man came across as exactly what we have come to expect of him – a human freight train. He silently went about his business and never bored the reader. Good work.

Prose

Philomel: 19 / 30

Most of the marks you lost on mechanics relate to your first post – there were numerous spelling mistakes (“rememered” instead of remembered being a repeat offender) that should have been picked up on a basic spellcheck. Later on, there are a lot fewer mistakes (with perhaps one or two grammatical problems) so I can only assume your first post was done in a bit of a rush. Otherwise, the rest of your work was fairly solid.

Where you failed a little in mechanics, you make up for exponentially in technique. As examples, your description of the by-standers and the feelings about the death games in your opening post really set the tone and gave the town a miserable, lonely feeling that the reader could attach to, and the way you also describe Philomel in her enraged form caught my attention (“She opened her mouth to speak and only a roaring, challenging bleat came out. It was horrific and terrifying, though domestic farmyard in style, thundering through the brickwork so that the haunted faces of the death-games partakers ended up turning once more to stare. Steam rolled from her nostrils as she lowered herself, and she drew out her mighty sword in hand, the white of the blade shimmering under the grey sky.”). I do have to say, though, the “domestic farmyard in style” part I felt detracted a bit from the intimidating nature you were trying to portray. Nevertheless, you use literary devices well throughout your battle to add splashes of colour to your work.

Your clarity was quite good, but I did struggle to figure out where you and John were in relation to the other buildings in the town. Also there was a moment in your final post where you alluded to an attack by Delath and I had to re-read it to realise it was him you were talking about, but that might have been more to do with me speed reading.


Redford: 19 / 30

There was actually very little mechanically wrong with your posts. Spelling was spot on and other than one or two grammatical slip-ups your writing was solid. Not much more to say here. Well done.

I have to say you are much improved on technique compared to previous judgments I have done for you and for that I offer my congratulations. Your use of your own literary devices to paint a picture of a desperate and lonely town are good and I especially like the way that you linked that feeling into a bit of John’s past (“John thought for the hundredth time that he hated this place, that it only reminded him of what he lost, and his anger and desperation to hold on to what was left of humanity. Perhaps he had lost more of it here than he held on to.”) as it put power into your words and offered insight into his bleak world and that of his surroundings. My only issue with your writing in this area is that the longer your battles tend to go on, the less consistent you are with your technique. Your posts shorten and you lose that edge that you started so strongly with, so that’s something to bear in mind for the future because I could have scored you as high as Philomel if you had carried that through.

One of your strengths is your clarity, which I couldn’t really fault. My only small gripe was that I couldn’t figure out where exactly you were in relation to the other buildings in the town but I suffered the same with Philomel to a degree.

Wildcard


Philomel: 6
Redford : 6

Despite the lack of a conclusion, I thought you both did well with the time you had and at least made big inroads into making it an interesting battle. Well done!

Final scores and rewards


Philomel: 61/100
Redford: 60/100

Philomel advances!

In accordance with Osiris Open rubric, both contestants receive rewards based on a score of 65. Redford's GP is forfeited to the tournament pot!

Philomel receives 625 EXP and 55 GP!

Redford receives 420 EXP and forfeits 40 GP to the tournament pot!

Congratulations!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All rewards added!