[The Osiris Open] Round 2: Storm Veritas vs JDD2035

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Round two begins at 12am EST on Saturday 25th June!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The Crucible

The Crucible was a magnificent structure indeed. The books from the Cartographer described it as a late century Raiaeran church that served as the cathedral of the Martinique, an Elven sect that was wiped out during Xem’Zund’s campaign. The reconstruction of the cathedral began after Pode’s defeat. Due to the damage that plagued this wonderful building in Raiaera over the years, I read that the current structure was rebuilt with an iron frame in order to withstand any further calamities.

When I arrived in Raiaera, I realised quickly that the loss of significant buildings had not been uncommon. Devastating disasters frequently plagued the region that The Crucible resided in and the corpse war had been the latest of these calamities to happen to the high elves. The cathedral that immediately preceded the present one was destroyed by fire, a disaster that also obliterated three-quarters of the town of Riisa that the Crucible bordered.

As I arrived at the site of this piece of Raiaeran heritage, I noticed that the iron cathedral had undergone an extensive program of restoration and refurbishment which remained faithful to its original design. The Crucible was built in a gothic revival style, with rounded arches in a neo-Romanesque style. The cathedral's façade featured a steeple that rose a hundred and eighty seven feet above the town of Riisa while its exterior walls were supported by flying buttresses. Located in front of the cathedral was a small square that contained two royal palms which appeared to flank the structure.

As I strolled inside, shooting my gaze in awe around the interior of the landmark, I noticed that the entire structure had a frame of iron beams which supported the walls, ceiling and steeple, making the church a fine example of architecture that would have looked more at home in Alerar than Raiaera. The interior of the church was noted for its grand organ, ornate walls, beautiful stained glass windows and balustrade made of iron. Located underneath the choir loft was a crypt containing the tombs of several previous governors of the Martinique sect. I didn’t go down there, but I imagined it to be quite incredible to behold.

As I left the building, I pondered; were the Raiaerans so much different to their Alerar counterparts after all?

[Storm Veritas]

Religion was a bit of an abstract concept to Storm Veritas, and as an outsider to the realm of godly worship, he found the whole environment wildly entertaining. The money seemed to come in flush enough; loads of poor idiots marching in every week to dump out their pockets for some charlatan slinging hopes and dreams to the masses on the back of ancient books. Entering the old church late in the evening, it was a very different experience; there was nothing amateurish about this place.

Everything about the great church was an earth-shaker for the electromancer; from the towering spires and gothic architecture to the spare-no-expense marble pillars and hand-carved redwood pews that filled the great Cathedral for its weekend forays. The great church here in the high woods of Corone had been nicknamed “The Crucible” as it was nearly entirely stone and marble within; like an alchemist’s tool the experienced veteran wagered this place could laugh at the hottest of fires with its ancient stone and steel construction.

Definitely an odd place for a dance, but I suppose that shit will settle itself out.

In truth, he wasn’t sure precisely why he had been summoned to meet here, in a hastily written note handed to him by an old friend. If his point man had sent him here, there must have been damned good reason for such a summons. With the hot sun dropping quickly over the western horizon, Corone was about to go from steamy to brutally cold. Knowing this, Storm welcomed the warm, dry house of worship if for nothing more than a fine place of shelter.

“Hello!? Anyone around?” his words echoed back almost immediately within the great empty room. From inside, the great structure seemed at least four stories high, and nearly one hundred yards long. There were none to be seen, but the flickering torches tethered to the marble pillars and penetrating fragrance of burning incense stung his nose. Someone was here.

Someone is watching.

A great fearlessness had developed in the wizard in his travels. Brushes with death left him with a feeling that he floated by on borrowed time anyway; there was no reason for him to be too cautious in such an absurd and reckless world. “Fortune favors the bold” they said, and few were bolder nor luckier than Storm Veritas. He lifted his empty hands above his head as he strolled down the center aisle, splitting the church in twain as he continued to speak.

“Storm Veritas here; was sent here from a friend, a man named Marcus. I come in peace, I hope…” His deep, smooth voice articulated a learnedness that was exaggerated from time to time.

There was no response, only an even echo of footsteps as his finely crafted wood heels struck marble as he continued to stride. Deeply set crystal blue eyes shot glances about the room, each flickering shadow a movement in his periphery that represented new danger.

He reached the altar, a massive slab of smooth polished marble placed elegantly atop two great pillars of granite. It was nearly four feet high and eight feet wide, the great holy table covered in a thick, elegant tapestry. It also looked like a very comfortable, if firm bed following a long day. Of course, he knew better than to let his guard down so quickly, as he pilfered a pipe from his satchel.

Suit yourselves, I can wait…

A tuft of thin white smoke burst from the cherry colored bowl before his lips moments later as the smooth, wonderful burn of tobacco filled his lungs. He laughed to himself as he looked out upon the abandoned congregation, imagining the mighty sermons he could deliver upon the fellowships of the gullible.

[jdd2035]

Cain was about to commit to the finishing blow against his previous opponent when all of a sudden his arena faded out and he found himself back in the hall of the citadel. His time was up and he felt disappointed at the fact that he had won by default. How ever the proctors had set up another fight. The Captains wounds were healed and equipment restored before he was ushered to another door of swirling tap.

He was ushered into a most unusual battle ground. Sacred ground a church even, Cain took his tricorn off for a moment as he passed into the grounds proper treating such things with as much respect as his ships own quarterdeck. Replacing his hat he let his eyes scan the area looking for his opponent. His eyes had caught the flash of a match and the burning cherry of some one smoking through an open stained glass window...Sloppy, sloppy the smell will let any one know that you were there and the cherry made a fantastic target.

~IS this a caper to amuse me to lure me in for close combat?~ Cain thought, but no that couldn't be it, no one could be stupid enough to try to amuse an opponent in the citadel every one knew that this was for friendly competition after all. Or to safely test their limits or what ever either way you were their to fight.

No, this caper would not work on Cain, "I smoked you! Fill your hands!" Cain shouted he pulled his pistols he aimed for the bright red cherry in the darkness of the interior of the church. He fired both of his pistols at his opponents head. He didn't wait to see if his shots hit and made a beeline for the steeple door.

[Storm Veritas]

The quiet didn’t last long for Storm; the smooth and sharpening buzz of the tobacco cut through flatly by some shouting maniac. His hawkish eyes caught a sharp contrast in the church; it was a soldierly sort charging towards him with pistols. The forward lean and drawn weapons were unmistakable, and Storm instinctively rolled backwards off the altar.

So much for introductions…

He landed in a crouch behind one of the massive support pillars that hefted the great slab, listening to the rapid cracks of bullets taking root. One exploded harmlessly above the altar, whereas another split the mighty slab of granite, a fragment entering the magician’s right shoulder like a small knife. His dress vest and shirt parted like warm butter as his flesh seemed to welcome another cursed injury. The pain was white hot, and his instinct to remove the shard was overruled by rockets of pain rifling to his fingertips at the faintest touch; the piece of stone had lodged against a nerve. He pressed his back against the pillar as he observed his pipe on the stone floor beneath the altar, the bowl cracked and dried leaves spilled harmlessly.

Not again with the pipe… Goddamned guns. It’s never f*cking easy.

Firearms were a problem for Storm Veritas; or at least the bullets were. His electromagnetic fields could do all sorts of fun things to guns; he could bend firing pins, collapse barrels, and break the trigger mechanisms altogether if he were able to move close enough. Bullets, however, proposed a unique problem. Bullets were uniquely composed of some bizarre material that the alchemists called “lead”. These lead-wrapped things sailed right through any field he could put in front of them. It felt like bullets cheated his magic.

Fortunately for the dapper-dressed villain, the church wasn’t so big that it offered much shelter from his big guns, either. He rolled over his left leg, catching eye of the sailor darting towards a door. If he could bring the steeple down upon this bullet-blasting monster, then he’d be able to get his shoulder patched before the local patrols caught wind of the conflict in the famous church.

He smirked as he popped up to a knee, firing a single blast of electric energy. The blue-tinged white plasma arced from his fingertips to the support beam above the threshold to stairs beneath the steeple. He yelled loudly across the expanse of the newly minted arena as he unleashed his first volley, ever the gentlemen.

“Good evening to you, too, dickhead.”

[jdd2035]

"And a fine evening it is!" Cain shouted back as he dove for the cover of the cathedral door the blue bolts of plasma leaping through the iron frame of the cathedral and right into his leg. There was pain like you would not believe and every muscle in his leg from his but down to his toes then it all felt like it does when your leg fell asleep. His leg was numb and Cain wondered how long it would stay that way as he thumped on it.

Thoughts and memories ran through the Captains head of lightning striking a mast that was stepped with iron mast rings and how it would arc and roll down the mast jumping from one piece of iron to the next causing people to get hurt, cannons to go off one their own, and powder stores to erupt. And Cain was carrying a long piece of iron. How could he exploit that.

The lightning arced up the bell-free sending one of the large church bells crashing down through the stairs. So much for Cains plan of scrambling up it and attacking from above. At least until Cain found the rope that sent the bells ringing. He would have to look later right now survival was in continuing to move.

Thumping his leg one last time he loaded another round into his pistol. Pistol in his left hand harpoon in his right he stepped around. He first threw his harpoon a large flying chunk of iron one direction creating a kind of lightning rod. He went the other and waited for his opponent to come into a line of sight. It was a gambit and all gambits had their risks. On the plus side though Cain was gaining feeling in his leg again.

[Storm Veritas]

The explosion within the church was mighty; Storm was unable to kill the intruder but certainly stopped him from climbing to a spot that would allow him a vantage point to cherry pick, taking easy shots at him from those abominable guns. It was a chain reaction he had set off, the lightning pulsing through the shell of the bell tower and loosing the bell and knocker from their tethers, sending the half-ton bell screaming down and tearing away the wooden steps below like a bear stumbling through cobwebs. They all fell in a loud, brutal assortment of clangs, cracks, and smashes, a mighty billow of dust blasting through the open doorway as a wave to clear the bedlam.

The result was more destructive than he had expected, but of course the wizard had no plan of squaring up any bill for damages. He had been walked into this deathtrap, with some mad fool firing live rounds and skewering him with shards of polished stone. There were plenty of people more deserving the ire of the church today, and larger fish for electromancer to fry.

Specifically, this squirrelly… whoa!

A great steely sword-thing was sailing directly for him, still low in his crouch at the front of the church hulking by the altar. As though possessed, he summoned a small wave of electromagnetic energy, and watched as the pulse redirected the incoming harpoon with the skill and deft of a well positioned shield. It still struck the ornate casing behind him, skewering a cabinet usually reserved for ceremonial wines. Like a hook set in the maw of a fish, the spear stuck and dug behind the thin sheet metal. To do this, the speed would have had to be nearly ballistic, but he hadn’t heard the recoil of a barrel nor seen the tiny cloudburst of expired gunpowder.

Don’t tell me he –threw- that f*cking thing… who or what the hell is this guy?

It was a fair enough question. Storm Veritas had gone from city to city, wronging the rights in his favor around the globe. He’d seen monsters from dragons to werewolves, and men from the might of Letho Ravenheart to the magical skill of Karuka O’Sheean. In all of these travels, he’d never encountered anyone with the unchecked, uniaxial bloodlust of this newcomer. This man – ordinary by inspection – had arrived with guns literally blazing, and asked no questions about the opponent he had been slated against. The sorcerer was quite used to using an ill-gotten reputation to intimidate enemies into making mistakes; this young man had enjoyed the courage of ignorance and already hobbled an arm. It was time to claw back a mental edge.

“Listen son… he began, eyes alternating from harpoon in the wine box to the would-be congregation behind him. “I’ve spot-welded dozens of young idiots coming out to collect some sort of random warrant or half-assed ransom on my head. I’m sure I can buy and sell your employer twice over, provided you have some skills. In fact, with an arm like that and those godforsaken bullets, you could make yourself a small fortune.” He lingered on the last sentence; as he thought about it for a moment it wasn’t even entirely a lie. He spun about his left foot to face the congregation, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t eat one of those bullets for his gamble.

“Time for you to decide if you want to cash your chips in for good or start betting on yourself.” The wizard had a way of making surrender sound almost noble, albeit unlikely. It was worth a try.

[jdd2035]

Hopefully the harpoon stuck where it was at would act as a kind of lightning rod. If nothing else the electromancer couldn't use it as a target. And now the mage was talking... that's ok when a mage talks they're not firing off weird shit from their fingers. That gave him time to move around a bit further. Cain let the mage do the talking as he loaded his other pistol powder, followed by a piece of cotton wad, followed by a lead ball each step was tamped into place by a ram rod.

As he loaded his second pistol Cain wiggled his toes they were still a touch numb. Cain took a look around there was a chandelier that once would have light up the entire church it was solid heavy oak banded together with blackened iron brackets. Cain nodded yeah that would answer. He grinned and in reply to Storm's offer he shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard over the roar of a full broadside "You could always surrender! Hope you don't hold any bad feelings at the end of this!"

Cain rose in one half way fluid and fired one shot high, very high the ball whizzed through the air at eleven thousand sixty feet per second which connected with the rope keeping the chandelier aloft. ~!Snap!~ went the rope and gravity started doing its job.

Cain was not finished and the instant he fired his first shot he fired his second. This time straight on at his opponent. Now Cains opponent could dodge both the chandelier and bullet, he may fire off lightning at Cain ignoring both or even possibly throw the chandelier. At- least from what Cain had experienced up to that point but he gave his opponent the benefit of the doubt and expected something else entirely as well.

[Storm Veritas]

If his expectations were low when he tried to talk his way out of trouble with the strange soldier, they still went unmet. This apparent sociopath feverishly reloaded as the wizard tried to reason with him. It was a longer process than Storm had expected, and he took note of the long process. Unlike some other gunslingers he had dealt with in the past, this one couldn’t fire rapidly. Sadly, he gave no consideration to the offer, and instead almost thoughtlessly shot the suspension cable on the massive candelabra above them. The huge iron structure began to fall freely, with no twist or hesitation to give him fair warning.

Without knowing the mass of the large structure, the electromancer didn’t attempt to suspend it with another magnetic field. In the off chance that he wasn’t strong enough to stop the falling collage of iron, wax, wood and fire, he would pay for the miscalculation with his life. A better plan, he reasoned, was simply to dive for shelter again beneath the enormous altar. This plan would prove sound, were it not for the second pistol his adversary wielded.

The round bore bullet caught the diving magician almost center mass; it would have been a heart-popping bulls-eye had he not scrambled for cover. The feeling of a black powder ball tearing through meat, rib, and lung served as no consolation, as he turned to watch from a twisting free-fall the metal orb roll in a crimson coated tumble towards the front wall of the church, only ten feet behind him. Blood flooded his lungs as he gasped desperately, and the chandelier crashed down upon him in an explosion of sound and dust, snuffing fire mercifully upon the badly wounded adventurer. Hot wax poured upon his hands, a pain that went unnoticed given the bullet wound. The brunt of the force was absorbed by a now-toppled altar, but Storm Veritas found himself pinned beneath a combination of stone and iron.

That son of a bitch… he’s been shooting metal balls this whole goddamned time. None of that lead shit the kids use now. Gods, I just overthought the whole f*cking thing.

His hands moved to the two open wounds upon his chest and upper back, crackling electric energy cauterizing wounds with the sizzle of bacon and the horrific scent of burnt flesh. The pain was dizzying, causing the magician to lose some form of mental focus as his eyes glowed white with a terrible blend of anger and agony. Through tear-stained vision, he caught a glimpse of the soldier in the dim light.

His body turned toward the boy, where his right hand reached back to attract the metal ball. Unnaturally, the little orb bounced and rolled before sailing into his hand, will disguised beneath the collage of the felled chandelier. He spoke again through weak, whispered and labored breaths to steal time.

“Clever move, even if it is dirty pool, boy. C… Come a little closer and let’s find out just how useful those little shitpistols can be. Hell, here… I’ve even got an extra round for you!”

With the flick of his wrist, Storm fired the orb back at his assailant. A pop of circular blue energy exploded before his outstretched palm as he rocketed the metal ball back to where it came. Sighing as he fired, he prayed for good fortune, as he was a sitting duck until he could gather the strength to move the massive structure above him.

[jdd2035]

Cain was about to press his advantage he had the weather gage, he had his opponent the mage dead to rights his cavalry saber in his right hand. He had started a thumping run to close the gap between him and his opponent when pow! One of his stray rounds passed through his collar bone and out of his shoulder blade tearing meat and shattering bone making his arm go dead stick. The captain had no choice but to drop his saber there was too much tissue damage to effectively grip his sword.

There was pain on some level running through his body but Cain was at a visceral base level where he derived joy from fighting, eating, and drinking and while the pain did register it was blocked out by living in this particular moment where guns where firing, walls were crashing down all around him and lightning and shot passing through and by him. He felt alive, this wasn't a nirvana though but it was a base feeling of adrenaline rush and excitement. He began to smile, the smile turned into a grin which in turn grew into a laughing roar; his eyes growing wide and maniacal.

The Captain kept coming his arm dangling and flopping as he grabbed a piece of a shattered pew to use as a stake or club and leaped on to the chandelier. He roared, growled, sower and took oaths as he began stabbing at any part that was exposed. Face, neck, what ever he could reach especially the eyes. For Cain this was just like a boarding action, all the visceral feelings, the wild shouting and yelling, the sweat pouring from his body and the body heat.

For the moment Cain had a kind of combat tunnel vision where his world shrank to what was four feet in front of him. His mind still worked tactically but just with in the next few feet. What ever happened next happened.

[Storm Veritas]

The spray of blood generated from the thrown bullet through the shoulder of the soldier brought a brief wave of vengeance and relief to the pinned wizard. He knew full well how brutal the pain from such a shot was; his inability to draw a full breath was testament to how horrific the damage could be. The soldier reeled with the shot, the sound of his saber clattering to the ground in a tinny echo that shouted down the empty church. Like all joy, the moment proved itself ephemeral.

You’ve got to be shitting me…

Despite the arm which hung limply from a ruined shoulder, the young man continued forward almost completely unmolested. It was like picking a single leg off the ka-boom beetle; the bug lost some stability but showed no acquiescence or indecision. This beast of a man was a true killing machine, hollowed to the core by some maniacal rage. Like a marionette missing a string, the terrible man leapt forward, feet crashing onto the chandelier without a modicum of grace or consideration. Conversely, the magician struggled to breath through a mouth that had been invaded by phlegm and blood from his own brutally compromised system.

“Off… get… off…”

Storm’s breaths came in weak pulses; he had managed a crude sealing burn to his injury but failed to heal the soft tissues damaged within his chest. Worse, a few prongs of rusted iron on the periphery of the candelabra frame drove a full inch and a half into his thigh under the weight of the fanatic; Storm’s back arched in defiance and he felt the pain magnify his heightened electrical proclivities.

Focus… you can throw him. Focus.

The electromancer wasn’t fast enough; the soldier rained down a flurry of shots with a chunk of thick wood from his remaining shoulder. By rolling away frenetically and desperately from the massive, brutish blows, Storm was able to dodge most and minimize the others, but the heft of the wood was considerable. Clearly, these cathedrals were built with old money, and one of the blows caught the left side of his face as he rolled from it, the tangential contact still near concussive in force. Desperation took its ultimate root in the experienced adventurer.

Fight or die, it’s simpler than it seems.

A sneer seemed to cross the face of the oddly dressed assailant, a moment of mild satisfaction that his club had caught its mark. Furious, Storm decided there were no more moments left to wait. With one desperate, blood-choked breath, he exploded upward a seismic force of electromagnetic radiation.


“I SAID OFF!!!”

The pulse was simply massive, and he felt the iron screech and yield as it moved upwards underneath the soldier. His leg was torn wider open from the brutality of his push, and his eyes streaked again in a fog of semi-consciousness as the pain overwhelmed him. If the club-wielding psychopath wasn’t all but stopped, he may have found Storm to be almost completely vulnerable beneath the source of wild, white energy.

[jdd2035]

The chandelier erupted from under splinters rocketing every where. A large conglomerate of iron and oak ripped through his leg. Another piece about the size of his fist plowed through stomach doing a catastrophic amount of damage to his innards and to his spine. Nothing that was so critical as to instantly kill him but he was finished. He began to quietly chuckle which once again turned into a full laugh.

While the smoke and dust filled the the church Cain clamped the pistol between his destroyed legs. Powder, wad, ball all tamped in. When the smoke and dust cleared he smiled as blood ran from his mouth and fired one last shot. "I'll have to congratulate you with a drink." Cain said before his body went limp succumbing to all of his wounds.

[Storm Veritas]

The explosive surge of his final wave of electric energy was devastating, both to the wizard and his juggernaut of an opponent. The iron and wood twisted and splintered as it surged up, the structure clearing the felled frame of Storm Veritas as particulates exploded outward under the ferocious strain of twisting metal. Through some consortium of karmic retribution and blind luck, the wounds to the soldier were insurmountable.

Thank… f*cking… gods…

Veritas sighed as he leaned backwards in a collapse of sorts. His breathing was still ragged and short, each gasp of air a struggle through burning lungs. His shoulder injury seemed miniscule by comparison in light of the greater injuries he had suffered. The open flesh on his thigh screamed for attention he simply could not heed. The sour scent of decay filled his nostrils as the two lay nearly motionless, and the periphery of the magician’s vision was clouded and spotty. A merciful silence was followed by maniacal laughter, which struck him as simultaneously horrifying and hilarious. The sheer audacity of that soldier to laugh in spite of the controlled war was shattering.

Another gunshot rang out following mention of a drink, and it rattled Storm in his incapacitated state. The soldier had either missed or not aimed at him; Veritas couldn’t tell in the chaos precisely where the ball had registered, aside from not being in or [/i]through[/i] him. With the sadist’s grin, the soldier appeared to pass out, satisfied with his own efforts.

Gods, the hell do I do with this one? Burn the body? Cut off his head? This son of a bitch keeps coming back, but it sure looks like the clock struck midnight on him…

The struggle to move was horrible for the electromancer, even now freed of his iron candelabra prison. He had lost a great deal of blood, and the smell of burning flesh sat in the air like a foul cloak following the cauterization of the great wound on his leg. His magic would sterilize and close the wound, at least for now, but rendered the entire leg numb and listless. Kicking off his good foot, he struggled to push his back up against the granite pillar. The mighty pylon once supported the altar, but was now toppled, a monument in itself to the battle which just raged.

Don’t stop. Keep your eyes on him.

He struggled and pulled himself away, tearing open the harpoon-hampered metal door to find a large glass cask of wine. It was dark to the point of purple, but still smelled of rich Concordian Red grapes and sweet relief. Some thirty feet from him, the soldier lay motionless, as though inviting the wizard to pace his own escape efforts. Storm rubbed a blood-stained finger around the rim to clear long-settled dust, and drank deeply.

“Cheers, you sick bastard.”

He hoisted the glass to the unconscious soldier, feeling the wine settle pleasantly in his stomach. The numbing effect would take time, but his healing would be slow, the fill line in the neck of the jug high, and the night young. A good buzz would certainly make the effort of dragging his half-dead carcass out of the terrible Crucible.

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Judgment

Combat

Storm Veritas - 20/30

I felt you made the most of your surroundings earlier in the fight and your attempt to bring the steeple down around Cain in your second post made good use of the structure. I assumed that your electric was intended to either superheat or melt the support beam (as opposed to electrifying the adjacent beams) so if I’ve misconstrued that, I apologise.

One thing I simultaneously both love and hate about you is that you show an over-eagerness to take hits to the point of charity. It’s an endearing trait, I have to admit, so I scored you points here for ensuring fairness in what would otherwise have been (on paper) a fairly one-sided fight. One thing I really liked was your assumption that Cain’s bullets were lead and therefore immune to your electromagnetism – and the subsequent realisation that you were wrong once you’d been shot. I enjoyed that immensely, especially when you recycled the bullet and flung it back (which scored you points for strategy). Good work.

JDD - 17/30

One might argue that your opening attack seemed a bit odd given that there was a window of opportunity there for Cain to perhaps conjure up something a bit more tactile – however, I would counter argue that shooting someone in the head is a pretty good strategy in a fight, as long as you don’t announce yourself before doing so. That aside, I felt impressed with the way you used your harpoon as a makeshift lightning rod, using the tools at your disposal to try and negate some of Storm’s offensive capability. Unfortunately this didn’t pay off for you, but then you further solidified the tactical value of dispensing with the weapon by noting it was one less thing to help you get electrocuted with.

I loved the way you utilised the wood from the pew to fashion a makeshift dagger. The whole attack felt grungy, vicious and well suited to the high-octane assault you had launched into. That said, there wasn’t as much use of the scenery in your earlier posts that I could really give you points for so I’m afraid you fell a little short on resourcefulness.

One thing I like about you is your fairness in player-versus-player fights, and in that respect you are very similar to Storm Veritas. You take hits where it is logical to do so, and evade them where you know you realistically can. Carry that on and you’ll go far with other players here.


Character

Storm Veritas - 27/30

The actions that Storm takes in this battle of wits and the thought put into them felt just right for the character. I never questioned what he was doing or why, because everything was appropriate, proportionate and was made to feel realistic. Still, your biggest strength in your writing is your ability to convey Storm Veritas to the wider audience in a way which truly grips them. His colourful and vibrant personality really shines through in this battle, with subtle and intricate uses of vulgarity mixing well with his experienced and cold demeanour. This gives Storm his famous edge in all the right moments of the battle and makes his persona both real and believable.

In conjunction with the way you keep his persona, you also do a remarkable job at maintaining a high standard of communication that fits with Storm’s character. His words and thoughts are cold and calculated and you always try to ensure Storm’s dialogue is situation appropriate and rarely long or drawn out. My only issue is that sometimes I believe you can muse for the sake of musing, either to carry the scene forward or to break up play. That’s more of an observation than a judgment, though, so take it with a pinch of salt.


JDD - 15/30

Cain comes across exactly as I’m sure you intended him: a hardened veteran of the sea with respect, honour and pride. The way you write Cain ensures that those traits are not lost on the reader, and I again point to your first post as an example of where that glares through (“Cain was about to commit to the finishing blow against his previous opponent when all of a sudden his arena faded out and he found himself back in the hall of the citadel. His time was up and he felt disappointed at the fact that he had won by default.”). Then later in the battle, after Cain has been shot, we get to see a glimpse of a more feral, pain driven man who is swallowed up by his primal instinct to survive.

The latter showed you thought about the two types of Cain and how easily one can become the other with a little push, but I still feel that what Cain sorely misses is true characterisation that grips the reader and makes him feel real. This is something that I believe you will bring to him in time. Remember, it’s the little nuances done well that make a persona stand out on this site and with such an interesting character in your arsenal I believe a bit of tweaking here or there on even the smallest details (such as habitual dialogue, movements or thoughts) will add colour to a developing character such as this. You gave us a view of Cain at either end of the spectrum and I would encourage you to build upon this base.

Though the dialogue was mostly ok, there was little that really stood out as particularly captivating and I feel this is an area very much still in development for you. The last line, “"I'll have to congratulate you with a drink." seemed particularly out of place, given the berserk-like state Cain had been in a moment prior.


Prose


Storm Veritas - 26/30

I feel that I am somewhat cheating you with feedback on this particular section here because there is very little to criticize. Once again you have produced a nearly flawless set of posts in the mechanical sense. Much like other judges tasked with reading your work, I found myself hard pressed to find a mechanical flaw and this is reflected in the score above.

The way you write makes it easy to understand what you want to achieve and how you achieve it, but there were one or two occasions where I couldn’t quite grasp your location in relation to Cain. That said, as a reader, I rarely wondered what was going on and why or how. As I noted above, your technique is well executed and well practised, with only a minor adjustment to the score to reflect my point on perhaps slightly unnecessary internal thoughts between paragraphs.

JDD - 12/30

Mechanically speaking, the thread seemed to be below average in terms of quality. There were a few obvious typos and spelling errors throughout but there seemed to be many more grammatical errors within the first posts that couldn’t be ignored. These consisted mostly of a lack of proper punctuation. This was a shame, because a lot of the errors could have easily been fixed with a quick spell-check in word. My advice to you here is to quickly run your posts through such a check to maximise the score for mechanics – sometimes, you can make up five or six points in this category just by doing that!

I have judged one or two of your pieces before and have found that you tend to be a bit of a mixed bag in terms of your technique, which can sway between occasional uses of good imagery and similes to quite plainly constructed sentences. On this occasion it is this lack of consistency that has cost you a good score here, but don’t be too disheartened – at the end of the day, I am seeing improvements in your writing that indicate you are going in the right direction!

Another problem that seems to occur with some regularity is that your thoughts and musings don’t tend to be distinguished from your third person writing. As an example I point to your first post on paragraph two (“His eyes had caught the flash of a match and the burning cherry of some one smoking through an open stained glass window...Sloppy, sloppy the smell will let any one know that you were there and the cherry made a fantastic target.”). Here, I would have liked to have seen the latter part of your sentence structured in such a way that made the distinction between thought and description obvious, such as: “Sloppy, sloppy the smell will let any one know that you were there Cain thought, noting that the cherry scent made a fantastic beacon.”

There was very little wrong with your clarity, other than one or two occasions where I couldn’t fathom where you were in relation to Storm.

Wildcard:

Storm Veritas: 6
JDD: 6

Though it may have seemed a one sided fight based on the scores alone, there was a lot to enjoy here and I felt you both did a superb job of utilising the combat rubric. Well done!

Final scores

Storm Veritas: 79
JDD: 50

Storm Veritas progresses to the final!


In accordance with the Osiris Open rubric, the rewards as follows:

Storm Veritas receives 1200 EXP and 80 GP!

JDD receives 560 EXP and forfeits 65 GP to the tournament pot!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All rewards have been added!