The Playwright Plays Right

[Io Beauregard]

Closed to Aryr de Morte.
In must have been a strange view from the third floor of the Citadel to see a head of curly black hair occasionally pop up from the same rooftop over and over again. Io probably looked like a timid chipmunk looking out of its hole wary of any predators. This of course was not the case, but he was surprised that someone hadn’t asked him to get down from there whether it was a member of the Citadel or the tavern that he was on the roof of. He couldn’t wait to get off though, but he was drawing and inking a grand portrait of the Citadel and this rough wooden roof provided an almost perfect panorama view of the structure. For hours he lay on the uncomfortable floor sketching away with various chalks and pens, but his pure admiration for the invincible ziggurat had to be put on a 3x5 canvas.

Io finally finished and waited for the ink to dry as the sun set just behind the temple of warriors. It was at that moment that he regretted leaving his color pastels at the inn. The sky was but water as the sunlight stained it with an incandescent orange glow. The clouds, which were present but not abundant had pink fluffy bellies that reminded the artist of cotton candy. Unfortunately the Citadel was doused in shade, and most of its details were obscured by darkness. But it fit. The picture was still perfect, and if Io were making a color pastel portrait of the building he would leave everything just as he saw it for dramatic effect. He took one last look at his colorless portrait and covered it up.

It was time to show the monks their gift, but simply crossing the street to the Citadel proved to be quite difficult. Evidently Radasanth was in rush hour at all hours of the day. “Excuse me… Pardon me… Move, damnit!” Io wasn’t normally so short tempered, but when his artwork was at risk the artistic genius turned into a crazy possessive child with a security blanket.

Just before he stepped off of the street and out of the fray a large warrior presumably exiting the Citadel abruptly ran into Io’s left shoulder, slipping the canvas out of his hands.

“You son of a…” He grasped his dual Drow scimitars, each sheathed on either side of his waistband, ready to fight against a man twice his size. Before he made such a stupid move he realized that his artwork had once again been enchanted with a mighty convenient power. It seemed admiration was buoyant.

“A gift from Iowerth Beauregard to the Ai’Biron monks of the great Citadel!” Io’s voice echoed in the main atrium of the institution as he strutted in with gusto. He held the artwork with only one hand now. “Who do I give this to?”

“I’m sorry sir,” A barefooted robed bald man no older than Io approached with a flattered smile. “But as monks we’ve taken a vow of poverty and sworn off all material possessions.”

“Then take it as a contribution to the facility.” With great pride he pulled the cover off to reveal the portrait. The monk raised his bushy eyebrows in what Io hoped to be amazement. “I just thought a gesture of good will would be in order. I haven’t seen the Citadel up close before today. I mean I’ve been in Radasanth, but I’ve never been here which is weird because this is one of the city’s signature sights, you know. I’ve been to Radasanth countless times, but today, well tonight, would be my first battle aaaaaand I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Will you take it?”

“I think we can make an exception for this, young warrior.” The monk nodded as he began to walk off. “Please wait here while I find something to prop it up with.”

“Oh that won’t be needed.” Io let the portrait go and it didn’t fall. It simply sat suspended at shoulder height with the artist.

The monk once again raised his eyebrows as he slowly stepped up to the artwork. He tapped it with an index finger and it floated back. “Watch out!” the monk stopped and looked at the artist. “The ink might still be wet. It’s best to handle it at the edges.”

“How long will this levitation enchantment last?”

“Well.” Io rolled his eyes in contemplation then looked down at the tattoo on his forearm, “As far as I know it’s permanent. The day one of my enchantments runs out I’ll come back with an expectancy.”

“It’s all very good. The detail is uncanny and the shading must have taken you hours! I don’t know how to thank you, good warrior… Or do I? Follow me!” The monk led Io to a group of monks standing near a set of large oak double doors. They spent at least a minute speaking in a tongue Io couldn’t comprehend. To him it felt like hours probably because no one was speaking to him and he wasn’t performing or making art. Those were the only times that time moved at a tolerable rate. The monk turned around to see Io spinning around in place. “Young warrior, describe a theatre of war in which you would desire to perform and we will do artwork of our own.”

Io shrugged his shoulders with a smile and began to stare into space. His body seemed to lean with his onyx eyes as they slowly shifted from left to right. The monks could see the sparkles in them. “You know how women always want to make love under the starlight? Well I’ve done that before and it’s not that exciting, so I want to try and do the opposite under the stars. The nighttime sky would be so luminous that it would be just as bright as day. I would be wearing a full silk suit of pants, tunic, and a cloak all maroon with a pale green trim. Allow my opponent to choose a wardrobe if he likes, but tell him or her to look good because all of Radasanth will be our audience.”

“Done. Close your eyes and listen.” Io closed his eyes and heard the last words of the monk. “Action is eloquence. We mortals are but actors, and all the world is a stage.”

It was his ears that first cued Io in on the fact that he was no longer in the crowded atrium of the Citadel. No longer was there a roar of people walking and talking about. Instead it was off in the distance and only but a harmonious hum. The air was no longer humid and stuffy with the body heat and breath of dozens of warriors and monks. It was now crisp, cool, and a tad bit salty. He wanted to wait for someone to tell him to open his eyes but he could bare the suspense no longer, and he opened his eyes to see that he was standing at the edge of a giant stone platform. Other platforms extended out from below lifting it high above the ground and creating a pyramid form, a ziggurat to be exact. It was spacious, at least forty square feet, and even if he were to fall off there were wider platforms below. The heavily populated city below was full of life despite this time of night, and there stood a great bronze statue of a warrior in the distance. Io quickly put two and two together. He was on top of the great Citadel.

But what about his light source? The nighttime sky was ablaze with twinkling lights, shooting stars, and colossal galaxies, but it still wasn’t bright enough for him to see his own hand, much less his new suit, which felt so good against his skin. Where the monks powerful enough to truly illuminate the sky? Just as that thought crossed his mind, those same cosmic bodies seemed to set ablaze with light, almost blinding Io at first. The monks had cleverly fulfilled their promise. Although he was hoping for a nice large arena under the stars filled to the brim with spectators, this was just as good. The nighttime sky was luminous; his beautiful new suit did well to hide his scimitars, and all of Radasanth had their eyes on them. The stage was set, the audience was present, and now all they needed was a dual lead to start the play.

[Aryr de Morte]

The dark haired soldier was enjoying his time at the weathered inn. Plenty of women, drinks, and music to go around. His previous traveling companion had told him of the Citadel in the bustling city of Radasnath. On the way to wherever Aryr was headed he figured he'd stop in and see the grand structure for himself. First though, partying and getting drunk was in order.


The next day...

Aryr woke with a jolt. He hadn't slept so long in his entire life, the women he had the night before he could hardly remember. It didn't matter, he would never see them again. It was almost time for the sun to set in Radasnath and Aryr figured there would be no better thing to get rid of his hangover than seeing the Citadel for himself.

Aryr walked out of the inn, flipping a copper coin as a tip for the rather fine-looking waitress as he made his exit. It was a beautiful sunset out to be sure, Aryr loved when the sky was a soft orange, making the clouds a slight pink. There couldn't have been more of a contrast to the Citadel, well, what Aryr assumed was the Citadel. The stone was silhoutted black from the light behind it and enormous and menacing. The beauty was picture perfect and Aryr took a moment to admire before a drunken whore crashed into the darkly handsome man, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry laddie!" The lady continued along in her haze.

By Daryq, these Coronians are annoying. Aryr continued pushing through the overly crowded streets. He looked back at the inn one last time to see a man sitting atop it who looked like a groundhog sticking its head out of the hole it had dug for the harsh winter's cold. That was rather odd to be sitting on top of an inn and not sitting in it, girls falling on your warm lap. Either way it wasn't important, Aryr had a more exciting destination and shouldn't worry about other peoples' idiotic acts.

The streets got busier the closer Aryr got to the Citadel, it seemed to be the main attraction at every time of day in Radasnath. That didn't matter, the soldier was graceful enough to wiggle his way through the hundreds of Coronians. As the Citadel came into full view, the Eulaean saw the full glory that this building commanded. It must have been standing for hundreds of years, it reminded him of the Temple of Infinity back in Eulaea. The steps only added to the dramatic effect of the gates that led into the structure.

Aryr saw an artist scurrying his way up the steps with a large canvas in his hands, he looked angry as though someone had perhaps tried to take it from him. He was of no consequence, Aryr proceeded up the steps. As he came to the gates he saw the man offering the canvas and whatever on it as a gift. Aryr got distracted by one of the most beautiful and least clothed women he had ever seen.

Suddenly a gruff man pushed him out of the way and told him to piss off and watch where he went.

Rude and pathetic, go figure.

Aryr was excited to get in the middle of a battle here, he found someone who looked like an authorative figure and walked up to him.

"Excuse me," the Eulaean gave an eloquent bow, "I am Aryr de Morte, may I take part in a Citadel event?"

"Your respect is appreciated," the Citadel monk looked around, "and as a matter of fact, we have a very special event for you to partake in, how would you change your clothing?"

"What do you mean?" The soldier looked a bit confused, "I would prefer to keep the garment I have now, if that is what you mean."

"Very well, close your eyes..."

Suddenly Aryr got the feeling he wasn't where he was standing before. He opened his eyes to see that they were on top of what seemed like the Citadel. After looking down he realized that he was indeed on top of the colossal marvel. Looking straight he saw the man he assumed was to be his opponent. It was... the artist from before? No, it couldn't be, could it?

"Greetings, may the better warrior be victorious!" Aryr shouted, readying his spear and shield.

[Io Beauregard]

Io looked down and evaluated his new suit. He thought of his oldest sister as his eyes crossed themselves in the intricate patterns of the thick silk cloak. He’d admired her sense of style. When he was with his family on travels he would always give her money to go and purchase new clothes for him whenever they were in a new place. Polynia would always tell him that maroon brought out his dark skin tone. Perhaps it was self perception, but every time he looked in the mirror the color did just that. Poly was always his favorite sibling.

A male voice interrupted his train of thought and the artist looked up to see his opponent. He had an eerie look to him. Perhaps it was the lip piercing, which was very much a rarity in these parts, or maybe it was the black eyes of oblivion that set Io off. No. Io had to look to himself. What did his opponent have that he didn’t have? Height. The man was tall, and hopefully Io wasn’t done growing for life. Family history indicated that he was done growing, but there was a rare possibility that Io would get to the height of the average male.

Then the costume caught his eye. It was a burning vision of mismatch colors, but everything was practical in terms of size and fit. “My my my, weren’t you original with your wardrobe for this event. Well we reap what we sew. All of Radasanth will be watching us, style preferences and all.”

He clenched his left fist as a yellow flame ignited around it, and drew only one of his scimitars from under the cloak with his right hand. He wasn’t going to show all his cards at once by revealing the other sword. It would be best to use it at the most opportune moment.

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll let us keep the suits after the battle.”

Io thrust his left fist forward and the sphere of fire that was wrapped around his first shot forward towards the warrior and his long spear. After giving his scimitar a jovial spin he began to walk forward with an intrepid confidence. The way he figured it he would eventually need to use his second scimitar to get in close with a long range weapon like that. It was worth trying at it with just one though.

[Aryr de Morte]

Magic... pathetic tricks, they are...

Aryr saw the flame coming at him, he saw it clearly at that. He quickly ducked out of the way, feeling the heat singe his hair. Aryr squatted into a position where the shield would cover most of his body, save his feet and top of his head. He had his spear ready, this would be simple. The man had a single scimitar and some simple tricks.

Left, right, stab. This should be easy enough.

The man spun his scimitar with misplaced confidence, the Eulaean had been in countless battles and killed countless more. There would be nothing that could stop him against an unarmored opponent. He would be dead soon enough. Aryr wanted to make a show of it however, perhaps winning the favor of Daryq for playing with his opponent rather than simply obliterate him as he had done to countless other men.

The artist's suit was rather odd, it fit nicely on his relatively small body but it also hid his physique, Aryr had no clue how strong the man really was. Hopefully the soldier could push him around. He had been trained extensively in the art of combat. Regardless, Aryr's time to make a move was running out and he didn't want his opponent to create any advantages for himself.

Quickly launching off his right foot, he hopped left and then used his momentum to hop again but the the right. Aryr stabbed in the direction of the man's torso with his spear, his left side would be open to a counter unless he spun quickly. So Aryr spun to his right after the stab, pulling his right arm up to bring the golden shield high enough to block any counter.

[Io Beauregard]

As the artist walked forward he evaluated the spear wielding warrior. His opponent exceedingly surpassed him in weight and height, but Io was used to that. Unless he was in Fallien he was usually the shortest male in visual range. He used to hate his low stature, but soon realized that his shows of strength were that much more pleasantly surprising. Nothing beat lifting a woman with one hand in front of a group of maidens who had the audacity to call him adorable, cute, precious, or anything less than handsome. It would be a similar situation here. Onlookers would begin making their assessments about the battle and naturally put their money on the larger fighter.

The centurion looking warrior dodged Io’s fist sized fireball with ease, which was to be expected. It was his first move in this game of minds. If his opponent lacked any ranged abilities he would probably move in to battle close range with his weapon. If his opponent had any ranged abilities he would probably make distance, take cover, and use make use of them. Io preferred it if is adversary came in close range so he could make surprise him with other uses of his fire tattoo.

The centurion’s next move bid well for Io. As he took the proper steps it was evident to Io that he was going to make use of his spear, which made it safe to assume that the centurion had no ranged abilities. Too bad his long spear was meant to keep enemies away, and he was probably good at that. Until he unsheathed his second scimitar, Io would have to make use of very quick footwork to get close to the centurion.

The attack came and was aimed high on Io’s body, so he got low. He stepped back with his right foot and bent his knees as the spear head quickly cut the air towards him. Luckily it didn’t cut him as he redirected the tip of the spear by deflecting it upwards with his scimitar. Then Io launched forward with his right foot and swung at the centurion. This was a smart warrior indeed. Not only had he put his shield up for guard he demonstrated quick footwork of his own by spinning away from Io. The shield wasn’t even necessary since the elegant blade hit nothing but air. In genuine fear of another attack the artist turned quickly and faced his opponent in a back stance, this time with his right side facing forward.

[Aryr de Morte]

As the artist swung his scimitar at Aryr, the soldier chuckled a bit to himself. The blade had cut through very well, through the air. Delighted at the lack of skill, the Commander watched the suited man spin around, facing Aryr with his right side. He had good footwork but so far he hadn't demonstrated anything threatening except that foolish trick of fire. It wouldn't matter, once he got his opponent in the perfect range, there was nothing the man could do to stop Aryr.

Making a sudden move would cause the man to act quickly, Aryr needed to be calm and then pounce like a cat killing an unsuspecting rodent. Aryr strafed slowly to the left, the man moving along with him. The soldier stared into his opponents eyes, hoping to make him nervous and shaky in the process while he waited to strike.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

The time to strike came after about three seconds, Aryr felt ready and comfortable with his position. He sprung with surprising speed, only slightly faster than a human would have and took a stab at the artist. Not paying attention to whether he hit flesh, Aryr rushed at him with his shield and then quickly rolled to his right to scare the man into thinking there was a charge. Despite the fact there wasn't, Aryr thought it would work, he stood up quickly in his same low stance, covering his body with his shield.

That slight bunnying was approved over AIM.

[Io Beauregard]

Previous bunnying approved. Sorry for the wait.
That spear and shield were both quite frustrating. The spear did well to keep Io from getting within range of the centurion, and when he did get within range the centurion was proficient with his shield and predicting where Io swung. He had to recall the teachings of his older brother, Aime. He had taken ritual scimitar lessons in Ettermire and passed them down to Iorwerth when he received his scimitars. To cater to Io’s strengths and weaknesses Aime gave him special advice. He couldn’t rely on his strength, speed, or reflex to guarantee victory in a battle. His greatest weapon was his imagination and improvisational skills; therefore his hesitation and defensive patience was not going to help him. This philosophy had gotten Io out of tight spots many a time.

With this new frame of mind Io decided it was proper time to reveal his second scimitar, but he would have to take advantage of the centurion’s ignorance. Io tossed his blade over to his left hand and charged forward just as the centurion took another strike. It was basically the same strike as before, so Io took a similar defensive measure by deflecting the spearhead with the blade. His scimitar rung as it made contact with the spearhead, and Io’s left arm swung back from the velocity of the contact. This left his right side facing the centurion, ample opportunity to reveal another card in his deck.

The second scimitar rung like a bell as it slid out of the scabbard and towards its target as an intended stab. Alas Io’s opponent had already taken an evasive maneuver by taking a roll to the side. In Io’s previous train of thought he would have stepped back to let this process repeat once again, but not anymore. The art of improvisation was the art of acting and reacting off of quick stimuli, so Io decided to keep the process moving quickly by swinging both blades in vertical unison across his opponent’s body.

[Aryr de Morte]

Aryr heard the slight clank of his spearhead hitting the other man's weapon. Aryr assumed he would step back and wait again, but he didn't. To the soldier's surprise the man came in closer, almost too close for the dark haired man to hit the artist. The sound of another sword rang out from the man's side.

Shwing

Suddenly, the man was upon Aryr his sword flying straight at him; Aryr used his shield and pushed upwards on the scimitar from the ground up. The man recovered quickly, using both of his swords to slash down at Aryr quickly, his shield managed to cover his right side but his left was wide open. The cold steel cut his forearm like a knife through butter, the Eulaean stumbled slightly, and taking a step back he regained his balance.

Tricky little fucker.

Aryr took this opportunity to change up his tactics a bit, instead of making random stabs it was time to feint and fight with more eloquence. The soldier took a quick step to the left and extended his spear outwards, facing away from the man and quickly took a sweep at his feet. Not stopping there, Aryr spun and while doing so, using the dull end of his spear to strike at the artist's head, hoping to daze him for the next maneuver. Aryr's large cape got in the way of his footwork after however and he tripped slightly on it, stumbling forward before facing the man again with his shield raised.

[Io Beauregard]

Finally success! The decorative engravings on the artist’s right scimitar were now tiny intricate rivers of the centurion’s deep red blood. The wise words of Iorwerth’s brother came in handy when put into action. Aime was always his favorite sibling. Iorwerth smiled at the results of his actions and keeping in the spirit of things he continued with an overhead strike. The centurion had already moved out of range of his blades, but Io kept moving forward with plans of following with a double blade uppercut.

This was not the wise thing to do. Io had both of his swords, and only means of defense, in mid coil for an uppercut. This meant they were both down near his waist leaving his entire upper body open to any attack. As a result the blunt side of the centurion’s spear made contact with the back of his head. The wooden shaft vibrated as it pressed onto the back of Io’s skull and made a loud knocking sound that resonated through his ears and tickled the front of his nose.

Standing firm against a swing of that velocity would likely result in the further fracturing of his skull and possibly his neck, so Io allowed the given momentum to knock him forward and off his feet. He rotated his scimitars in the palms of his hands so they would be pointing inversely. That way he wouldn’t stab himself when he hit the ground and rolled forward. His right shoulder blade hit the roof of the Citadel first and the rest of his body naturally followed like a carriage wheel.

By the end of this maneuver Io’s feet were dangling off of the edge of the ziggurat as he looked down at his audience. People were obviously watching from the very street he had crossed to get here, but now they were but a distant blur in contrast to before, when he could at least see a few details. Iorwerth’s vision had been greatly compromised due to the blow. This was not good. He never thought of himself as a master warrior who could fight with his eyes closed like his opponent probably could, but then he thought of a solution. Rona.

The Beauregard middle sister was a great prankster and somewhat of an amateur thief. She had once given him advice when they were sneaking into a party they weren’t invited to. The most basic and useful provision one can take when avoiding being seen was to crouch or climb. Unless they knew what they were looking for people rarely ever looked up or down out of pure habit. Io had one better, the Citadel itself. It was a ziggurat, a pyramid structure of successively advancing descendant stories. They were on the very top, and the story below him gave him a ten foot parameter around the roof.

Io pushed himself forward and dropped down to the next story. His short stature was mighty convenient at this point. Every story was about seven feet, so he was well hidden, but he would have to jump to get back up to the top. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to if he played his cards right. Io ran around to another side of the building just in case his opponent saw him drop, and waited. With his vision mostly gone the artist listened for the centurion’s footsteps. Maybe that would be the only way he could win.

[Aryr de Morte]

Aryr had looked away for a second to recover after his spin. The pain in his arm was becoming dull now, the shock had finally begun to wear off. Blood dripped from the wound slightly, some of the warm liquid running down Aryr's muscular arm. After recovering his footing, Aryr couldn't see the man as he looked up, quickly the soldier jerked his head right and left.

How the hell?

Aryr knew about magic but didn't suspect that this man could turn invisible, if that was the case however, the Eulaean would not last very long. Although there were many other tricks to hide oneself, Aryr couldn't think of any on top of the building. There was only one solution, to jump down to the next level. It worried the dark haired warrior to do such a thing, his opponent could easily ambush him as he jumped down, and the man was short. It would also be hard to see him in his black clothing against the roof of the Citadel.

There was no other choice, the artist could be following Aryr even as he decided what to do, but it wouldn't help to stand around in one spot for long. He felt like a mouse in the clutch of a cat now. He took the necessary steps to reach the end of the level and looked down. Without any further procrastination he hopped down, his knees bending at the impact. A defensive stance was quickly in place, Aryr's eyes darting about quickly. Nothing he could see. He would stay here and wait, the wall would protect his back and the shield his front, he only had to watch his sides, now.

I'm terribly sorry for the wait, I've been busy with life as of late. I'm getting back into the groove now. Thanks.

[Io Beauregard]

Io heard that. It was the sound of two feet hitting the stone. The warrior was on his level of the Citadel now, and he was right around the corner. He couldn't have that. He had to be on a different level to maintain the advantage whether it was on top of below. The warrior wasn't moving. Io didn't hear any footsteps. He was waiting for Io to make the next move, and if Io could hear him thus was the vise versa. If a change in the level was made it would be heard.

So instead of immediately jumping down to the next level Io lay his hand on the wall and stealthily made his way to the opposite end of the structure. From that side the centurion wouldn't be able to hear him climb down to the next level however clumsy or loud he may be. His vision was still only halfway effective so he had to be careful, move slowly, and keep his ears peeled. The rough stone of the structure caused much friction against his flat palm thus much noise, so he only lay his index finger on it.

The stone abruptly ended letting him know that he was at the ending corner of the building, where he promptly sat down at the edge and gently pushed himself off. His feet hit the ground with a light tap. Now it was time to return to fighting. Io put his back to the wall and quietly began to inch his way back to the centurion's location.

[Amaril Torrun]

Io Beauregard

Story

Continuity- 6 - You did a good job of starting this thread off. The introduction set a mood that lasted for the rest of the battle. The only thing I found slightly erring was Io’s eagerness to get into a battle when he is an artistic type of person. Also, I didn’t really know where he was coming from. A paragraph at the beginning of the thread that describes his past endeavors can help the reader understand your character’s reasons for being in certain places.

Setting- 4 - There was some good descriptive points in the beginning of the battle. Once you two started the fight though, you stopped saying anything about the surroundings. Even in the heat of battle it is good to throw in some description of the area. Using the setting to your character’s advantage or disadvantage will improve your writing even further. Changing the levels at the Citadel was a nice touch, but sadly you didn’t reach its full fruition before ending the thread.

Pacing- 2 - The battle was quickly paced, which fits the situation the characters were in. The thing that hurt the most here was that the thread wasn’t finished.

Character

Dialogue- 3 - Io seems to switch his type of speech while talking.

“I mean I’ve been in Radasanth, but I’ve never been here which is weird because this is one of the city’s signature sights, you know. I’ve been to Radasanth countless times, but today, well tonight, would be my first battle aaaaaand I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Will you take it?”

Action is eloquence. We mortals are but actors, and all the world is a stage.”

The first quote presents Io as a jittery, rapid talker while the second suggests that of a calm, collected artist. Sometimes it can be ok to change a character’s style of speech. A person wouldn’t talk to their best friend in the same way that they would talk to their boss, for example. The problem here is that Io was speaking to the same person.

Also, since Io seems to be a talkative person, there should be some form of dialogue during battles, even if takes the form of internal thoughts. Continuous action and description can wear out a reader if there is no speech or thoughts to break it up.

Action- 5 - In your ninth post, you completely ignored Aryr’s first attack, which was a sweep at Io’s feet. You need to carefully read previous posts to make sure that you don’t miss anything. I do like how Io acts according to his character by not fighting like an experienced fighter.

Persona- 6 - You seem to know your character pretty well. I could easily see what king of character you are writing. What you need to work on is making the reader feel what Io is and what Io feels. The writing should be able to make the reader feel like they are in the story, not just reading it from far away.

Writing Style

Mechanics- 4 - There were grammar mistakes in nearly all your posts. The two things you need to work on are commas and misusing words.

“When he was with his family on travels he would always give her money to go and purchase new clothes for him whenever they were in a new place.”

Here, a comma should take place at some point (I’d put it after the word “travels”). A good rule of thumb is to read your longer sentences aloud. If you run out of breath or pause in mid-sentence naturally, then you know a comma needs to take place.

“If his opponent had any ranged abilities he would probably make distance, take cover, and use make use of them.”

The end of that sentence doesn’t make sense because of the first “use.” By carefully rereading your posts, you should be able to catch most of these mistakes.

Technique- 5 - You first two sentences in your first post are a good example of how a person should write. Instead of telling the reader what your character looks like, you show them by comparing Io to a chipmunk. Writing like that will take you far. What you need to do is use that type of writing in all of your posts.

“If his opponent had any ranged abilities he would probably make distance, take cover, and use make use of them.”

I know I’ve already used this sentence, but I wanted to point something else out in it. You use the word “make” twice in this sentence. While it does make sense, using the same words over again can hurt the effect of your writing. Try changing one of them such as the first one into the word “create a.”

Clarity- 5 - There were a few instances where I had to reread to know what was being said.

Wild Card- 3 - This could have turned out to be a pretty good battle if it were finished.

TOTAL SCORE - 43

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Aryr de Morte

Story

Continuity- 7 - Aryr fits the profile of someone that would want to get into a quick fight for no reason pretty well. You didn’t say much, but you did mention that he had heard about the Citadel from a past companion. I found myself asking who this companion was and, at the very least, why that companion mentioned the Citadel. A detailed account of his previous quests isn’t needed, but you should try to write enough to keep readers from having too many questions.

Setting- 4 - See Io’s setting.

Pacing- 2 - See Io’s pacing.

Character

Dialogue- 5 - There’s nothing that I can really pick at with Aryr’s dialogue. His speech isn’t very interesting though. Seeing as how he likes to get drunk and sleep with women at night, it might be more effective to have him speak in a less formal manner.

Action- 5 - Aryr acted the way a skilled warrior should.

When Io “cut his forearm like a knife through butter,” Aryr didn’t act as if he was as wounded as it was portrayed. He stumbled a bit and later looked down at the blood, but he didn’t really react the way one would expect. Did he make a facial expression, such as a grimace? Did he let a groan escape his trained lips? Some people are used to ignoring pain, but you didn’t even mention that after he got cut. Aryr’s thought after the attack helped humanize him, but it didn’t fully do the job.

Persona- 5 - Aryr doesn’t really spark any particular interest from me. There are plenty of warriors that enjoy women, drinking, and fighting. While it is alright to write about a character like this, you should find something different about him. Try to flesh him out more.

Writing Style

Mechanics- 5 - You had the same problems as Io, but slightly less frequently.

Technique- 5 - The same thing happened to you. Once the battle started, the action took precedence over everything else. Don’t tell the readers what is going on. Show them. Use writing tools such as metaphors, building up tension, or foreshadowing a future event.

Clarity- 5 - See Io’s Clarity.

Wild Card- 3 - See Io’s Wild Card.

TOTAL SCORE - 46

Congratulations to both of you.

Io Beauregard gains 150 experience and 100 gold.

Aryr de Morte gains 500 experience and 100 gold.

If either of you have comments or questions you can talk to me through PM or over AIM: loligagerrofl.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added.