Back in the Citadel...

[EarlStevens]

((Open. My opponent has the benefit of describing the battlefield.))

Our man strides briskly down the hallway of the Citadel, a monk scampering at his side, dry washing his hands in anxiety. The white-masked pillar of shadow at our man's side glides silently along with them, a marked contrast to the swishing monk's robes and clack of our man's walkingstick. The air feels cleaner and drier than it did the night our man first broke out of his holding cell and attempted escape from the ecclesiastical fortress. His plan at fleeing had been foiled by events beyond his control, but now he felt much more comfortable staying in the Citadel knowing that it was no longer his gaol - he can leave whenever he desires, and somehow that makes him less eager to flee.

"I'm really not so sure about this," the monk blathers, wiping sweat from his neck with his sleeve. "You're meant to be kept safe here, Lord Stevens left specific instructions..."

"You'd think he'd keep me in the loop, too, all things considered" our man snaps back, his anger rising at the thought of the man who shares his face. "I still don't know a bloody thing about him, or any of you fellows, for that matter." He pierces the monk with an angry gaze that silences him for a few seconds, a lump of a swallow rolling down his throat. They hurry along in silence for a short while more before the monk pipes up again.

"Listen, sir," babbles, reaching for our man's elbow. He pulls it away with a sneer. The monk withdraws his hand, but keeps pleading. "The last remnants of Aes..." the monk shivers and blanches, "... er, I mean to say, Bartholomew's supporters are hiding out somewhere in these halls. You might find yourself in the middle of a battle between us and them. It's far safer in our cordoned..."

"Listen," our man snaps, stopping in place. The monk catches himself after outpacing our hero by a few steps, and then retraces his path, shirking from the towering ghoul at our man's side, his eyes darting from our man's face to his feet. "You're obviously letting other people battle here. If this fairie land is as drenched in blood as last night indicates, I'll be dashed if I don't learn how to defend myself against the cloaks and daggers you buggers have in store for me. I'm not staying locked up in your infirmary forever. When I leave, I need some form of protection." Our man resists the urge to glance at the shadowy daemon at his side, which had shown its own protective abilities the night before. He could still see the snapping of the attacking soldier's arm and neck in his mind's eye. How the dickens his manservant had managed such violence was beyond reckoning, but the creature's lifeless mask of a face and inscrutable intentions don't give our man much reassurance of protection. If I find myself in a scrap, I don't want to depend on you. Sorry, old lad. Our man thinks, as if his manservant can somehow hear inside his mind. For all he knows, the ghostly figure can.

"Alright, alright," the monk mutters, his eyes shifting from side to side. "That door to your left will lead you to a battlefield. I wouldn't be surprised if some warrior is in there already." Our man nods and immediately strides toward the thick, rough wooden door, reaching for the brass handle. "Be careful!" the monk moans. Our man looks back at him, shakes his head dismissively, and throws open the door.

[Silence Sei]

Everything had already been set in place by the time his opponent had entered. The headstones scattered the lush green all over the ground, and seemed to disappear behind the large hills that were scattered all over the place. Some of the headstones looked rather new, as if there had been some sort of small genocide recently, while others were decaying, oozing the smell of mold from their very stone beings. It was obvious that the field chosen was a cemetary of some sort, but it was not set in the night time, strangely enough.

The sun was shining brightly, enough to give one a good tan if they were outside long enough. The smell of the grass hinted that it had been cut recently, despite the fact that some headstones would still give off their rank odor to anybody with competent nostrils. Naturally, if one looked hard enough, they would find something strangely out of place in this field of grays and greens.

At one of the headstones kneeled a small form, dressed in a red dress shirt and matching pants. This form was accompanied by another, clothed in a blue dress and heels, a yellow backpack strapped to this form. As soon as the door had opened to this battle, the second form leaned into the first, and seemed to whisper something into it's ear. "Papa, your challenger has arrived," the voice said in a low, very feminine tone. The first form shifted it's head, obviously nodding, and stood up, turning around and looking towards his opponent.

From a distance, this form was short, and that would not change upon closer inspection. While it did seem like this person was ready for battle, he appeared to be nothing more than a very young boy with two blded rings strapped to his hips. Orange hair blew in the wind as the boy began to approach his opponent, a little girl (the second form) standing up and following him. The boy's eyes shined with battle, as if he had seen too much of it already, but was prepared to fight once more.

His steps made no sound as he made his way upon the freshly cut grass, his crystalline eyes staying upon his prey. "Greetings to you, sir," the voice would speak into his opponents mind, if it was able to, that is, "I am Sei Orlouge, 'Hero of Radasanth'. I seek an opponent in battle that will help me get accustomed to the form you see before you. I hope you will have no qualms in fighting somebody who appears to be a child, and indulge me in my quest for a challenger."

[EarlStevens]

As our man opens the door, he does something he hasn't done in years. He concentrates on the walkingstick in his hand, and with a huff of effort, drapes a web of magic over it. The cane disappears in a flash, as if it has been sucked up the sleeve of of his jacket. No noise accompanies the sudden disappearance, no sign indicates the use of minor magic, learned decades before. Our hero collects his thoughts and gulps some air as he gives his surroundings a once-over.

He nearly coughs the breath back up. An earthy stench and a sickly, oily feeling fill his nose. To our man, it smells like either a very old bog or a very new graveyard. Judging from the moist grass under his feet and the tombstones surrounding him, it could be both. Grimacing, our man looks back at his shadowy manservant, who is lurking in a puff of mist beside a crumbling masoleum. "You certainly fit right in," our man quips. The ghoul responds with a silent, eyeless gaze. Our man shivers at the sight, and turns back to the rolling hills in front of him. He notes that the doorway through which he entered has disappeared, only sprawling acres of cemetary behind him now. There is no way out now.

Our man tromps between the graves, taking care not to tread atop the mouldering bodies. The whole place is the vision of a nightmare; he half expects to see a hunchbacked graverobber shuffling to and from gaping holes in the ground, muttering over a corpse's pilfered jewels. He is understandably surprised, and not a little unnerved, when instead he finds children lurking among the tombs. As they stand and approach him, our hero feels cold fingertips brush down his spine. Bloody hell, what's this about? The voice in his head does nothing to reassure him. Watching the approaching moppet, our man puts his hand to his temple, sweat beading on his face despite the chilly air.

"Ah," our man responds, unsure exactly how to proceed. Fighting children? Impossible. Obviously a fairie trick. our hero thinks to himself. His eyes shift from side to side, searching the skulking tombstones for a sign of some secretive agent. This ruse is impossibly macabre, but our man supposes that suits a graveyard. "Erm, you drive a hard bargain, Master Orlouge. Is that your sister? I'm afraid I would have a hard time shedding anyone's blood in front of a lady, especially one so young." Our man spills out, buying some time, trying to figure out this ruse. Is it some sort of trap? Is a hidden magician pulling the strings of this marionette? Perhaps it is some sort of illusion of the monks'. In any event, our man finds it a sick joke. Fighting a child? Unconscionable!

[Silence Sei]

The opponent did not appear unnerved by the fact that he was to do battle with a youth, but Sei could sense otherwise. When one has been experienced in battle for so long, they begin to detect when their opponent's have doubts, such was the situation now. Sei did not know what his opponent was doubting, but he showed no hint of anything in his voice, aside from a little bit of arrogance. Sei merely smiled at the assumption that Anita was his sister, and the smile grew wider at the comment of his blood being shed in front of her. His opponent carried himself well, but Sei was sure not to show any signs of being intimidated. He still had his strength, after all.

"Actually," Sei said, his smile fading back into a straight face, "Anita here is my daughter. As I said before I need your help in helping me get accustomed to the form you see. I have been stuck in this child's body for several weeks now, and I have to cope with my situation while I am in it. If it would make you feel better, I am actually twenty-four in normal Althanian time. Therefore, you would not be doing battle with a child, but an adult, and one that has participated in many a great battle, I might add." Sei realized at the last part of his statement that he sounded a bit arrogant himself, but did not allow his opponent to see the regret he felt for taking such a tone.

"You know of my name, sir," Sei said, deciding to get back to the matter at hand, "but I do not know yours. If we are to battle, I would like to know the name of the man I am fighting. I assure you that I do not believe in killing my opponents, and I am willing to admit defeat before I am in the face of death myself. The citadel's methods seem shady to me, and I do not enjoy leaving my life in the hands of people I do not know." Sei smiled like the innocent child he appeared to be before he bowed and reached to his sides, removing two bladed rings from his hips.

"After you introduce yourself, the battle shall officially begin. Are you prepared?"

[EarlStevens]

Our man's spirit wavers as he watches the smile creep across the child's face. He runs his tongue over his teeth, still unsure. The story the child told didn't seem entirely out of place, considering the things he had heard about magical realms like this one. In fact, he distinctly remembers a lecture on body transmogrification during his days at university. At the time, he had been more worried about figuring out a shorthand sign fo "transmogrify" than the mechanics of the process, but he seems to recall that transmogrification was a dark sorcerery, only employed to trick or defile an opponent in some dastardly way. Whether this fellow is a wizard, a brainwashed child, or actually a warrior trapped in a boy's body, our man is at a disadvantage. Even if his opponent doesn't know his name, the boy still comes out ahead: after all, he is not as hopelessly confused as our man is.

"I'll grant you my name, at least," our man replies, noting the weapons at the child's sides uneasily. "Earl Leopold Stevens of Westchester-Beyond-Moor. I hope the name is familiar," It would give me some comfort if it is, he thinks to himself, "For my ancestors had some ancient rights in magical realms such as this. I hope they will be respected." Our man moves into what he hopes is a defensive stance, and glances over his shoulder, searching for his manservant. The ghoul has, characteristically enough, vanished among the mist and graves. Damn you! our man thinks to himself, You're who I need in a pinch! And this certainly is a pinch...

"Well, Master Orlouge," our man says, pulling his fedora a little more tightly over his head and digging his heels into the loose dirt. "You evidently know more about the etiquette of battle here than I. Lay on! and damned be the first who cries hold, enough!" Grinning at his Shakespearean jest, our man bunches his shoulders and prepares for the outslaught, in whatever form it might take. I hope I haven't gotten in over my head on this one...

[Silence Sei]

It took a few moments before Sei's request for the name of his advesary came to fruition. Upon hearing the name, the mute's eyebrows raised in a questioning manner/ "Did you say Leopold Stevens?" the child asked, a few old memories starting to flood his brain. "I know of a Leopold Stevens, albeit our meeting was a short one, I am familiar with the name. Of what relation do you happen to be to any other Leopold Stevens?" Anita blinked at Sei's sudden interest in his opponent and lack of interest in the battle.

The last time Sei had met a Leopold Stevens, it had been in a free for all battle alongside Ashiakin the ice demon, and Sei's old lord, Thoracis. Only slight flashbacks filled the head of the child, but he distinctly remembered some sort of monster engulfing both Leopold and Ashiakin, leaving only Sei and Thor. Those two had chosen to live and fight another day, and called a truce against one another, leaving without any serious injuries.

Now this man before the child claimed himself as Leopold Stevens, though he was probably a descendant of the man Sei fought. The mute had heard rumors of people magically appearing on Althanas, and that Leopold Stevens was one of those people. If that were the case, it would explain why the man before the youth was not accompanied by a chicken. The mystic blinked as he got lost in these thoughts.

Anita had to grab her father's shoulder to snap the mute out of his thoughts. Shaking the butterflies out of his head, Sei gripped his chakrams harder. While it seemed the mystic was preparing for battle, his nerve was actually wavering. If this man was the same blood as the Leopold Stevens Sei had fought, he was a worthy opponent, and would be quite the warrior for Sei to do battle with. Taking in a deep breath, Sei tried to reclaim his lost bravery, and straightened himself up. There was only one way to find out if this was the same Leopold Stevens the mute fought so long ago.

"I will allow you the first strike, sir," Sei said, his face staying stern, though he was shaking a bit on the inside now.

[EarlStevens]

So he knows of this other Leopold Stevens! our man thinks to himself. Seems my double has made himself quite a reputation. A tremor of fear rushes through our hero at the thought of the other Stevens. What dark designs is his doppelganger responsible for, and will he be held accountable for them? It is almost too terrible to contemplate the possibilities. This fellow claims to be a warrior, so does the fact he knows Stevens mean they met on some dark battleground, dipping their swords in blood?

"I don't know any other Leopold Stevens," our man replies, trying to put these thoughts out of his head. "I'm the only person I've ever met with the name, I'm afraid." He begins to feel drops of sweat beading across his skin. This encounter is really going quite far enough. Hearing the child's entreaty for the beginning of battle is no comfort. Our man had expected, in a sick form of hope, that the child would attack first, which would help dampen his guilt at battling the imp. Alas, no luck. Our man grimaces and rubs his chin, trying to collect his thoughts. How to handle this?

"Ah, ha ha," our man chuckles, nervously. "I'm afraid I don't have much experience with battles..." He looks down at his feet, where he is absent-mindly nudging a fragmented piece of stone with the toe of his shoe. "Hrm," he mutters to himself, a plan stewing in his head. "Ah, let me, er, tie my shoe first," he says, internally wincing at the idiocy of his excuse. Not waiting for a response, he bends down and fiddles with his shoelace, pushing the strings from side to side. As he stands, he snatches up the piece of stone and throws it as accurately as he can manage at the child's face. He snaps into his lacklustre defensive position, hoping he has provoked Orlouge into an assault that he can convince himself later was unprovoked.

[Silence Sei]

Sei blinked in awe that this Leopold Stevens knew of no other person by the same name other than himself. The mute found it amazing that Althanas hosted two people of the same name, who carried themselves in the exact same manner, but were not the same person. Then, it struck Sei like a hard slap to the face, this was the Leopold Stevens he had fought so long ago. This man was simply playing a game of wits with the child, trying to break his psyche into thinking too much.

Sei did not remember very well what the Leopold he had faced in battle before looked like, and his opponent seemed to know this. Sei deduced that this was not only Leopold Stevens, but he had bought Orlouge's story of being transformed into a child's body. The only real difference between the Sei of old and this new Sei was just a good foot to a foot and a half of length. Surely, Leopold believed the mystic, and was prepared to for anything the mute would throw at him.

Sei was correct in this assumption, as Leopold told him that he was going to 'tie his shoe'. Sei looked down to the man's feet and found that his shoes were already tied. This struck the mystic as odd, but he simply assumed that Leopold was going to tighten his laces, so his shoes would not come undone during the actual battle. Anita, however, was much less forgiving than that, actually -being- a child and knowing how bullies behaved. "Papa," the girl said calmly, "he's not tying his shoes." Sei looked to Anita with curiosity as Leopold tossed the rock at him.

Sei turned to face the rock that was apparently aimed for his head. It was floating in place, as if by magic, just below the child's jaw. Sei sighed as he looked to his opponent, finding that Leopold's strategy was already working on him. Sei was actually not prepared for the fight as he usually would have been, and as a result, he did not see the rock coming at him when his daughter did. Luckily for the mystic, he always casted his trademark spell before a fight actually started.

"How rude to attack in the guise of tying your shoe," Sei said coldly as the sound of glass shattering filled the quiet graveyard. "As punishment, you shall feel the pain of your own betrayal!" Anita rolled her eyes and Sei oversold his performance to his opponent.

Glass shards broke all around the boy's body, as if he had been surrounded by a mirror. Anita quickly grabbed hold to Sei's chakram as the glass exploded in a dome formation. This was Sei's only real spell, 'Mystic Protection', and unless Leopold could duck behind a tombstone or come into contact with Sei (be it directly or indirectly), he would suffer the wrath of the glass as it flew outwards from the body of the mystic.

[EarlStevens]

Our man has the surreal impression of being a character in an opera or melodramatic musical as Orlouge responds to his sneaky attack. He almost expects a barritone woman wearing a Viking helmet to accompany the little fellow and his so-called daughter. "I think that's a bit harsh, my boy," he replies, smiling condescendingly. "After all, this is battle!" Our man is shocked when he finds out how true his exclamation is, as Orlouge's magical assault takes form. The shattering of the magical sphere around the boy and girl takes our man by surprise, and he stands agape for a few seconds, unsure of what exactly is going on. "It's a... great Scot!" As the shards of glass fly towards him, our hero is stuck to the spot, unsure of what to do.

He remembered learning about magical attacks at university. Once he had met an American necromancer in a pub who had shot an arrow formed from the soul of a dead criminal into a dart board, blowing it to smithereens. Unfortunately, however, he had not found it especially important to learn how to deflect such attacks. No European wizard since 1815 had been legally allowed to perform spells that could cause bodily injury, and wizards were a notoriously law-abiding lot. It was unimaginable that, unless he woke up one morning and found himself facing an army of Persian sorcerers, that he would ever need to know much about magical assaults except how to run away when he saw them. Now, sadly, he finds himself faced with such an attack with no idea of what to do.

The first strike of the attack gives him a better idea. A shard of glass careens into the air and slices into his chin, cutting deep and painfully. Our man falls to the side, grabbing at his wound, collapsing behind a tomb. The shatter of magical glass against stone and earth rings around him as he cradles his bleeding head in his hands. "Joseph and Jesus," he rasps to himself, tears swimming in his eyes. He pulls one hand away from his wound and finds it covered in dark, syrupy blood. He chokes and buries his face into the ground, gritting his teeth.

After a few seconds of thoughtless confusion and pain, our man begins to pull himself together. The blood is flowing around his fingers and down his neck, and needs to be stopped somehow. He pats down his clothes with a bloody hand, smearing his clothes red. Finally, seeing no other option, he grabs at the tie aroud his neck and yanks the Winsot knot loose, pulling the cloth out from under his collar and pressing it to his wound as a makeshift bandage. Feeling that his time as an effective figher is limited, he unbinds the prestidigitation spell from his walkingstick and it jolts into view, seemingly sliding out from up his sleeve into his free hand. Slick with blood, it is hard to get a good grip on the knob, but he manages, twisting it awkwardly, the blade extending from the end. He keeps pressing his tie to his wound, which is still oozing, with his other hand.

Crouched behind this tomb, an eight-foot long marble monstrosity, he doubts Orlogue can see him. Speaking as best he can, and it is difficult with this long gash, he calls out, hoping to attract the unassuming wizard his way. "Hullo, Master Orlogue!" he cries, readying his weapon. "I'm in a bad way here! I don't think I can continue the battle! Can you help me out?"

[Silence Sei]

Sei's initial attack (or rather, his counter-attack) had been used as effectively as possible against his opponent. Sei did not even notice how serious the injuries on Leopold Stevens was until he saw the blood fly from the mans chin and stain the green grass a fine crimson color. Sei's eyes changed from one of a battle hardened warrior to one of a gentle, caring soul. It did not help that Leopold was now crying out for the child's help, claiming he was 'in a bad way'. Sei began to step towards the tombstone he had watched his opponent fall behind.

He was suddenly jerked by someone's hand as he got closer to the monument, however. looking over his left shoulder, Sei found his daughter shaking her head, a serious look on her face. "Something is wrong here, Papa," she whispered, "I thought I felt a spell being cast when he went behind the tombstone." Sei blinked a little, the mute having doubts about his daughter's ability to sense magic like true wizards and magicians could.

"He needs help, Anita," Sei said, a look of doubt in his eyes, "I have to help him, it's what I do. If it's a trap, then this man will be punished for his misdeeds and I will be saved. If it's not, I can not just let him die here, even if the citadel monks can revive him." Anita began to protest again, but it was too late, Sei was already removing his shoulder from his daughter's grasp and heading towards the tombstone again.

The girl's eyes widened and she paniced, thinking her papa may have made a fatal mistake in trusting his opponent once again. She was not thinking like her father at that point, but more like a child concerned for her father's safety. Before Sei could reach his target, Anita ran past him, her legs carrying her as fast as she could as she stopped where the two had heard the gentleman's voice from. If it was a trap, Anita would make the sacrifice to prove that, while she was proficient in magic sensing, she was profiecient in bully sensing.

The girl closed her eyes, the clear droplets running down her cheeks as she stood for what felt like an eternity to hopefully save her father.

[EarlStevens]

Our man hears the pattering approach of small feet on the grass. Thus his enemy approaches. His ruse has worked, and the trap is sprung. Tensing his muscles, he prepares to strike. For a few moments, he considers whether or not he should attack. Can he really strike down a child like this? The briefest of concerns passes through his mind. If he attacks a young boy like this, whether armed or not, what does that say about him? Will it condemn him in the eyes of these fairies or in the eyes of God? He shakes his head, pushing away his trepidation. This is obviously not a child, at least not a normal one. With magical power like that, it can't be anything other than a magician in disguise or some horrible trick being played upon him by a hidden warrior, somewhere in the graveyard, trying to lure him into complacency before delivering the death blow. Our hero grits his teeth, which lances a fiery pain across his face, from the gash on his chin to his wrinkled brow, and grips his cane tighter. Blood oozes through his fingers.

The approaching footsteps have reached the edge of the sarcophagus, and our man knows the time to strike has come. Bunching up his fleeting courage, he lifts himself on an elbow and leans forward, jabbing up at the figure that has appeared along the rim of the stone coffin. He can't tell who it is, exactly, but it's small enough to be his earlier attacker. Unless, of course, it's his "daughter," our hero thinks to himself, But I highly doubt that...

[Silence Sei]

He stopped dead in his tracks as he watched it. It was like a horror movie playing in slow motion before him. Out of nowhere, Leopold Stevens had jutted out from the tomb he was waiting behind and struck. Anita had been right, it was an ambush, and now Sei was paying for his foolishness. He had to watch as his daughter was impaled through the stomach with a blade. Sei could not truly believe he was watcxhing what he was. It had to be an illusion.

But when Anita turned around, her eyes filled with tears, she slowly smiled at her papa. She had fufilled her duty and saved her father from a perilous death. She had given her father the greatest gift, but also delivered the greatest punishment all in one fell swoop. Slowly, an arm reached out to her father, to touch him, tug on him one last time before she faded away, but Sei was frozen. He could not tell if he was paralyzed from fear, anger, or a combination of the two.

The arm fell to her side as her limbs all slumped downwards.As soon as Sei saw that his daughter's chest was no longer moving in and out, he could move once more. There would be no more time for talking, that was done. Leopold Stevens had finally crossed the line with his latest atrocity to the mute. The telepath was going to make the gentleman pay with everything he had. Sei leapt off of the ground and straight towards Leo, throwing a punch as hard as he could.

His target was not the man, however, but the tomb he had hid behind. The child smashed it with uncanny strength, drawing bleeding scrapes and scratches upon his knuckles. Sei did not care, however, he did not feel it if he had broken his hand with that single hit. All he cared about was that Anita was not moving anymore and it was his fault. Sei had to find a target besides himself to direct the anger he felt within at. Unfortunately, that target was named Leopold Stevens.

As soon as Sei had hit the tomb with his right hand, he followed up with a left, this time aiming for jaw of the man before him. Sei was hoping the shattered granite would either distract or hurt Leopold long enough for Sei to deliver a blow of similar power to his head. Leopold Stevens would die tonight by the hands of the 'Hero of Radasanth', and everybody would know that Anita Orlouge was not ever to be touched.

[Silence Sei]

He could feel the bones shatter; both the ones in his hand and in Earl Stevens' face. His blow had struck true, and the force of the blow had slammed into his opponent so hard, his head was sent reeling back. The adrennaline rush left Sei's body quickly, two broken hands would do that. Breathing heavily, still shaking from the anger at the death of his daughter, the child threw up his limp hands in a 'come on' fashion.

" GET! UP! NOW!" Sei shouted into the mind of Leopold Stevens, a man he once thought could one day be his friend. No response had come from the body. Sei taunted his foe again, this time using words most inappropriate for a child to use. Once more, the body laid motionless over the rubble of the grave behind him. It was not until a small pool of blood flowed out from under the body of the man that Sei had realized what had happened.

While the punch was powerful enough to break the nose of Leopold Stevens (Sei had enough blood speckles on his fist to prove that), it would not be enough to actually kill the full grown man. Sei walked around to the other side of the man, his cheeks filling with his own vomit as he saw the rock fragment jutting into the head of the college graduate. He allowed his stomach contents to empty on the ground below, some of it mixing with the blood of his opponent. The fight had been won, but Sei had broken his promise, and lost his daughter in the process.

He returned to the body of the girl, sitting down and bowing his head. It would take over an hour for the monks to come and work their magic. In that hour, Sei had blamed himself for every minute mistake he had made in this battle. He had been too trusting of the man, and for that he had paid. Just as he had started this battle praying for the dead, he did the same for the newly deceased as well.

It was on this day that Sei Orlouge made himself a solemn vow. For every life he took, directly or indirectly, he would create a grave. Not an imaginary one like the one before him, but an actual graveyard, hidden in Radasanth. He would dig the holes with his bare hands, chip in the names with his knuckles. It was his self-appointed penance and apology to the dead.

And it was on that day that Sei Orlouge swore he would never again go back on a vow...

[Breaker]

Music: You don't just wanna' break me by Hawksley Workman
Mood: Chillin'

Silence Sei vs EarlStevens

Condensed rubric.

Story ~ 20/30 ~ 16/30

Character ~ 18/30 ~ 22/30

Writing Style ~ 18/30 ~ 20/30

Wildcard ~ 6/10 ~ 4/10

Total ~ 62/100 ~ 62/100

Sei receives: 3000 exp (1500 x 2 for finishing an unresolved and submitting it before deadline), 0 GP

Leopold receives: 3000 exp (See Sei), 0 GP

[Silence Sei]

Exp-GP added.

Earl and Sei leveled up!