-
His bushy blacked haired foe leapt to his feet before him. His bangs swaying in the air and his arms waving, not frantically, but defensively. He grabbed the wounded skeletons attention in the best way he could, using the most universal method for surrender a human could show. His hands up in the air, open palmed and unarmed, all he needed now was a flailing white flag.
His posture now reflected that of a surrendering, defeated man, but his dark eyes, black like the midnight sky, hinted at an idea. An opportunity or suggestion that he was an intelligent man, an intellectual who could offer more than just being a brief shed of blood for the streets of Radasanth. There was nothing subtle about his explanation; the begging of a man who while not totally defeated, believed there was nothing to gain from participating in this battle any further.
Disappointing...Is it really ending this way?
Elite lost a degree of spirit, his once radiant persona now disintegrating before them, as his first impressions of such an impressive man quickly waned. Still, the battle already felt somewhat one-sided, for what had they offered in return, but a moment of fiery fun? Elite had only been damaged by his allies own incompetence, and these two men did seem to desire escape beyond that of any real bloodshed.
The tone of his voice felt rather dull and disorientated, but within the monotone rant, he held somewhat of an understanding of Elite's existence. Rayse, while not entirely correct in his assumption of Elite's personality, was not also not entirely wrong. Like a begging peasant before a mighty warlord, he made his point and addressed an appeal towards the battle hardened behemoth that stood over him.
"Incentive?" Elite questioned the man's incorrect belief that Elite has any incentive to combat them in the first place. "You attacked me, albeit foolishly, and I merely replied in due course of violence. I have nothing to lose or gain from this induction."
Elite's fiery eyes glanced over to the bloody, bleeding man on the dirty, dusty, cobbled ground. Lay there like a broken flower trampled by a galloping horse, he looked at an end of which could not be resolved, not without serious treatment.
You did it to yourself...What could you possibly offer me now?
Elite found himself at the crossroads of choice, a moment in which the rest of this situation, the rest of this potential fight, rested within his next choice. Did these men deserve to die? Probably. But what were they originally running from? What did they really have to offer that was more dangerous than all of them combined? Rayse's words hung in his mind, his decision, his choice.
What would Sorian do?
Shinsou's battered body and soul would have to remain on the floor for now. As intriguing as his presence had been during these past few weeks, if he was dead, then there was nothing Elite could do about it now. Elite's momentary glance was about as much sympathy as he was going to get right now, Elite would leave the rest to Sorian.
"Enlighten me, human," Elite didn't surrender his readiness for battle but was all ears. "Please explain to me where you are heading, and of what interest it could really be to me?"
-
Shinsou Van Osiris was dead. The blood flecked face of Storm’s accomplice lacked any discernible emotion, stunning Veritas to see such nonchalance in a place where fear, remorse, or pity clearly belonged. The wake of Rayse Valentino was swift and terrible; his wrath and capabilities were clearly obscene. Rayse, a man who Storm had once considered a peer was of unimaginable power. The electromancer struggled to breathe as his lungs burned, as a fleeting consideration danced through his mind. Perhaps it was the matchup of the magicians against these two that favored Rayse’s power, but any justification was a pittance against the drumbeat of reality that Storm Veritas was of trivial power against these others. For this fleeting moment, he was able to swallow this blow to his ego, desperate to make use of his partner in crime’s abilities to cauterize his terrible wounds.
He had anticipated pain. He knew the wound would fester and kill him if left untreated. There were no medics or healers available to stitch or mend him. It was the only way. When the pain arrived, there was still no respite.
Holy shit… Gyaaahhhh!!!
For all of the driving agony that rang through his arm and side as Valentino blasted his skin with searing heat, his body would only tolerate so much. His vision blurred as his eyes dilated dramatically, the white-blue of his eyes being dominated by thick black pupils. His heart raced and slowed, his skin sweating a cold, clammy residue despite the physical heat. Dizzy, the only thing that kept him conscious was the hammering odor, the rancid scent of burning flesh. He had smelled it before, but this stench held an awful edge that would never be dulled.
Mercifully, it was over in moments. The heat subsided, his body falling near lifelessly to the brick wall behind him as he exhaled and gasped once more. Had he screamed? Cried? These were moments that were lost to him, memories gone by that would not be recovered. In fear, Storm glanced down to his right hand, relieved to see the pulsing energy he had collected had simply subsided; he had not lashed out at the man who hurt him to save him. Scanning about, it took him time to re-acclimate. Perhaps he had fainted, but if he had gone down, he was up just as quickly.
The sun’s bright light burned his eyes now, his breath returning to his lungs, albeit in short, spasmodic intervals. His left arm felt dead to him; it was numb and burned from the shoulder down and he dared not even glance at the cotton-wrapped atrocity beneath his arm. The lack of pain made him afraid again; if his nerves were burned, to what extent could he recover?
And what in the actual f*ck are we still doing here?
In spite of all the absurdity he had witnessed, nothing seemed stranger to him than the sight of Rayse Valentino speaking clearly to Elite Optic, the scene bizarre as a goliath bone-god appeared to actually be listening to the man of fire. A natural inclination to avoid predators, Storm sat perfectly still and observed, looking for a way to escape this ridiculous charade.
The possibility that the entire bounty laid before the assassination was merely a ploy in the first place finally crept into the wizard’s mind. Given time to consider the details of it all, a second helping of paranoia turned his stomach with a retch. The words of Elite Optic rang hollow as a deeper consideration sickened him.
Has this whole f*cking thing been built on a foundation of bullshit!?
-
((Cavum Ira and events in this post approved by all parties on condition that all abilities are locked at level 3))
Where the fuck am I? What happened?
Peeling from the darkness of oblivion, Shinsou Vaan Osiris stepped from the frigid void into the cold greys of Radasanth. The afternoon was made dark by heavy and cumbersome rain clouds that had rolled over the city, ones that hung there for what seemed like an eternity. It started to precipitate in sheets, bombarding the cobbles beneath his feet and kicking up spats of loose mud and grime. As the rain bounced off of his skin, the Telgradian looked down upon himself and was stunned to see there were no wounds. Checking himself twice, thrice, and once again after, Shinsou realised he was completely clean of any cuts or blood.
How is this possible? I was lay there, in that exact spot in the alley. I was dying in a pool of my own blood. Also, where the hell am I? Is this Radasanth? Where is everyone?
It wasn’t the Radasanth the Telgradian had come to know and definitely not the city he had been in what seemed like moments ago. The bustling streets were devoid of life and seemed cold and numb in the drab shadows of the clouds. As with the uncertainty of this strange, ethereal place ahead of him, there was the same uncertainty again about the violence of this storm. Just when Shinsou thought the rain looked as if it had done its worst, another two or three downpours would come in sudden bursts, the silver sheets driven by the wind to spatter against the landscape of the city’s stone labyrinth like grapeshot. With one final glance from the mouth of the alleyway where he had last remembered being lay, Shinsou carefully secured the buttons that held his greatcoat together in order to prevent the harsh winds from tearing into him.
"Where is this place?” Shinsou muttered, shaking his soaked brown hair as he stumbled out of the cool alleyway in which he thought he had died. A smell of burning wood hung on the air and it mixed with that abrupt feeling of isolation as he sauntered into the street. His soft, golden eyes veered through the rain and across the empty, rugged buildings not so far away. Shinsou could see the something ahead of him, something that seemed like pieces of broken stone pillars placed in formation on an obsidian pedestal.
What is that?
As soon as the Telgradian had noticed it, a familiar, horrible, rotting stench of flesh wafted into his nostrils, carried by the wind. It almost made him heave instantly but somehow he managed to keep the contents of his stomach down. Suddenly, the rain got heavier once again. Twenty thousand drumbeats pounded their snare patters on the roofs of the buildings around him. Second by second, new beats joined them, turning single, meaningless droplets into a never-ending cascade that washed over roads and down windows.
Suddenly, a new feeling crawled up Shinsou’s spine. It was a gripping cold, the unmistakeable tinge of that thick, dark Jal Shey power. There was no creature alive in this place, so why did Shinsou feel he was being watched?
“We meet again at last, my Emperor. Looks like you were too weak without my power. It would be inconvenient for me if you were to die. I can’t allow it.”
Like a hint of dawn, a single shred of light appeared in the inky, cloud smudged sky above the Telgradian. The raindrops turned to crimson, dropped by their tainted millions from the imposing tangle of clouds overhead, forming a pool of deep, thick red that covered more of the street’s floor than Shinsou’s eyes could render. The bitter odours of the blood rain mixed with the scents of rotting meat made Shinsou physically sick.
“What do you mean? Who are you?” Shinsou asked sharply in reply.
Then, with a mighty boom, the beast incarnate appeared before him, naked and salivating. Its skin was as black as jet and its muscles were toned, ripped and fiercely built. The whites of its eyes were ink black, accented by fierce gold irises. Its fingers were replaced by black claws and its teeth seemed to be external and all incisor-like.
“I am you. You are me. We are one, bound by flesh and fate.” Was the response, a beastly growl underpinning the tone of its voice. “We are Cavum Ira together, but because of your evident weakness I must now carry this alone.”
In a single smooth stroke, the edge of a razor sharp claw sliced through the hundreds of falling droplets and penetrated the bloodied, wet skin of Telgradian’s throat. Shinsou’s brown, dishevelled hair tumbled about the wind in heavy, saturated strands as his physical form in this place began to dissolve into the wind. There was no time for words from the Telgradian, but one last glaring look of shock and dismay told the whole of the story.
“It is done,” growled the hulking form of Cavum Ira as a steady stream of crimson rain forked down his teeth, “…I will ensure our survival from here, Telgradian!”
After a moment, the scenery of the real Radasanth suddenly tore back into focus, though once again askew. The cobblestone street that expanded out from the mouth of the alleyway still levitated on a thirty degree tilt. The sodden, cold stone of the passageway rested against the beast’s now blackened right cheek and the bitter odours of rotting garbage coalesced with that of the grime and rotting meat. Ribbons of dark energy lashed and tore at the stone surroundings, violent sparks of electricity smashing into the brickwork and scattering plaster shrapnel in all directions.
“URGHGHGGHHAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”
The only sound in that moment was that which echoed from the passageway. It was a blood curdling scream, one no longer of man but instead of beast; a beast fuelled with anger and hate. Where once Shinsou lay, the Jal Shey lord Cavum Ira now knelt in the bloodied pool, his white eyes ablaze with fury and pearl white, fang-like teeth slick with saliva.
-
"Wait. Really?"
There was no reason for the giant skeleton to lie, right? Had Storm assumed that familiar faces were here to hunt him down, but it was just a coincidence? This put Rayse's entire theory into question. He stared at the cobblestones in thought, wondering where he had gone wrong. In his quest to avoid falling victim to a conspiracy, had he made one up?
What are the odds that the most reputable mercenary organization was compromised, as well as the city guard? Shit, have I just been wasting time here?
If Storm and Rayse failed to show up for the kill fee, their prize would be forfeit. It was a common tactic to make it difficult to appear at the right place and time so as not to pay, instead claiming absence on the part of the mercenaries. Maybe the guards were tipped off to make this happen, but then again Rayse had no proof that the port was covered in guards... He was just following a trend. A dull ache grew in his head, and he pressed each palm into his temples, the sensation of a buried rage rising to the surface.
Calm down, you idiot! Don't get mad! Relax! Don’t give that demoness the satisfaction!
When he was trapped in the otherworldly planes, Rayse was cursed. Despite his best efforts, the spell was permanent, and he had no escape from the damnation. It was a curse with a simple condition: if he became infuriated, it would open a portal to the demoness' realm, and his death would be assured. In the few months that had passed, his efforts toward a more stoic outlook were successful, at the risk of appearing detached from reality. However, keeping everything bottled up carried risks of its own. If he was pushed too far, it would be over. He swore under his breath for allowing himself to enter a situation that drew so much of his ire.
Taking a job of this magnitude necessitated collateral. For Rayse, money was an easy option, so instead they required something that evoked sentimentality. They were going to keep his locket, the one with a picture of a rose with a blood-red droplet hanging from its petal. It was the emblem of the Barton family, his mother's family; the only thing that existed in the world anymore that was hers. In his recklessness to subdue the rage in his heart, had he lost something important? The thought was tearing him apart.
It was the scream that brought him back from the brink. While the dark energies of Psycho-Shin leaking from the passageway were a stunning sight, it was his partner in crime who had his attention. Maybe he overestimated Storm's condition, maybe the lightning mage wasn't capable of escaping on his own anymore.
Shit... Storm...
The man had saved his life. It wasn't the first time Rayse's piggishness caused the people around him to suffer. Everyone he ever knew in this business died eventually, and it always seemed to be his fault. Was Storm next? Was he going to lose his prize, his locket, and his friend in the same day?
"Sorry, Elite," Rayse said, his back still turned to the one-armed giant. He made the fatal mistake of turning his back on the body, and now a feeling of dread washed over him. "It's too dangerous here to talk further. I promise I'll get you a fight so amazing that you’ll grow a heart and start pumping adrenaline through it. But for now, I'm heading to port twelve."
He ran to Storm, who wasn't looking any better since he left him. Without the cloth holding them in, the volatile liquids sloshed around in the satchel. "We're leaving. Get away from the wall."
While Storm hobbled onto the street, Rayse went around the lightning wizard and backpedaled some twenty feet from Storm. He was still worried about the dark mage, and everything in his damn bag was useless now, so with a spin he tossed the bag over in the direction of Shin. He pointed at it with his right hand, and a flame curled around the index finger. The ring started glowing, and then a small, fast-moving burst of light flew from his finger, hitting the bag in mid-air and igniting it as it approached Shin.
Without waiting for the impending explosion of the makeshift bomb, Rayse prepared to transport both him and Storm to safety. A flame spread across his frame until it engulfed his body. With a grunt he burst into a sprint, threatening to completely knock Storm over. Instead, right as he reached him, he stretched out his arm and placed it on his fellow assassin’s shoulder.
The next moment, both of them were gone, having turned into fast-moving wisps of flame that dove into an alley on the opposite side of the street from the source of the scream. When they reappeared, Rayse had to put his arm in front of Storm so that his accomplice wouldn't fall to the ground from the momentum. He looked into Storm's eyes, a terrible feeling running up his spine. Something was still very wrong, but at this point there was nothing he could do about it.
"Forget about what I said back there. We... we just need to make it to the port, alright? Let's claim the prize together."
-
False truths and broken promises, they were all the same, they were no different from anyone else. No different from the people who lied to save their sorry lives, no different from the cheats who tried to hide their sins and no different to the lies of a child who hoped to avoid a spanking. Rayse dangled a carrot and then did not reward, now Elite was quickly going back to square one, and nothing was more boring than square one.
Rayse never seemed totally afraid, confident enough to turn away from Elite before advancing to safety. He needed to save his friend, and he needed to get his reward, for whatever misdeeds he and Storm had accomplished together, he seemed honourable enough to keep his colleague alive and share the bounty.
Honourable to a friend, treacherous to a stranger. Why do they always lie to me? Or do they fear me so much they cannot admit the truth? Cowards.
Elite felt enraged inside, he had been interrupted in his morning routine, he had been engaged to duel, prepared to shed blood and then denied his pleasure; just when it was getting interesting.
The bone giant stood still within the centre of the tarnished street. Marked with blood and graced with steel, the empty street was watched by the eyes of the many horrified residents, all hidden behind walls and peering through windows. Elite couldn't feel the wind as it breezed over his bones, he couldn't smell the nervous sweat that hung in the air but he could hear the hum of their frightened heart beats. What was to happen next relied entirely on Elite's next decision, for Sorian had faltered with his patience and as long as Elite met him at the other end, nothing else mattered.
Elite was left with a choice, albeit a boring one. Did he waste his time and pursue the wounded miscreant and his bushy haired counterpart, or did he turn to face the rising beast that now roared before him? Shinsou Vann Osiris was now something else, a challenge maybe, or an amusement for the time being.
Elite gripped his sword tightly and prepared once more.
"Oh, what a pathetic start to the day..."
-
Trikkkt-thip! Trikkt-thip! Trikkt-thip!
The ugly, sickening rhythm of the badly wounded adventurer trying to make his way across hard stone held all the hope of a Salvarian in a sauna. Convinced at his fate, Storm considered stopping, and simply letting the cowl of death fall over him.
What’s the point? You’re royally screwed. You’re half f*cking dead. It’s over.
The taste of blood in his mouth was heavy, metallic, and about the only element in the course of events that could serve to ground Storm Veritas. The periphery of his vision was clouded with shadows; the sound of his steps were faint, sickening things that only called to attention his terrible condition. Even the voices he heard banging around his head registered as little more than tinny echoes. The wizard believed that he had heard Rayse say something; there was the deep bass sound that came from Elite Optic that probably carried some historical yet hedonistic disapproval. For all of his idiotic appearance, the goliath seemed to be an intellectual device of war. Worse than the absence of clear sight or vivid sound was the lack of feeling. His memory of agony had already distilled into something more abstract, and in its place his entire body had gathered no more than a sense of numbness.
Only the taste gave him something that connected him to the living plane. He couldn’t hear the whispers of aghast townspeople as he stumbled his way behind Valentino. The two moved quickly – at least as quickly as the lightning magician could muster – and traveled through the network of alleys that latticed the “second city” of Radasanth. Behind the sun bleached marble and granite edifices of main street, the back alley of must, urine, and stale alcohol lingered amidst the miscreant flotsam citizens that drifted in and out of the attention of local constables. These people wouldn’t remember two more travelers, since they rarely carried compassion to concern themselves with others, nor any hint of sobriety sufficient to focus on any details they may stumble across.
“I’m okay. Stop looking back. Keep pushing. Keep moving. I’m fine.”
His repeated words to the man that had saved him were no more than lip service, of course. The reality was simple enough; he had a very vested interest in continuing on, and getting the hell out of town. He needed real medical attention or healing with a genuine desperation, but any help in town would certainly come coupled with questioning for the morning’s kill that he wouldn’t be able to explain.
Keep moving, let the wounds fester and infection poison me, or stay in town and let them hang me. All for a bullshit trap and a payday that you’ll never see. Absolutely f*cking genius, you stupid asshole.
His self-deprecation generated a smile on his face, another spark of life that gave him purpose. There was plenty for him to live for, regardless of how bleak his present circumstances were.
Storm had to keep going, to find Karuka and Taische, and make things right.
Storm had to keep going, to protect Rayse from incrimination or attack, and find a way to return the favor he was just granted.
Storm had to keep going, to find the man that had orchestrated this trap. He would find the man who had consigned Elite Optic and Shinsou Van Osiris, and positioned them in the path of returning for his kill fee, unbeknownst to them. He would find the man who sprung the hoards of people upon them, ensuring that the faces of the assassins had been seen dozens of times the morning of the assassination. He would find the man, and he would make him squeal.
Another smile, this one wider and more self assured, crawled across Storm’s face with a newfound sense of purpose.
Trikkkt-thip! Trikkt-thip! Trikkt-thip!
The same sound was no longer dull, wounded and desperate. The same sound was a reminder of his perseverance and strength. He wouldn’t die; at least not today. There was work to do.
There is no motivation for a villain more powerful than vengeance.
-
Something moved in Cavum Ira’s peripherals as the newly manifested beast turned his head towards the bag that had been thrown at him from the street, its contents almost spilling out. Suddenly, a burst light of light exploded inches from the Jal Shey lord’s face and a searing eruption of flame broke the silence. Accompanied by a terrible screech of pain, the foul roars of the Jal Shey rattled through the lifeless bricks and mortar of Radasanth, spreading a chill across a now silent and almost empty street scarred by jagged craters and reeking of death. With a pained grunt, Cavum Ira scrambled to his clawed feet and staggered into the open street, struggling against the intensifying burning on his visage as he instinctively sought his attacker. Shards of glass from Rayse’s bottles of incendiaries riddled his black skin, drawing thick streams of inky blood from the wounds that forked down his chest and neck.
He stopped sharp and scanned his surroundings, instinctively gripping Enpera. The spears of Enpera Kurohitsugi were still forged within the pulsating portal behind him as they had done with Shinsou. They were the Telgradian’s badge of office in this fight, representing both his power and the weight of responsibility he felt for taking down the electromancer and his tricky counterpart. As Cavum Ira searched frantically, seeing nothing but the damaged frame of Elite Optic in the street surrounding him, he snarled wildly. His attackers had fled. Few knew just how much he revelled in the chance to deliver oblivion to those who challenged his might, and even less knew of how vengeful this Jal Shey could be in the face of cowardly aggression.
The beast punched the stones beneath him in a fit of fury, creating a web of fissures in the cobbles.
“Cowards! Come out of the shadows! I’ll send you straight to hell!” He roared, saliva dripping from the tips of his fangs.
The fact there was no-one left to fight hit Cavum Ira especially hard. It felt as if Shinsou had betrayed him by being weak and allowing his opponents to escape. He longed for his share of the violence.
Then, he sensed it. There was a growing hunger in the skeletal colossus near him, a lust for blood and gore, for conflict. He could feel the titanic warrior’s eyes taking an interest in him. This sensation kept the Jal Shey lord from losing heart even as he realised there was nothing left to attack but Shinsou’s ally. The dark beast hailing from Telgradia’s black regions was fiercely conditioned for war, for strength of body, mind and soul focused entirely on delivering annihilation to any who opposed him. Cavum Ira alone was able to practice the arcane dark arts of both the Telgradian and Jal Shey races, trained to oppose even the gods. He was a weapon; it was his right to be wielded.
“You,” The beast crowed, “I smell the blood of thousands upon your bones! You are caked in the gore of the fallen. The honour now falls to you to entertain me…”
The afternoon sun beat down on the days’ bloodshed, and a bleak, void-like stillness enveloped Cavum Ira and the hulking skeletal form of Elite Optic as they stared each other down. The battle for control of the streets was over, but the battle for satisfaction of hungry souls loomed ahead.
-
That day, a pair of ghosts traveled through the city, leaving a trail of embers wafting in the air. Once they had left the impromptu battlefield, the guards decide to pursue the duo. With Storm moving at a snail's pace, Rayse had to use his abilities liberally to evade capture. The thought of leaving Storm behind never crossed his mind. Every look he took at the lightning wizard's fragile form only reinvigorated the contractor's efforts. After a particularly strenuous display of his fiery teleportation, a wave of nausea washed over Rayse, causing him to nearly lose what little hydration he had left. Turning to fire this many times was exhausting.
Gotta get to the docks... not just for this bullshit job, but because the river is our best bet out of here.
Even though the late Senator's actions caused several of Rayse's accounts to be frozen, he still had more than enough to purchase a bright, sea-faring vessel. He was going to surprise Storm with it, but at this point neither of them could give less of a shit. It was amazing that Storm was still breathing, given the extent of the damage, but he looked like a man on a mission.
As Rayse initially suspected, the port was teeming with guards. At least his boat was safe, due to paying off the port security to pretend to have searched it when asked. Where the cobblestones ended, wooden platforms extending far into the waters began. Wooden crates littered the platforms like an infestation, likely due to the shipping routes being backed up. He only had one more shot at the whole disappearing act, but that required them to be closer to the boat in question. The last thing they needed was to barrel through a swarm of armored buffoons. They concealed themselves in a labyrinth of wooden containers.
Storm, however, had a different plan in mind. His face had grown considerably more pale, but his eyes were no less determined. Using the crates to support himself, he started frantically searching for their contact. He wanted to make his unseen adversary bleed as much as he had. Each step was laborious, each breath followed by a hacking cough.
Rayse looked around for anything flammable to serve as a distraction, finally settling on a container filled with rich tapestries. They were in the middle of loading it when the guards cleared the dockworkers out, so it was perfectly exposed. Once he secured Storm on the yacht, he was going to look for the middle man in charge of confirming the bounty. He looked over to make sure Storm was ready, but his accomplice was gone. He walked over to where he last saw the man, thinking that maybe Storm had just turned the corner and was right there. He walked around the crate, only catching a hint of Storm's bleeding body lying on the ground.
He didn't even have a chance to react. The world was frozen, the commotion being replaced by a dark, serene silence. Rayse could no longer feel, no longer think. He had become a statue. In fact, everything had.
Everything but one man. His wakizashi was still covered in Storm's blood, and he took great care not to get any of it on his suit. Shigure Taisuke was the sole inhabitant of this world of statues and silence, but there was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation in his heart. He placed his free hand on Rayse's forehead, and a rush of information entered Shigure's mind. He spent the next few seconds walking around the contractor, taking in who exactly he had caught in his web. He thought Storm was big, but the memory of Rayse was too intriguing to ignore. He still had the cigar in his mouth, but he plucked it out and let it fall to the ground. It only fell for a brief moment before becoming suspended in the air.
Shigure didn't talk much while he was in the realm of sounds and motion, but here he liked the fact that his voice was the only source of sound in the entire world. "Huh, looks like you were on to something there, kid. Should've trusted your instincts. Your buddy there turned out to be smarter than you, although you're both blithering idiots." Shigure pushed away the very air as he walked, as if it was escaping from him, as if he didn't belong. "Every time I come here, I wonder about what I'm actually doing. I'm not really learned in the ways of magic, it just sort of chanced upon me, much like you. Did I just stop time for everything in the port? Everything in the city? The world? Nobody has that kind of power. I might be doing something else." He walked around to Rayse's back, briefly wondering if they had the same tailor. Rayse clearly had no good sense however, as he got Storm's blood all over his vest and slacks.
He walked back around to Rayse's front. "Maybe it's some form of super speed. I'm moving so fast that everything else is in slow motion. Again, that seems a bit grandiose for a single human." He stopped, his breath freezing just a few inches in front of his face. "Yet, I can still breathe here. Or maybe I'm not really breathing, who knows? My personal theory, one I've been toying around with the last dozen times I did this, is that I'm in another plane. I entered a plane where time flows slower, where thoughts can be transferred by mere touch. Oh well, maybe I should just give up trying to figure this out. Although, one thing's for sure.
Nobody has ever survived this explanation."
He plunged the blade deep into Rayse's chest, sending him to wherever the hell bastards like him and Storm ended up.
-
Storm Veritas
Plot 22/30
Story 7/10
I liked the overall story you wove, and how you continued to bring up hints at Storm’s paranoia. You wove a compelling tale from start to finish, and provided plenty of compelling moments to draw the reader in completely. With that said, the ending felt abrupt, especially with Rayse getting the death post in for your character, and thus I had to dock you a little for that. It read well, but it felt like it needed something more from Storm himself.
Setting 8/10
You have a knack for describing settings in a way that makes them vibrant without becoming overbearing. An incredible vernacular and ability to reference the smallest details through action or thought in a most natural way makes this one of your strongest categories. The ebb and flow of the crowds, the death of the bystander, helped to enhance the tale.
Pacing 7/10
I docked you here for the same reason as in story. Storm’s death at the hands of Shigure felt too convenient, and too quick. There was this build-up of Storm’s resilience, and then it was ended abruptly in an almost anti-climatic way. Overall, the pacing aside from the ending was well thought out, and as a reader it felt comfortable.
Character 24/30
Communication 8/10
You consistently do a remarkable job at maintaining the character of your lightning mage assassin no matter the circumstance. Not only are his words and thoughts calculated, so too are his actions and quirks. Storm’s dialogue is never obnoxiously long or drawn out, and it fits him so well as a character. On the flip side, though, sometimes the dialogue feels thrown in as filler. An occassional curse word muttered begins to feel repetitive and contrived, at least to me.
Action 7/10
The actions Storm takes, the way he takes them, the thought put into them - or the lack thereof at the end - felt to me as a reader as just right for the character. I never questioned what he was doing or why, and that is a high mark to reach. Even as he endured the sheer pain of Rayse’s flames to cauterize his wounds, it read comfortably and right on point. The only thing I could ask from you more comes back to the lack of a real concluding post from you specifically. I sense that final post would have yielded that bit extra of action this thread needed to feel truly complete.
Persona 9/10
Storm is who he is, and he doesn’t seem amenable to changes to himself. For him, it works. After years and years of torment, battle, and death, he understands his role and place in the world and adheres to it. Even when wounded, he finds ways to surprise while still remaining true to who he is. I applaud you for that.
Prose 26/30
Mechanics 8/10
Even on the Flames’ scale of mechanical aptitude, you succeeded with a nearly flawless mechanical piece. I’m impressed, as I tend to be a nazi on even the minor things and yet I found myself having to finetooth comb the hell out of your posts to even find one mechanical flaw.
Clarity 9/10
The way you write makes it easy to understand the points you are trying to make. As a reader, I never found myself lost in the midst of an action or a thought wondering why or how. As I noted above, you have a calculating manner to everything with how you write, and it just works so well.
Technique 9/10
You never went overboard with your use of technique, and as the reader, I most certainly appreciated it. You never became wordy in a description or explanation, and yet there were subtle nods to great technique in your use of appropriate semicolons, pregnant pauses, etc.
Wildcard 10/10
Total 82/100
Rayse Valentino
Plot 21/30
Story 7/10
Much like with Storm’s notes above, you wove a generally believable and enjoyable tale. My only real qualm was the ending of the thread, and I would assume the ending suffered as a result of the time crunch. Still, outside of the ending, this thread is better than the others of yours I have read.
Setting 7/10
You tended to avoid utilizing the setting, but you did a decent job of maintaining your posts within the confines of it. You did a good job of dropping the bit of the roof onto Elite Optic, and I liked your escape through the meandering alleys and walkways of Radasanth. Still, the setting itself, from your posts, more or less seemed like it just existed and less like it held purpose. The early parts of the threads could have happened in most any town or city, but you pulled back some quality here by your final couple of posts and the use of the docks.
Pacing 7/10
As I noted with Storm, it was the final post that didn’t sit well with me, and it wasn’t in how you wrote it. It was too abrupt, and I would imagine given more time to flesh this story out more there would be something more to the Shigure and Rayse bits. Still, the rest of the thread moved along nicely, and I never found myself feeling jarred by a post or anything of the sort.
Character 26/30
Communication 8/10
The threads of yours I have read have yielded a progression in your ability to write Rayse, both as a believable character and in how he speaks and acts. I’ve seen strong character development - did Rayse really insinuate Storm was a friend??? - and very good use of nicknames in the forms of petty insults. I applaud you for your growth in character overall. Well done.
Action 9/10
I liked how you used Rayse’s fire form to escape multiple situations, and I especially like how it put a strain on his endurance and stamina. It made him entirely believable and I was able to connect with him as the reader.
Persona 9/10
I mentioned above in Communication about your growth in writing Rayse as a believable character. Your introductions remain a bit flat overall, but your writing once you get into a thread is far and away some of my favorite. The development of Rayse as a person, and the subtle changes along the way, makes him relatable to the level where I begin to feel for him at times. Heck, I even felt like I was rooting for him to pull off the whole “Elite Optic, let’s just stop this silly battle.”
Prose 23/30
Mechanics 7/10
Whereas Storm was mostly flawless, you had a few moments - where it felt like you rushed a bit of what you were trying to write. Even still, those moments weren’t overly noticeable, and if I weren’t running through this thread with a finetooth comb, I’d probably skim right over them. The sliding scale for Mechanics in this tournament has been nazi-levels of strict, so take heart in your score here not being nearly as bad as it might seem.
Clarity 8/10
There was a moment where the clarity muddied a bit, where Rayse is beginning to realize he’s been moreso paranoid than just observant. The post holds a few questions, but they read like thoughts. Were this not a tournament, I’d probably chalk it up to poetic license, but I need to be a bit stricter than normal and thus the deduction.
Technique 8/10
Nothing over flashy here, but you still managed to throw in a few semicolons and pregnant pauses to up the technique level. You weren’t overbearing with your use of the humorous little insult-jab nicknames, and so I rewarded you for that. The foreshadowing bit with Shigure was nice, though it could have used just a tiny hint at the fate awaiting Storm and Rayse once they finally met him. Thus the 8 instead of a 9. Good job overall though.
Wildcard 10/10
Total 80/100
Shinsou Vaan Osiris
Plot 20/30
Story 7/10
Shin’s story extends to a past which you brought more to the forefront in this thread. My only real problem with the story, and it was the same for Storm and Rayse, is the abruptness of the conclusion. There was this hint at something brewing between Cavum Ira and Elite Optic, but it wasn’t fleshed out enough to feel concluded. This was a cliffhanger on both parts, and neither made the story feel truly complete.
Setting 7/10
This story took place in an alleyway, but it could have taken place - for the most part - in just about any alleyway in any city in any province of Althanas. It didn’t hold that moment where things really felt vibrant with the setting, and that was true for most every writer in thread. What hurt you more than anything was moments to utilize your messenger. What happened to him?
Pacing 6/10
I liked what you did with Shin and introducing the Cavum Ira, however, I didn’t like how you did it. Shin’s death didn’t feel abrupt, but there wasn’t enough of a lull to let it sink in either. For such a monumental scene, it read far too flat for my liking, and I chalk it up to mostly pacing. It wasn’t timed well, just as the story hit its stride, it was thrown against this brick wall and were it not for the other writers I’m not sure it would’ve recovered.
Character 21/30
Communication 7/10
You have a knack for dialogue. It flows well, reads comfortably, and moves at a pace which doesn’t feel like it drags. It also all makes sense with the character, with the minor exception of Cavum Ira, who I believe you’re still getting a feel for. More time with this form/psyche would give you a greater hold of the character, and thus in how to write him/it better.
Action 7/10
The same comments hold true from above. Nothing felt out of place for Shin as a character, but it did for Cavum Ira.
Persona 7/10
I feel like I should score Cavum Ira and Shinsou separately, even though you wrote both. The quality with Shin is very good, but as a reader the shift to Cavum Ira, both in the physical sense and the writing sense, just didn’t sit all that well. I’d chalk it up to lack of experience with the character/form, but it is definitely jarring and noticable.
Prose 24/30
Mechanics 8/10
No real major mechanical flaws, but again I’m judging on the highly strict level. Only a couple of noticeable moments, and so the deductions.
Clarity 8/10
The shift from Shinsou to Cavum Ira leaves the reader a bit confused as to what is transpiring, but outside of those moments, the reader never finds themselves at a loss for what is happening or why (or how). Again, the bold strategy to utilize Cavum Ira hurt you here instead of help you.
Technique 8/10
Much like my notes to Rayse and Storm, you also did well to not overuse literary techniques, and to keep them within the flow of the thread. Kudos.
Wildcard 10/10
Total 75/100
Elite Optic
Plot 22/30
Story 7/10
See comments to everyone else. Same exact thing for you.
Setting 7/10
Much like I noted with Shin, this thread, especially your posts and his, could’ve happened just about in alleyway, in any city, in any province of Althanas. It was a tapestry in front of which the characters performed, but the interactions never really felt vibrant enough to bring that tapestry to life.
Pacing 8/10
You kept the pace moving, and nothing as a reader felt too fast or too slow. You deftly flowed from one part to the next without any noticeable lag, or at least none that jarred me as a reader. Good job.
Character 21/30
Communication 7/10
You do well with most of Elite’s dialogue, but at times it reads a bit dry. The bits between Sorian and Elite always work well, but I wanted just a tinge more of the exuberation from Elite at his flaming limbs and weapon.
Action 7/10
Pretty much the same as Communication for you. Nothing truly out of place in this one, or out of character, but that little bit more would’ve done wonders for you.
Persona 7/10
The differences between Sorian, who has this bit of a past that you alluded to, and Elite Optic, who although he has this chasm of a past yet never feels connected with, were well played. My only real point of contention again comes from the same bit where I wanted more from the reaction to the flames, maybe even something when Rayse used it the second time. Instead, Elite just kind of stood that.
Prose 21/30
Mechanics 6/10
Your major deductions were for awkward tense changes and misuse of words. While I won’t list out all of them here, if you want a breakdown specifically, PM me and I’ll be happy to provide it.
Clarity 8/10
Honestly, your clarity in this thread was spot on. As a reader, I never found myself wondering what happened or why, and I chalk that up to your growing familiarity with Elite as a character and as a battle-hardened veteran.
Technique 7/10
As I noted with Mechanics, there were a few awkward tense changes, and those hurt you here mostly because they hindered techniques. You still managed to throw out a nice use of a pregnant pause or two, and nothing you did was overbearing on the flow of the thread.
Wildcard 10/10
Total 74/100
Winners are Unreasonable Gentlemen!
I will calculate rewards tomorrow. My apologies for the delay on those!
EDIT: Rewards as follows
Storm Veritas receives 4225 EXP and 125 GP
Rayse Valentino receives 4225 EXP and 120 GP
Shinsou Van Osiris receives 1000 EXP and 125 GP
Elite Optic receives 1000 EXP and 100 GP
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