Team Name: The Philosophy Club
Team Members: Ya Zhen and Maus
Links to Team Members:
Ya Zhen: http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17888
Maus: http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17772
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Team Name: The Philosophy Club
Team Members: Ya Zhen and Maus
Links to Team Members:
Ya Zhen: http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17888
Maus: http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17772
Ya Zhen was crouched down staring into the pleaing eyes of a youngling boy. Earlier he had slaughtered his parents, along with the entirety of his village, on a whim. He did not at first know the boy was watching from the closed doors of a closet, but the fact made the day all the sweeter. The child burst out of the closet, nearly catching Ya Zhen by surprise. Then he ran out of the tent to find a more gruesome sight; Bodies everywhere. Blood was splattered on the sides of all of the assorted cabins, tents, and huts. A few bodies were impaled on wooden stakes but the most gruesome feat by far was the large pile of bodies in the center of camp. The whole scene looked rather like the end of an 80's slasher flick. The boy would run one way, to find a horror, then run the other way only to find an even worse one.
Ya Zhen stared into the eyes of someone with true terror, the terror of death. He felt revitalized, renewed by the childs despair. He leaned down closer to the childs face and he spoke with his silver tongue, "Hush now child, worry not. Your life may not be forfeit, at least not yet." He stood up at that point turning the other way. The child quickly bolted the other way. When 20 feet he had gone, Ya Zhen quickly did a 180 and shot out of the palm of his outstretched hand a small bolt of dark energy. The bolt was particularly fast, taking its target with ease.Upon impact the child made a wild cry of despair before falling over and dying. It left only a slight mark on his back, but otherwise did little other physical damage. His soul however, fragile and weak from both age and lack of training was utterly destroyed.
It was then with his blood lust temporarily sated he made his way back to the center of the village. He looked at the large pile of bodies and decided they would make excellent padding. Ya Zhen spread the pile thinner so that it was about 3 feet tall all the way around it. He stuck his sheathe and blade in the ground next to him laying on the bodies and staring into the endless abyss that was the night sky.
Maus, upon seeing a village, finally, across the vast wastes of yet another mostly unindustrialized world, was jubilant, if it was all only to, and within himself. It seemed everywhere he went here, there was either no humans ever or their long abandoned remnants; in those areas that there were the remnants of people, there were, of course, all the signs that they'd moved on because they'd worn the area out. These often consisted of strange mixtures of flora in segments that had once been carefully tied and managed fields, of crop animals and weeds, tangled hopelessly together. Homes, left to the elements, obviously by proof of eye once shingled, and reshingled, and patched, as needed, by their occupants, as time went on and Earth continued to circle the Sun, while spinning, presenting the illusion for the untrained eye that it went the other way around.
Occasionally, he came upon an inhabited place, though; not some quaint and unintentional natural reserve or some ghost of what had once been someone's abode, but a proper town, with proper people. This was the exception to the rule. And as he drew closer to the village that had caught his eye from his higher elevation on approach, he noted that he'd come upon an even more remote exception to human reality. Small human shapes, like errors on a parchment, looked to be as though laying on the ground, surrounded by red, and unmoving. As he drew closer, he could see that the illusions of distance had not confused his eyes, and that there were indeed several, if not a great many people, lying on unpaved, but merely heavily tread ground, in pools of their blood that the compost rich soil seemed to be slurping up thirstily.
He made a little whistling sound to himself, but did not rush to help people he couldn't hope to do much for. He lacked the machine's he'd been told of by the Patron had tried to share the reality of with him, nanites, tiny machines the size of germs, that with the right cunning of manufacture and instruction could do almost anything, but which only came and thrived with some unimaginable circumstance called a 'Singularity', but not of the sort that had been used to bring him here. This information did him little better now then it did him then, but then again, the false-Prior had his way of passing along all sorts of information that fell along those similar lines of usefulness.
He didn't head back along the path winding down towards the village, either. Instead, he became more watchful, being almost certain that since there seemed to be no movement in the village that whatever had happened seemed most likely to be over. In fact, what with women, as he continued to approach and could see more, dead, as well as the men, and in equal amounts, that meant that whatever had happened, this was an ill planned annihilation, rather then a proper act of terror, which meant that no one would be returning to finish anything. What really struck him as unusual, however, was in that looking at the houses there was no obvious sign of the looting of belongings. What was the point of killing anyone if not to rob them?
In fact, what was the point of killing anyone if you intended to maintain a sustained income by way of robbery? Object lessons, of course, would be religious faiths, autocratic societies, and other variations between slavery and confidence games.
He stopped before a man dressed in robes of a cloth and condition that suggested he was one of the wealthier members of the village, positioned precariously between two women that were young, and dressed quite gaudily in their own right. His mistresses? A likelihood. He'd failed to unsheath an ornate black dagger trimmed in gold designs before being cut down, shaped like a crucifix by design, not unlike his, but unlike his of a heavier variety, more a short-sword then a dagger, and complete with a comparatively heavy pommel.
It looked valuable. So he took it, inserting the blade full back into its sheath and pulling the sheath free from the man's built, which coincidentally had not dipped itself in the man's spreading blood, inserting it into the belt of his own red, hooded-robes. The man's obvious purse of gold he left him, however. It was looking like these people would need quite a bit of currency to see themselves along to paradise, as went a number of the superstitions. Careful to not make himself overtly visible, he kept his senses about himself, as something felt out of place, aside from the obvious oddity of massacred township about him. He made certain not to presume just one path amongst the many huts and houses, but rather to vary his direction through the place, so as not to be caught unawares and foolishly by any returning skirmishes. This was more so a play towards probability then certainty, however, and Maus soon found his path cut off by a survivor, fleeing. His instincts moving him to stop, he stopped, and this proved to be a wise decision, as some sort of event-horizon looking conceptual mass burst from the house like a tongue of lightning, striking him motionless instantly while leaving little more then a slight burn of a wound visibly, before the waveform dissipated into countless motes like crystal smoke, floating away into nothingness.
Idiot. Way to run in a straight line...
Did he mutter that? He thought he might have. More importantly, did whatever just blasted the runt hear him?
Better not to find out.
Maus could handle himself under most circumstances, but his survival, more then anything else, depended on him knowing when not to overstay his luck. Silently, Maus, took this opportunity to go another way. There were a lot of people dead. So what? Countless people died daily from more minor of things then the ruthless attentions of other human beings. What had happened here was extremely unlikely in the grand scheme of things, and he had no intention of allowing such a rarity happen to him.
He didn't run. No point in running. He didn't creep. No point in creeping. He just walked, and a life of scrounging and stealing on crowded streets had taught him everything he needed to know to disappear into a landscape silent and unnoticed.
Ya Zhen opened his crimson eyes. He had heard something, he was sure of it. He began to rise from his bed of corpses, dusting himself off to insure that something in the rotting pile didnt come up with him. He stretched his arms out infront of him as a cat might. He wondered, How could I have forgotten one? The child couldn't be alive could it? He grabbed for his katana placing it again around his waist. Silently and carefully, with the skill of someone who had frequently sneaked up on the cannon fodder of these villages, he stepped. Along the way he diverted his attention to the many mutilated bodies strung all over the village. He couldnt help but feel a little pride in his work. He would look forward to reading about "The village massacre." Made him all warm inside just thinking about it... He shifted his mind back to the task at hand. Was it really a task he thought. I mean it's not like anyone here could do anything to me. He rose from his slightly crouched stance simply walking to whatever had spoken up earlier.
He had arrived at the boy's body turning it over to make sure it he was finished. The boy was indeed dead. His mere presence on the ground confirmed Ya Zhen's suspicions. Someone had escaped his massacre. It wasnt so much that he cared that one person had escaped. More over, the bounty hunters, vigilantes, and lynch mobs that would follow him until he killed every person who even remembered the village in question. Again he didnt mind any of that, a little structure with your murder never hurts. But it may turn into a pain having to deal with the countless people's relatives or other wise loved ones of whom he had killed or would kill.
He started to laugh. It was no pleasant sound, no like the worlds largest nails on the worlds largest chalkboard. It began to rise up turning into a cacophanic orchestra of laughter. When he stopped he leaned down and picked up the boy's body. He trudged towards the huge pile of bodies again. He threw the child's on the pile as well. He stood Next to the pile and began to chant, rythmically, ancient words. As he continued saying them his mind went to a different place, a place of chaos and hunger and destruction. He forgot everything he was in astral form, especially in the world of chaos. When he returned to the mortal form with all of his thoughts and knowledge restored about 10 minutes had passed. All around the bodies runic glyphs glowed. Four spots in particular all on polar opposite ends glowed the brightest. They became almost blindingly so until finally 4 of the most grotesque and horrid things concieved materialized. On the very base level they looked like dogs. They looked as if they had been skinned but still lived. Each was wearing what looked like a very iron maiden esqu suit. Covering most of the skinned flesh were metal spikes either pointed in or out. Their teeth were far sharper and rather shark-like and covered in iron. Their claws were extended and coated in iron as well. One of the more shocking features was their eyes and ears, or lack there of. One of their other shocking features was that they were all the size of a lion. They immediately upon being summoned set upon the pile of bodies. Ya Zhen watched with fascination as they were all quickly devoured leaving only a few bones, that the things were fighting over. He spoke to them "I have summoned thee and granted you a sacrifice of flesh. Obey me now as per the compact. Kill everything within 3 miles of here." They did not hear his speech, but being the summoner he had attained a slight link with them, enough to understand rudimentary commands at least. They each went different directions on their genicidal mission. He made a fire and sat by it awaiting the howl of the hell hounds.
Maus wasn't a coward, but he also wasn't one to stick around in one place needlessly when there was neither utility or expediency at stake in doing so. He'd just seen an idiot kid that couldn't bob and weave get mowed down by some sort of magical force that had likely been at least partially responsible for the deaths in the village. Why was he going to make his vastly more intelligent and handsome self the next most likely target? So, like any good agent and ex-thief, he took his person and possessions, and the loot he'd accumulated, and set back on his way out the other way of the village, following the road. That was usually the fastest way between two points, after all, and he was more likely to find himself in the safety of other people that way, as well. More likely along the road then any other place, of course, but from what he'd seen of this world so far, he had no particular hope of seeing other living humans anywhere along these roads for a while.
It didn't take him long before he came before something of a waypoint, to the North. Judging by the path here (not a proper road again, mind you) being wider and more worn then the one he'd come in on, and more so then any of the paths around it going in another direction, he assumed that this must be leading to where he wanted to be heading. He noted a number of bodies, 1, 2...ten of them, all piled at this location, and nodded, smiling grimly. Further evidence that he was correct. Many of them were armed. One of them appeared to be a shaman. From what he could tell, however, none of them had anything on their person that appeared to be of any value. He assumed this of the Shaman looking person right away, seeing as he had run rather then try to stay and fight. Seemed he was most likely a fraud then the real deal.
Maus set off down this path, which seemed to follow the way of a narrow valley, though with traverse-able bits and pieces as he continued along it, and all variety of trees and paths fitting of animals, though from what he'd seen on the elevated southern approach to the last village and the landscape before the road, he imagined it most definitely wasn't as easy going getting off the beaten path from the village as it was scurrying up there from here. Why consider this? There was no reason to suggest that a magic user hunting down children in a slaughtered village would be the sole member of that stomping party. In fact, this road, while perhaps leading to more people, was also a fine choice for an ambush area, if you in fact knew the area.
He stopped, and thought about it for a second. If the walls of the 'valley', if you dared call it such, provided such a choice area for ambushing, what was he doing down here?
He stopped, at another of the paths only really acceptable for something the size of a wolf trying to escape from a bad situation. He was still carrying the parcel with the Patron's packages in it, but it wasn't as heavy a load as it looked. And he'd traversed tougher rock faces and artificial walls and traps in his day; this was child's play.
He tried it once, missed. Almost broke his neck on the way back down, actually. He would have, if he wasn't at least something of an acrobat. Instead, he made sure to land properly, so as not to break anything, and quickly jumped to his face, brushing himself off. Some pebbles had come loose up there. He'd encountered a startlingly smooth shape in the rocks up there. He'd have to bound from the sides. He tried it again, and this time he pulled it off, but only on account of some skill in...well, paying attention, had he avoided crashing a large boulder off of other boulders, and possibly going careening off the edge only to be followed by one of them. Both hands, by fingertips gently spread across the rock. He exhaled. That could have been dangerous for him. He slinked away from the formation, which turned out to be made of three such boulders, roughly of the same heavy and huge size, easy to roll by shape, porbably some rudimentary and long forgotten snare or something. He stared at it for a moment. Then came a disgusting echo of noise like a pack of predators chomping on flesh, followed by something of a howl from back by the village. He could not recall the specifics, but he did remember an account of certain breeds of magic users summoning creatures to do their bidding, understandably things that were much uglier and more horrible then they were; dragons, skeletons, zombies, golems, hounds...
"Much more dangerous for someone else...", he muttered.
Someone less gentle, less careful. If there were hounds following the scent of the trail of something that had fled or left in another state of mind, they would follow it. Which meant that they would follow his trail, and most likely he would have to do something about it.
Better to modify this trap in the name of expedience.
He had plenty of time. Like he'd wished he'd said to the kid. Bob and weave. Zig-zag. Like he'd done getting out of the village. Like any decent animal, and better, a human, he never took a direct path, but tried to throw would be pursuers off of his path. All the better to befuddle them. So, taking a minute to move the rocks, he adjusted their now precarious position to allow that if something else tried to get up where he had, they would fall, and the rocks would follow after them. Taking a triangle scheme from billiards, however, he hoped for a little bit of spread. A rudimentary trap, sure, modified in just as simple a fashion. The thing was, simple worked. The more complicated you made something, the less likely it was to work.
He continued on his way. The thief in him kind of regretted not staying to take a few more things. He could have probably gotten a few more things of worth if he'd checked out a few homes, or a few purses. They were all dead. It's not like anyone but some crazy summoner-wizard would mind. And evidently, that guy was just there to kill people.
He fought down the urge to whistle a melody, little-red-riding-hood a boy in the midst of the descending night.
Off in the distance a loud howl of pain called out into the night. Across the plains 3 other beasts bayed in response They all immediatly turned towards the noise and began to converge on their fallen comrade. The immediate order of genicide for the specified area was temporarily forgotten. The beast in question was sprawled out on the ground with a large rock covering its lower body. It was clawing the ground madly trying to escape its dire situation, but to no avail. And yet it continued, clawing and scraping as well as continuing its incessant howling.
The noise did not fall on deaf ears in the dead village. Ya Zhen heard them inside the cabin he had rested in. His curiosity was piqued by the beasts call. It was obviously in some sort of pain. He wondered what could have done that. What could have caused such feral things to cry as such. Certainly no villager from a simple place like this could have. And their is no major town or city in the specified area I ordained the beasts to kill in.... Then it came to him. The escape-ee was not an escape-ee. It was a visitor. Some curious traveler, or daring adventurer happening onto a gruesome scene of death and slaughter. "This will not do at all...This wanderer could cause far more damage than some histerical yokel." So it was on that note that Ya Zhen gathered his belongings and made with haste towards the demon's cry.
Elsewhere with far greater haste had come the 3 remaining beasts. They surrounded the fallen 4th of them. For a time they were as still as statues, as if mourning it. The trapped one on the other hand in its knowledge of what was to come now bayed and clawed even more furiously at the ground. When it finally accepted its fate it layed its head on the ground with a visible since of clarity, as much as such things could produce said look. Then the beasts were upon him biting and tearing at his flesh, chewing through the grotesque armor it wore, until none was left save that which was unreachable by the boulder.
The beasts returned to their task at hand; killing everything they sensed. The closest thing was higher up on the rock formation, however their brother had no doubt run into some trouble in that respect. They worked together; One would stay at the base waiting for the prey to double back, the next would carefully climb trying to avoid the obvious pathways, and the last would attempt to discern all possible exits of the path the living thing tread.
There were a few sounds that were universal among beasts of the same variety as canines and hounds. When they sought out others of their kind, they howled, echoing their voices through the air in a shrill and consistent siren, summoning allies and terrifying enemies, or at the very least annoying them. The other sound was a clip louder, but nowhere near so consistent. When struck, a hound first yelped. It might snarl a bit during and after its yelp, but no matter how tough the wolf descendant was, no matter how stoic or composed, a dog would let out a cry of pain if you injured it. Maus blinked when he heard the characteristic sound, then, knowing it well enough, and smiled a little bit. From how far that he'd come since the hounds had circled the village looking for anything living, it seemed at least one of the pack of at least three he'd heard yowling with an unnatural fury had fallen victim to the preexisting trap he'd almost fallen for, and made certain the next person or thing to find it would fall victim to. And it did. Only one though. And from the sound of distant howls and barks drawing in closer from the distance of what must have been the village itself, he imagined its pack-mates were coming to investigate the injured noises. He'd drawn close to three miles from the site of the village by this time, but in a time and place devoid of loud and clunky mechanical contrivances, noise traveled far, and even an ear near death could have made out such an unmistakable sound, apart from the now silent chirping of the night.
He smirked, as his ears reported from the echoes of the now twisting valley that the rest of the pack had congregated around the injured one. He didn't stop. Better to keep moving. It didn't affect his thinking; it certainly didn't take from it. In the words of Nietzsche, 'I do my best thinking when walking...'. And though he was maintaining a pace that would have been quite brisk for a casual traveler, his endurance and stride tempered by a treasure-trove's experience in getting away from trouble quickly while not appearing to be under particular pressure, and not exerting any more effort then was absolutely necessary to fulfill the task at hand. For a moment, the howling behind him stopped, and he heard nothing shifting, nothing moving, except for the crawling of worms and leaping of crickets. Then, with a noise similar to the sound of before, but more brief, came the ripping and tearing, from the area where he'd left the trap for the now deceased vanguard hound to find. He quickened his pace, just a little. He wanted to find a change in scenery from this high and low road before he had something like that upon him. Something of a joining. Uneven ground he could take advantage of.
He'd know it when he saw it. He always did. And he did find something, as the barely discernible sound of plodding hounds paw's drew closer, one or more of the beasts following him making it up to his level of ground, one way or another. It was huge and heavy, for a hound. He could tell, from the subtle vibrations he was getting from the rocky surface of the incline he was escaping upon.
That soon came to an end, a white stone bridge straddling a minor river, across which a small boundary of rocks of equal height to his own gave way to a forest. The bridge was ornate and ancient, obviously a work of an entire other people from the unfortunate village he'd wandered across in search of the spot where he might find the Patron's business with this 'tournament'. Something about the easiest of several ways of obtaining 'an object of sufficient density to create a traverse-able singularity'. Whatever that meant, Maus had a few ideas, but as far as he knew, even for his being here, the Patron must already have on of those.
The motives of his master were of tertiary concern, at the moment, however. He had a choice to make. He could risk breaking his neck crossing an obstacle of boulders space like far-gapped stepping-stones between himself and the bridge, and at such a height where he could probably get to the turret to his right, and climb on the stone ramparts of the ancient thing, once again putting himself out of range of the hounds, at least for a moment, minimizing the time he'd have to slow down to lose his followers.
Ironically, in the time that he was considering this, the hound that was following him on the rocks managed to find it in itself to close the gap with him considerably, slowing not far behind him with a snarl. He gave it a sidelong glance. It was an ugly thing, reminding him of a hell-hound he'd once been witness and intended-victim to when caught stealing-back from a Darkfriend, in the ruins of Vorn, beneath the homestead of Yarese, above the million-year-old, tombs of a forgotten race of monstrous hominids that worshipped unspeakable, amorphous things from regions of space and time that the human mind simply cannot contemplate.
He took that moment of mutual contemplation of the mysteries of predator and prey, and the equal dangers of being either, to slowly draw his new weapon, and speak. Not that the thing could understand what he was saying, except perhaps the strikingly polite iteration of sarcasm, by way of a mutually derisive bit of irony.
"So it looks like you made my decision for me. Now I've got a decision for you."
And with that, he spun, sword tip serving as a useful counterweight to his momentum, and pushed off from the rock face, landing flawlessly on the nearest of the rocks that would serve as his stepping stones and battleground. As he predicted, the ghoulish thing was immediately after him. He felt teeth narrowly miss him, missing him, only because he pushed off from the rock to another next to it, next to him, in relation to his path to the bridge, in the process moving that rock in a roll, forcing the beast to adjust from him, its target, to either jump down from the rock, or move to another. Remaining where it was was out of the question. It was just too damn heavy, and the rock was moving, and though it was just a little bit, the quadruped just had too many points of balance to distribute flatly on such a surface, and the surface and movement of the rock didn't allow him to immediately follow Chell.
Maus was still smirking, swinging his sword in an arc to aid him in spinning, as he came to a stop on a more sturdy rock face. He could feel it crumble a little where it had come accustomed to being permanently in contact with the earth. It didn't move, though. As he'd been looking down at this oddly pentagonal arrangement, he'd been thinking it seemed to he one of the sturdier boulders.
His eyes and ears open, Maus waited for the next motion in this series of moves. He chose this optional battlefield purposefully, and judging from the trouble the one hound was having, it seemed he'd made a good choice in doing so.
"Come on", he said, so polite as to be insulting, as with the last statement. "What's the trouble?"
He recalled that he still had his steel dagger, too. If he needed it.
By will alone I set my mind in motion.
Greetings fellow rpers. I was your judge for this trial, and I'd like to say I rather enjoyed it. I feel both of you can improve, but your styles compliment eachother. You shouldn't do too bad. After the judgement I posted my notes on each of your posts. The sections I thought should be changed are in [brackets] with the changes, and most of them were small errors, or problems with clarity. I am available to discuss any part of my judgement, just slide me a pm.
Here are your scores and comments, gentlemen.
Story: 2.75
Ya Zhen (2) : The entire reason for your character's presence in the village was never explained, and neither was the reason why your character knew that 'ancient tongue,' or anything more about how the summon was completed other than the outward effects. The village itself was never described except for the fact that it was there. The same can be said about your descriptions of the hunt. The hounds you described, but I read nothing about the appearance of your character, other than his katana, or the boy for that matter.
Mabus (3.5) : Your character's reasons for being in that particular village were clear, and well explained, and your descriptions of the setting and people, dead or not, added a deal of realism and believability to the thread. I enjoyed the parts about your 'Patron,' and things relating to what I assume was the world you came from. There were some issues with your writing, which I'll touch on in the style section, that considerably slowed the pacing of your posts, but almost everything you added helped immerse me in the thread.
Character: 2.75
Ya Zhen (2.25) : Your character is relatively unique, and an uncaring badass. The summoning of the hounds was well done, and I especially liked that their 'feast' was part of a contract. Unfortunately, I know next to nothing about your character. You never referenced any past experiences except to explain his abilities, and even then sparingly. The inner and outer dialogue was nice, but didn't convey much outside of his uncaring attitude. Feel free to include flashbacks and other literary devices to try and get the reader into your character's head.
Mabus (3.25) : I enjoy reading about Maus, and his personality comes through clearly in the writing. Your use of prose to explain his thinking allowed me to get into his head, and he maintains all the realistic reactions of a normal person in his situation. His ingenuity shows in how he deals with the hounds, though it was a little difficult to picture in the last post. His internal and external dialogue display his wit, as well, and add a bit of humor to your posts.
Writing Style: 2.75
Ya Zhen (1.75): The biggest problem I noticed was comma misplacement. Your sentences are generally short, and to the point, which compliments the style of your partner. You tend to refer to your character by name almost every time, and while this helps ensure the reader knows who you're talking about. I cannot stress enough how you need to develop your descriptions, especially of the setting and your character. People need to know why he does what he does, and sometimes even how he learned to do it. I've included a list of errors, some of them just confusing sentence structure, at the bottom of the judgement.
Mabus (3.75): It felt like you were overcompensating for your partner in your first post, but you seemed to ease into your usual style in subsequent posts. You write significantly thicker than Ya Zhen, but you seem to have made it work for you, for the most part. The worst 'errors' I found were sentences in which you seem to have gone off on a seemingly unrelated tangent. These made it very difficult to decipher the meaning of the sentence. I would recommend trying to average shorter sentences, and breaking up some of the bigger ones for easier reading. I have also included a list of errors I found in your posts at the bottom of this judgement.
Total: 8.25
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Originally Posted by Ya Zhen, Post One
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Originally Posted by Mabus, Post One
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Originally Posted by Ya Zhen, Post Two
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Originally Posted by Mabus, Post Two
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Originally Posted by Ya Zhen, Post Three
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Originally Posted by Mabus, Post Three
Some astute observations, and dually noted, though I will say I ignore many rules of grammar to set my own pace for the reader, by strategic use of alliteration. I think you noted this.
All else I have to say in protest is (cue Bones) 'Dammit, Jim, I'm a writer, not an editor!'
xD
Heh, yes, I believe you have good control of your style. Those pesky rules of grammar can only become your strength once you get them down. It's refreshing to see such thick prose in an age of dime fantasy novels.
One more thing I just noticed, you use 'seem' a fair bit. I believe it gives more weight to your writing if you use stronger verbs, like the path cut down the valley, rather than seemed to cut. Almost a form of personification.
I look forward to reading your future threads here on althanas, tournament-related or not, and seeing how you continue to develop your writing style. I hope you take my suggestions about grammar into account. I'd hate to see you disqualified before you meet a team that will challenge you to write at your best.
Also, are you a fan of the Wheel of Time series, by any chance? I saw a mention of a 'Darkfriend' and couldn't help but think of that.
Actually, this was the character I created to invade a Wheel of Time RP, because I couldn't find a Sword of Truth RP to invade instead. They're kind of similar...I mean, Terry Goodkind did pretty much plagiarize the premise of 'Eye of the World' for 'Wizard's First Rule' and most of 'Stone of Tears'...right? Terry Goodkind is one of those people that, if I ever saw him RPing, I would feel duty bound to kill his characters, if just to be spiteful...
The RP has actually turned out to be decent, though, and Maus has become something of a new pet character for me. It'll be interesting to flesh him out as a combatant here, and see if any of my opponents manages to put him in a situation which will force me to reveal his secret, which has popped itself into my brain in the past few days, before culminating as a proper idea.
No, it's not a special power, although I imagine it may leave a certain sort of character momentarily surprised, and possibly shocked.
And thanks for the pointer on 'seems'. Seems I have another word that has inserted itself one too many times into my subconscious. Must purge my brain. Will purge my brain. Last time, it was 'gunmetal', in reference to the texture.
Well, anyways, thanks for judging, and I expect we'll meet again through the course of the tournament.