AC: Round 2 - Group 3

This thread is reserved for members of Group 3. The thread will open at noon on September 7th (Pacific time) and will be closed after two weeks.

Good Luck!

Group 3
Taste of Treason
Tourneymant

The dream seemed so real, one moment she was surrounded by lush greenery and the now-familiar scent of blossoming roses and the next there was nothing once more. The young girl could feel the heat of the sun warming her skin through her shirt and knew that morning had come and gone. It was a strange dream, filled with giants and men with magic swords and elves who could easily decipher challenges that would have stopped Cel in her tracks. There had been a strange man with a monocle and, as she opened her eyes the teen’s reality hit her once more, it was the Adventurers crown-and she was far from dreaming. The cloudless blue sky above her seemed to mock her childish fantasy as though screaming down at her that she did not deserve her place in this tournament, I know, I know. the thought filled her mind.

Cellar Door had survived the first round of the mysterious tournament through no skill of her own. Most of the time in the maze she had spent as a sniveling coward begging for the others to save her and it had been made clear that subsequent rounds would have different teams. She could not count on the generosity of strangers for a second time; luck could only carry someone so far in life. The girl forced herself to a sitting position, feeling the standard aches and pains that accompanied a nights rest on hard ground and wishing for the labyrinth that she had thought would be her tomb; at least the maze had been made of plush grass. She jostled her top half feeling her shoulder pop and rolled her head to work out the soreness of her neck. The sounds of voices reached her ears and Cel assumed that was her clue to figure out just what the master of the tournament had in store for her today. She pulled herself to standing and finally took in what was around her, only to wish she had never looked.

Tents were set up throughout the dusty field, tattered clothing hanging from the tops and makeshift fires slowly dying now that their heat was no longer needed. Children played near the camps, mothers occasionally yelling for them to mind the coals lest they fall. What haunted her most though, were the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, the lack of laughter from the kids. Even in the home where Cel grew up the children laughed, even with no parents and too little food they found a way to find joy. There was no joy in this place. The girl looked closer, beginning to walk in the direction of the nearest set of tents, and another realization hit her. There were no men-she looked again, women, children, not a single adult man in sight. The girl pulled her shoulder satchel closer to herself and approached a small girl, who looked about nine digging into the dusty ground. The child’s hair was matted with sweat, and her stench was nearly unbearable. Her tiny features were what could have been considered pretty had then not been covered in dirt and red from sun exposure. The gray shirt she wore was hanging on by threads, with holes along the sides where the seams had come loose. Her pants had been cut off several times and barely reached her mid-thigh.

Cel sat down next to the child and reached into her bag, withdrawing a small canteen of water and some dried meat. The girl looked at her greedily, as though struggling with some past sense of pride her parents had instilled in her and yet fighting her primitive urge to beg for sustenance. Cel handed her first the water, watching as she gulped several times, allowing some small droplets to dribble down her face where they mixed with grime from her chin and fell to further stain her clothing.

“Slow down there, you’ll make yourself sick.”

The young girl pulled the canteen from her lips with a look of fear in her eyes. Cel smiled sweetly, doing her best to reassure the child. “Do not worry dear, it is yours now, I just want you to take it slow.”

The child held the canteen tightly but allowed the rest of her small frame to relax, even giving a soft smile in return. The teen handed her the dried meat and watched as the girl took tiny bites, as though she hoped to make it last. “So, what is this place?” Cel did her best to sound unaffected by the horrors around her.

The girl chewed quietly for a moment before answering, bits of meat still dotting her mouth as she spoke, “This is camp.”

The girl seemed to think this was answer enough, bringing her meal to her lips once more and simultaneously taking several more gulps of water. They sat in silence for a long moment before an older woman approached, holding a stack of dingy linens and her aging face streaked with worry. “Bethanne, who are you talking to?”

The young girl stood, proudly brandishing her valuable items towards the elder woman. “Mama, look! She gave me things!”

The woman’s first move was to lower her daughters hands and whisper a warning about keeping these types of things to herself, and then in one swift movement her eyes turned to Cel. She looked up and down the teen’s body as though looking for danger before she allowed the tips of her lips to turn upwards, “Thank you for taking care of my little girl. I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do in return. We haven’t had a proper meal in weeks and I’m afraid we aren’t making much progress with our little garden.”

Cel turned her head as the woman pointed to a small clearing that appeared to have been recently planted. Every so often a browning leaf stood up from the ground, a hint of a promise already wilted. Bethanne flashed a devilish grin and then began to run back towards the camp, holding the canteen tightly to her side. Her mother sighed softly, “Thank you again, that girl is going to be the death of me. You never do go into these things thinking you will be doing it on your own. My name is Mary if you find something you need. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She tilted her head slightly as she took her leave, wiping her graying hands upon her dirty apron.

“Wait,” Cel called, “Perhaps there is something you can help me with after all.”

Mary turned, her face very much like her daughters if you could look passed the tired eyes and crows feet that proved she had once enjoyed her life. “I don’t have much to offer.”

“How about a story?”

Barnabas woke with a start as a child tripped and fell on him. "Ugh, watch where your going little one." The child seemed to have frozen. uh-oh, I did it again.

"Ghost!" the child ran away fearing what the "ghost" would do to him.

Great, already scaring children. Well best get out of here before the mother comes to investigate. Barnabas stood up and stretched then noticed a girl who was probably a foreigner to the area by the looks of her cloths. After all, they weren't ripped or tattered. Barnabas walked up behind her as the woman began her tale.

The trio and their unnoticed companion soon sat upon a tattered blanket beneath a graying sheep-skin tent. Cel listened intently as Mary spoke, desperate to learn how exactly these terrible conditions came to be.

The island was once a prosperous place, where neighbor help neighbor and no one went without. The small towns that marked the plains farmed and traded with each other and the children played in the streets without fear. Over time, whispers began to circulate, of a strange army on a path of destruction. Groups of voluteers set out, intent on protecting the people. When none returned there was a vote, all men over sixteen would report and together they would ensure this ended far away from their homes. For the first few months there were reports, casualties were mourned and life continued as normally as possible. When the weather changed the war did too. No more reports came, and come harvest season it was clear there would not be enough to make it through the winter. The woman gathered, some wanted to leave in search of safety, others refused to leave thier homes in hopes that one day their husbands would return. The vote did not pass and so the people waited.

"I was torn, of course I didn't want to give up on my David, but I had Bethanne to look after and there just wasn't enough food to go around." Mary chuckled sofly, "If only I'd know how much worse it could all get."

Soon the whispers of war were replaced with the souds of explosions and the night sky was turned gray by the smoke rising above villages in the horizon. It was enough to make a person question everything, and yet even in those dark moments, once again there were glimmers of hope. There was a place that many had heard of, with provisions in place for such a time. It was said that the kind family within had enough food to feed the entire island for a years time. To the residents it was little more than a pipe dream, and yet who would turn down a dream when your reality is simply waiting for death to find you?

"When we met again I pushed as hard as I could, begging people to think of the children." From listening to her speak Cel had no doubt her words had changed a few hearts.

"And do you think you were wrong?" The teens voice was little more than nothing, and to Mary it seemed as though her conscience was asking the same question it had for months now.

"I think when your options are the possibility of death or the certainty of it there really isn't a choice to be made."

The travel had been difficult and many were lost along the way, but the women and children persisted. When they finally decended upon the dusty castle lawn praises were sung to the Thaynes. They were not the first to arrive, but within hours they were a part of the group. Hundreds of tents were erected, and food was brought out from the family, and while life was far from good, it was once again livable.The people were happy, taking care of each other once again and truly believing that one day they would rebuild thier lives. Days went by, weeks, months and all was well, but as so many times before rumors began to swirl. There was discords, primarilly from the younger men, who had grown from boys too young for war. Why should the rations be evenly split? Why care for the elderly with food that could sustain the strong?

"I never once thought to ask for more. These people, these saints within the castles walls. Even a crumb from their table was more than they could ever owe us." Mary's words grew heavy as her eyes began to tear. "We were all in this together."

An uprising grew, and within weeks the young men had taken their pick of the women and entered the castle walls. Once they were inside the doors were never opened again. People tried to fight back, but the castle was strong, and once again the people all waited for death. Most didn't have long to wait, as the fever hit and the dead rose by the hour. The bodies were burned each evening, but it took months to get ahead of the virus and by then over half the original residents were dead. The winter came and the body count rose,. Those who were once starting to have families were once more torn from their loved ones by the cold embrace of death. Cel could feel a weight placed upon her heart with every tragedy that befell these people.

It was all she could take. She finally stood up, interrupting the older woman with the silent action. She bowed her head respectfully to her host, and turned around, opening the flap of the tent and walking outside. By this point, the sun was slowly creeping downwards over the horizon, giving it's final shimmering gifts to the people as it nestled snugly into the other side of the world. In the darkness that followed, she could make out the large skyline of the castle from Mary's story. It was a dilapidated little thing, moss starting to grow over the worn bricks. The torches that were lit around the walls illuminated the courtyard moreso than any light within the refugee village. She shifted her gaze around, until her eyes fell upon a stack of bodies, an occasional corpse or two being flung on top of the pile by one of the stronger remaining villagers. She watched in horror as a single torch was thrown into the pile with a blatant disregard for the sacred rituals of honoring the dead. The smell wasn't bad at first, not until the flames ate away at the tattered clothes of the rotting shells that were once people. Once the fire began to nip at the flesh and dance with the hairs of the deceased however, Cel had to cover her nose to try and ignore the smell. She looked towards the castle with a new resolve, walking towards the structure with an angered passion in her heart.

"You really should make a plan before running off to fight a castle," Barnabas said coming up behind Cel. She jumped and turned around looking for the man who had said that.

"Show yourself!"

"I would of I could but I can't. However, look for the blur and you will find me."

Cel squinted her eyes trying to see if she cold find him. Then she noticed that there was indeed a blurry spot not five feet away. "I have found the blur so tell me what to do from there."

"I am the blur. My people are nearly invisible from birth. Now back to the matter at hand. I presume you are my partner for the Adventure's Crown Tournament."

Cel nodded, "My name is Cel, and who are you?"

"I'm Barnabas, also known as the Tournament Specter, Haunted Tourney, or even the Cursed Object." He pulled out his Gilded Three Armed Candle Holder. "This is my item for this tourney." The candle holder was gold with a center holder and two side holders. In each holder was a white candle. "If ever you need to find me say, 'The candle holder lives.' Upon hearing that phrase, I will pull out my candle holder and light it, making it easy for you to find me."

Cel nodded, "I understand."

"Now, back to the matter at hand, do you have a plan to get into the castle?"

Cel wasn't quite sure that she had a grip on reality at the moment. Her partner was an invisible man and her goal was to fall a castle with nothing more than a small hunting knife. The Adventurer's Crown was shaping up to be quite the adventure after all. She closed her eyes, focusing on sounds only she could hear. "As a matter of face I've been working on it since halfway through Mary's story. I assume you heard it all."

Barnabas remained quite and for a moment the teen though the candle labre might be floating in mid-air and her mind truly was lost. When the holder dissapeared she took it as a sign that the stranger had indeed listened during her conversation. Cel wasn't one to let awkward silences fill the air and as such she continued talking. "I've just got to find the servants quarters."

The duo walked the castle walls, Cel humming quietly every now and then. She reached out her hand, allowing it to roam over the graying bricks that still held the warmth of the day even as the sun dipped low on the horizon, checking the ground for holes as she turned the corner to the back of the building.

A large wooden door stood halfway down the wall, its exterior etched with its history. Cel could imagine hundreds of servants during better years, creating a nick here and a scratch there as they entered and exited with baskets of produce or laundry to be hung. Many of the patients in the mental home dreampt of living in places such as this, and while it had always struck her as odd because she wanted nothing more than the lives they took for granted, the youth had absorbed any book given to her no matter what the subject. Castles had always been something of an infatuation.

"Hundreds of years ago they made these things out of wood. It was strong, held up to most assaults available at the time, and was relatively easy to work with. The only problem was it burned. Soon people grew wise, started making walls of stone. Not to be out done, the attackers progressed and soon the catapult and battering ram were invented. What do you do when people learn to break down your walls? You build them thicker and stronger. So here we are with thick stone walls and no army. We basically have two options; we can go up, though unless you have an invisible ladder that I don't know about, that could prove to be quite a challenge. Out second option is to go under, and lucky for us, my friends here..."

The girl paused for a moment, bringing her fingers to her mouth and pursing her lips. She let out a soft, melodic whistle, like that of a mother calling her children to dinner, and no sooner did she finish than a small creature burrow up from the ground. The brown fur of the animal, as well as its rotund shape and unique paws made it easy to identify as a common mole. Cel reached out her hand and gently rubbed behind the critter's ears. "Have done much of our work for us."

She kneeled to the ground, her fingers burying into the soft earth and digging by the handful. When she was satisfied with the size of the hole she had just created, she forced herself head first into the mole's tunnel. The cool earth seemed to close in around her and there was little room for anything more than crawling on her belly but she pushed herself forward. She could feel the solid stone of the castle wall brush against her back, and once most of her body had gotten through to the other side, she started digging upwards, towards the inside of the castle. Now all that stood between her and the first step towards victory were a few inches of dry rotted wood. She wiggled her hand into her pocket, withdrawing a simple steel hunting knife. Turning the weapon around so the handle face upwards, Cel began to chip away at the boards above. Dust and wood chips grazed her already dirty face, and she closed her eyes to protect them from the falling debris. Once enough of the wood had given way, she forced herself through, breaking several more of the planks as she emerged from her self-made tunnel. The girl was breathing heavy, exhausted from her efforts and covered head to toe with soft dirt, but she had done it. She made her way towards the door to let her transparent team mate in.

As soon as the door opened Barnabas snuck in and told her to hide. As soon as she was hidden, he shut the door quietly then ran up to the door in the center. He opened it up then went inside, making sure to slam it behind him. All the people inside the entrance jumped and turned towards the door not noticing him. As time past they all settled down and went about their normal business. Barnabas decided it would be a good idea to up the antics. He grabbed a lantern, lit it, then started to spin it. As it spun many looked his way and their faces paled. Everyone started running and tripping over each other yelling "Ghost!" Barnabas smiled, though no one could see it then cried out, "Help them. Help them." Everyone was still running, not wanting to get hurt by the 'Ghost.' He then chased after them waving the lantern and pulling out his candle holder. "Help them."

As he ran through the castle scaring the people inside, he noticed that there was no sign of Cel. She sure knows how to hide.
Suddenly he saw a man with exorcism equipment. Great not again. He ran as the man chased after him. then he thought of something. He put his candle holder back in his pocket then through the lamp away. Then he activated his invisibility causing the man to loose track of him he then hid and waited for the man to leave.

"Wait a minute!" Cel shouted towards her partner, her hand extended outward to try and stop his headstrong charge. Her plea came too late, however, and Barnabas had already made his way through the wooden door beyond. She could hear the screams of the people in the next room combined with the sounds of dinnerware dropping to the floor in a panic. She quickly squirmed back into her hole, doing her best to cover her already filthy body with even more soil to camoflouge herself.

"Not all of us are invisible, damnit..." she mumbled to herself, specks of dirt falling into her mouth as she spoke the words. She spat the filth back out, closing her eyes and hoping for the best results. After several long moments, the hysteria that Barnabas had started in the other room had dulled down. After she was certain that she heard no other souls in her own room, she stood back to her feet, her voice at the ready in case something else went wrong. She inched towards the hallway, eyes shifting back and forth. The halls were lined with various watercolor paintings of the family that had been so kind to Bethanne and Mary's village. They stared at the girl with their green eyes, the black air of each individual family member meticulously combed back to perfection.

Thesouless gaze of the pictures caused the girl to take a hard swallow, though there was still grit in her mouth. She gagged, and attempted to gulp once more, only to find herself choking on the dirt she had unintentionally consumed. When she regained her composure, she tried looking for Barnabas, for some sign that he was in the same hallway as she. As she approached a new door, her hand tenderly opening the redwood frame, she slowly peaked her head through. After all, she didn't wish to cause any more unecessary attention to herself. Barnabas had already done a pretty good job of that.

She ducked her head back into the hallway when her eyes caught a glimpse of a man. He had the same perfected black hair as the people in the portraits, though he seemed a little more out of place with the deck of cards he had in one hand, and the single white candle he held in the other. Judging from the smell, the girl quickly recognized the stench of an incense candle, her eyes growing wide with shock. Had this man killed her partner, and therefore left Cellar without any help in the castle? There was only one way to find out.

She pushed the door open further, a loud creaking sound emenating from the hallway and into what seemed to be a dining room. The dark haired man turned to her, his green eyes seemingly perfected in that soul stealing gaze from the room before. Cel took a deep breath and stepped forward, looking towards the man. He couldn't have been older than twenty, if that. His pale skin seemed to have an even whiter demeanor to it in the dim light of the dining room. She scratched the back of her head, dirt falling all over the floor below. "Uhhhh....hi?" Cel waved, allowing even more dust to fall from her body, "I would appreciate it if you didn't erase my friend from existence..."

She attempted a half-hearted smile, her throat still straining with the crud lodged within.

The man looked her over then growled, "If your a ghost then leave my home. I've had enough with unwelcome guests. First the teens revolt now a ghost haunts my halls. if you are neither then you are welcome. Else Leave and I will spare you."

Barnabas hearing the conversation peaked around the corner. "I'm no ghost. I just pretend to be to help clear out areas for my teammates. My name is Barnabas and we are here to help the people outside. You must be the man in that portrait on the back wall."

Ey, that I be. So you are looking to help the people outside these walls?"

"Yes."

"Well then, I think I can help"

-1 to Wildcard due to tournament posting rules.

Plot: (13)

Storytelling (5) – While Taste of Treason did everything she could to tell a story here, you Tounrymant did nothing to further it, nor did you do anything to help it. You simply dumped off a paragraph, adding little to virtually nothing to help out your teammate in this category, and the lack of substance you gave your posts hurt you both greatly. In the future, either PM to communicate, IM, flag them down in the chat room or whatever, but find a way to communicate so that you both write the story together, instead of resting on the laurels of one person to do it.

Setting (4) – Only treason put ANY effort into this category, and Tounry you should have learned to use more of your five senses by now. The need to rush out such small posts really hurts everywhere else in the rubric, and your inability to give me, the reader, any substance is what you should work on.

Pacing (4) – At times, very well done, at others, nothing. The feelings of rushing, then trying to slow it back down to tell the story made it a difficult proposition for a reader to digest. This is due to the post lengths of both of you. Treason, you had done around a page or so worth of writing in each post, and Tounry, you did like a paragraph, by definition. This led to the story jumping around ruining the scenes and the flow.

Character: (14)

Communication (4) – Very flat and forced at the best of times. This is mostly due to the lack of development the NPC’s you bring you into your stories have, as well as the understanding of the other person’s character. Not everyone talks in a choppy manner, and the easiest way to avoid this is to read a couple posts they wrote in another thread to understand how a character would act.

Action (5) – Treason had action. Tourny, you had none. This is a dead horse, but it should be clear by now that the lack of substance in a story is going to hurt you everywhere in these judgments. Please, please take this to heart and learn from this so you can grow as a writer. You need to give me something to eat if you plan to have me stay and read your work. If I don’t get hooked, I won’t stick around for long.

Persona (5) – I have no clue what, who, or why Barnabas does anything he does, or why he is the way he is. He truly is an invisible man, because I can’t even read him. You need to flesh out emotions, what they feel, why they feel it, how the environment and the story impacts them. Look at some Judge’s Choice to help you get an idea. Treason you had some good character in this, but the helpless, not so helpless, but still helpless teen angle is approaching the line. She is a new character, and it seems you’re starting to hit your stride with her which means next time I look forward to some real growth. But for now, job well done.

Prose: (16)

Mechanics (6) – A few errors in your posts can really hurt the clarity of a story overall, but thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Still, several misspellings and missed punctuation/capitalization was had sprinkled throughout the thread. The same advice I always give is the advice I’ll give again: When you post your next part of the story, go back and edit the one you did previous. A fresh perspective allows you to see what you missed, and in a tournament setting, this is critical to success.

Clarity (6) – The saving grace is that I had no real issues understanding what you guys did or the actions you performed. This is because, once again, I had very little to go off at times. This score won’t get any higher if you don’t push your boundaries further.

Technique (4) – For Treason, I have nothing but praise. You’re really pushing your boundries in trying new things, and it shows. Keep this up. Tounry, you regressed from your last round. You actually seemed to have gone backwards in the process you made. If you had a mentor teach you, you may want to go back and think of what they gave you for advice. Short, choppy, sentences don’t cut it when writing. Flesh it out.

Wildcard: (4)

Total: 47

Taste of Treason receives 235 exp and 40 gp.
Tourneymant receives 59 exp and 10 gp.