Round 2 Team 6

The team is Ciato Orlouge and BackAndBlueEyes. Round starts at Midnight tonight, CST, and lasts for two weeks. Good luck!

It's been a long fucking week.

Minutes bleed into hours, days into nights as I continue my work. That psychopath Sulla's words eat at me with every passing second. "Is that what you want,” the bespectacled freak asked me. “To stand by and watch as the idol you've dedicated your life to pats you on the head and turns her attentions towards others who may be more worthy of her gifts, her love than you are?”

No, that's not what I want. And that's not what is going to happen.

I alone am worthy of Podë's gifts and attention, no matter what she herself may think.

I have sacrificed so much of myself to please her, only to be pushed aside like I always have been for the “talents” of others, like that quivering little bag of bones and whimpers, Cellar Door. What did she see in that useless little bitch? No discernible talent, skills, or worth; a girl still blossoming into adulthood... She had no business being so far from home, deep in the middle of the Red Forest where everything could kill her within the drop of a single grain of an hourglass's sand. She should've been back home, wherever the hell that was, finding herself a rich husband to marry and waste her years in miserable isolation whilst popping out heirs.

But now, I was having the worst time trying to track her down among the crimson-leaved trees and winding dirt paths.

I should've let Sulla murder her. I should've holstered my gun and stand idly by as he slit her throat, spilling her lifeblood all over the forest floor and then toss her rapidly-cooling, unworthy corpse aside like a broken puppet. At least then I could be able to collect her body and, more importantly, the bits of her power and spirit that Podë locked away inside her.

Ever since that moment with the three of us in the forest, my gun to that murderer's head while the girl scrambled away, I have not heard from Podë. Not a single whisper from her in the wind that rattled the dead branches that hung overhead like a barrier.

Not a word from her as I hunted down and slayed the first of her pitiful chosen. Nor did she speak to me after the second, or the third, or even the fifth.

You see, it was on that second day of silence that I formed a plan. A dark, horrible scheme to be sure, one that could potentially have terrible implications for Salvar, Corone, Raiaera--the world at large. I theorized that these gifts she gave to myself and the others were shards of her own blackened soul that had incredible power locked within. She was using us as phylacteries, splitting her essence so she could live through us in a fashion after this little operation destroyed her corporeal form.

What would those who have received her gifts do with them? I can safely tell you right now that they would do nothing that would bring a smile to her face from beyond the veil. This is why I have been collecting them, you see. I will tear their gifts from their decaying corpses once Podë meets her ultimate fate here in the forest, and I will fuse them together so she is whole again in a vessel of my choosing. Perhaps a little lesser, but still the terror that she has been for ages.

This new, reformed Red Witch will be under my full control. I will have access to the power that I was due once I accepted my service to her. When she... abandoned me for the help of others, I felt lost. I felt lost, confused, heartbroken, torn, betrayed... I was angry. I was hurt. I could have fucking saved her. These feelings festering deep within my heart only steeled my resolve to see this plan through.

I will not let the sudden decision by a bunch of sniveling, back-stabbing, cowardly councilmen to send a ragtag collection of characters to eliminate someone who has given me a sense of purpose in life take everything away from me. I will not lose everything that I have worked so hard for. I will not let them erase every trace of such a powerful force that has helped sustain the balance of light and darkness for countless years.

This world needs her.

I need her.

My hunt for the others continues. May the gods have mercy on anybody who tries to stop me.

I've found another one.

A young man in his early twenties, by the looks of him. I stumbled upon his group, nearly revealing myself by accident as I lurked in the bushes as they continued to press forward. Several times over the past day, I saw that he lagged behind the others and would argue with himself in hushed tones... At least, the first time I thought it was with himself. There were moments that I heard him whisper honorary titles that one could use to describe Podë--phrases such as "dark mistress", "vile temptress", "witch", and the like.

I could feel my anger coming to a boiling point. Surely his little distractions were being caused by the one who I thought trusted me. Several others that I came across acted in a similar manner; they were actively trying to fight the effects of her magic, arguing futilely with voices and visions.

...It would be so easy to just... isolate him from the group, break his neck, and transport him to where I've been storing the other bodies. However, I noticed that his other squad mates have an increased paranoia about them--the man who I presumed was in charge in particular snapped at the boy whenever he noticed him lagging behind, grappling with the energies that were forcing him to become a vessel for a dying Forgotten One. There was one time in particular where I noted that this captain figure roughly grabbed him by the hair, forced the boy's face close to his, and proceeded to verbally tear him a new one about staying with the group and you really need to pay attention what if another pack of mercenaries shows up and slaughters the rest of the group I bet you would feel like such a shithead then wouldn't you watching the only two friends you have left in this world die like that it would be your fault you idiot--

The words pack of mercenaries swirled around in my mind for a second when I heard them, dredging up memories of the vagabonds that slaughtered half of my own assigned group and scattered the rest. My thoughts turned to Elthas--I hoped that he made it back to the Raiaerans' base camp at the tree line just fine. As for Sulla and Cellar, they'd be lucky if the dangers lurking within the Red Forest got to them before I could.

With the way that the other man was acting, simply isolating this chosen was going to be more trouble than it was worth. The leader would presumably stop the group's trek and immediately start looking for his missing friend; and from the glimpses I was able to get, it seemed like he would be relentless in his search. That would only cause problems for me. On the other hand; if I were to just pop up out of nowhere and kill the leader and the other member of their little group (a quiet brunette with a ponytail, a claymore strapped to her back, and a functional suit of armor that she moved around in unhindered as if it were her own skin), I would run the risk of letting him escape into the depths of these forsaken woods.

A tough situation, to be sure. But, I will not leave them without the boy's life and the shards of Podë's power that his soul had been corrupted with.

I followed them for hours while I formulated a plan. It needed finesse, a bit of luck, and a whole lot of lying. I was mentally drained from the events of the past week or so; in my other killings, I found that I had been making small mistakes here and there that I normally would not have. I chalked it up to physical exhaustion rather than being overcome with jealousy and anger that I was cast aside by the one who had given me purpose. Deep down, however, I knew it was the latter that was causing my missteps.

Being extra careful to keep silent within the crimson-stained brush, out of sight of the traveling trio, I took my scarf out of my dark leather satchel and held it in my briar-knit hands. It was a nifty little thing I picked up at the bazaar one day after the events of Eiskalt, when I figured it would be wise to invest in a sort of "secret identity". It was a wool scarf, dyed in a pattern of thick stripes that alternated black and gray. Not the most exciting stylistic design, but I've always been a woman of simple tastes.

I wrapped the scarf around my neck, and the enchantments immediately took effect. The green vines of my arms suddenly took on the slightly-tanned flesh of a young woman in her mid-twenties, and my black hair seemingly grew three inches and turned into the bright copper tones of a redhead. A smattering of freckles popped up on my suddenly fuller face. My ol' baby blues turned a piercing emerald green that glistened in the sun.

It was an adequate disguise for when I needed it. Now was definitely one of those times.

I redid the clasp that kept my satchel shut, and ran my hands through my bright hair in order to mess it up and give off the impression that I had been on the run from something. Slowly at first, but quickly building up with a great fervor, I rattled the nearby bushes to alert the threesome before me that I was coming. I rose to my feet and burst forth from the bushes towards them, running at first but slowly coming to a stop with some theatrical fits of heavy breathing and sobs as I put my hands on my knees and bowed before them.

It's showtime.

*Sigh* Ciato Orlouge is an idiot who has been eliminated.

I was immediately greeted with the distinct shink of a sword being ripped from its metal scabbard shattering the afternoon calm. I did not flinch, even as I felt the sharp edge of the cold steel press on my chin, slicing the skin and drawing a few drops of blood as he forced my head up to look him in the eye.

He was definitely of the "grizzled adventurer" sort. A month's worth of beard adorned his tan, weathered face, his eyes a shade of blue that was nearly dulled to gray by cynicism and hard times. His dark brown hair was kept short and shaggy, and looked as if it hadn't been washed in ages. He had this air of authority about him that told me that I better go along with whatever game he was about to play. This man was definitely someone who expected to be listened to and obeyed. Perhaps he had been a sellsword company leader or a military officer at one point. It's a shame he was going to end up dead soon; based off of first impressions alone, I might have tried to persuade him to join the ranks of the Crimson Hands.

"Who are you?" The man's voice was gruff. "Where did you come from? Are you alone?" He narrowed his gaze at me as he raised the blade of his sword just enough to draw more blood.

The woman in the ponytail appeared beside and set her hand on his forearm. "Stefan, please..." Her voice was stern yet calm and motherly at the same time. The sellsword, Stefan, glanced over at the knight, back at me, and then clicked his tongue and sighed heavily as he lowered his blade. It took every bit of restraint I could muster to not fire off a scathing, venom-soaked quip regarding the situation and blow my cover.

The knight knelt down in front of me and took my hands in her own gloved mitts. She gave me a couple comforting pats, and I was suddenly very grateful that she was not able to feel the rough tangles of vines that were hidden under the fleshy illusions. "It's going to be okay, dear," she said sweetly. "Tell me your name."

Even if this all weren't a ruse on my part, I got the innate feeling that this woman was someone I could trust. There was just this air of gentle authority about her. A feeling that while she was around, nothing was going to happen to any of us. It was something that I've tried to emulate myself around my charges within the Crimson Hand, to varying degrees of success. "My... My name is Nadia," I lied through ragged breaths.

"Nadia..." She smiled, her thin lips parting to reveal a row of perfect white teeth. "I'm Caitlin." She nodded towards the sellsword, his weapon still in-hand and ready to run me through in a moment's notice. "That's Stefan, and the third is Tomas."

I looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Tomas, the chosen. He was a man a couple inches taller than I, and years younger. A dirty mop of blond hair was slicked back with the oil and dirt that came with adventuring dozens of miles away from the nearest hot bath. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, and seemed to have trouble focusing on anything that was established in the reality that surrounded us. The leather armor he wore had definitely seen some action within the last couple days, cut in parts and stained with dried blood that he never bothered to wash off. Laundry facilities within the Red Forest were scarce as well, of course.

"So," Caitlin the knight continued, "Why are you out in a dangerous place like this all by your lonesome?"

I had to quite literally tear my eyes away from Tomas, who had begun muttering to himself the second I looked at him. A heavy weight grew in my stomach with each quiver of his lip. I had such a terrible feeling about him, and it put me on such an edge that I didn't have to act that much to sound like I was exhausted and wary. "It... it was a band of mercenaries," I said in a daze.

I told them my story, some parts subdued while others exaggerated to warm them to me. Without naming any names, I told them about Cellar, Sulla, Elthas, and the two other guys whose names I had already forgotten. I made sure to go into great detail about the attack on our group as we traversed through the Red Forest, how we were encircled and picked off one by one. I noted that within the chaos of battle, Sulla had slipped away with Cellar. I spun this as the psychopath working as an inside man for the mercenary band that sent them secret messages as to our whereabouts in order to cause enough of a distraction where he could get away with his true prize (which in a fashion really was true; Sulla desired Cellar as a means of getting to Podë).

I moved onto how I was separated from Elthas and returned to find that I was the sole survivor of the group. I lied to them regarding how long it took me to track down Sulla and Cellar and how I went about doing such a thing; instead of being conveniently pointed in their direction by the bloody corpse of a rapidly-cooling companion, I told the trio that I spent three days following their tracks before confronting the kidnapper deep in the woods.

"Did you deliver the justice that he was due," Caitlin asked.

I scratched my chin where Stefan had cut me, noting that the small wound had already healed over perfectly. I shook my head as I addressed the woman in the polished armor. "No. The girl managed to get wrestle herself from his grasp and escape, but he distracted me by biting down on his tongue and spitting a mouthful of blood in my eyes." I pointed to various splatters of dried blood on my jacket, indicating that some of it got on my clothing as well. In all actuality, it was the blood of one of the chosen that managed to get all over the garment.

The knight simply nodded. I continued, my voice cracking from talking for so long. "It's been four days since that incident. I've come across neither the girl nor her kidnapper since then. I fear the worst for her, but..." I looked down at the ground and fidgeted with the hem of my jacket to give them time to fill the blanks in themselves.

Stefan and Caitlin shot knowing looks at each other. This time, it was the sellsword's turn to talk. He did so with an annoyed sigh. "Let me take a guess here. You want to know if you can tag along with us as we continue our mission as a matter of your own personal safety."

I straightened up a bit to show him that I could be tough as well. "It was my mission too, you know. I know what I signed up for."

He snorted, his lips curled in a smirk. "Yes, of course. How rude of me to suggest otherwise." He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, we've had our own encounter with those bands of killers, you know. Took out two of my comrades from the company and two others. How do we know that your story isn't a ruse meant to distract us while a group of your friends surrounds us for the kill? How do we know that you weren't sent to clean up the mess left from the last ambush?"

My emerald eyes narrowed just enough, and I let a little bit of the ol' Madison Freebird venom slip into my voice. "Because if I were going to kill you," I said in hushed tones, "I would've done so already."

The man laughed in defiance, and turned to walk away. In a flash, he whipped back around, his sword arm arcing overhead, weapon gripped tightly in his white-knuckled hand. He let out a bellow that echoed off the dead gray bark of the trees that surrounded us. Stefan was quick, but I was that much more so. As he brought down the blade, I ripped The Last Resort from its holster on my right hip and jammed the barrel right into the space between his eyes. A look of sudden shock flashed across his greasy, pock-marked features as he halted his attack. The edge of his sword was still a solid six or eight inches from splitting my skull. Once Stefan got over this sudden change of events, he searched my face for any hint of trepidation. He found none. Instead, he got a glimpse of the monster that I truly was underneath the enchantments. He could sense that despite my appearances, I truly had what it takes for him to accept me as part of his group for the time being.

He smiled again, this time in earnest as he slowly lowered his sword and sheathed it. I did the same with my revolver, slowly retreating back into the security of my disguise. The opportunity was right there, I chided myself. You could've shot him down, taken out the knight, and then murdered the boy as well. It was all right there for you, and it was that simple! Why didn't you do it, you idiot?

The reason was, of course, the unknown capabilities of the knight. I had yet to see Caitlin do anything other than be motherly and look disapprovingly at Stefan as he continued being the tough guy of the trio. For all I knew, she could've sliced me into a million pieces with inhuman speed before the bullet left the chamber. Over the years, I learned that I had to be patient and know every single little thing about the company I was in before I acted. This was no exception. Not with what was at stake for me and my future.

"Come on," Stefan motioned to me as he walked away. "Let's get a move on. We can still make a few more miles until dark." Caitlin looked at me with unreadable eyes before she adjusted her pack on her shoulders and followed him. The sellsword stopped in front of Tomas briefly. This entire time, his piercing look never turned from me. He stood there, his eyes boring a hole through my very soul, his lips trembling softly in silent conversation with the unknown. "Tomas," Stefan called out. "Tomas!" Again, he did not get an answer.

He raised a hand in front of the boy's face and snapped so loud that it cracked like thunder. Tomas was immediately brought out of his trance. His eyes fluttered for a brief second, and then he turned toward the sellsword with the look that a pet dog would have when it crapped on an ornamental rug but doesn't understand why it's getting yelled at. "Do pay attention, son. We're on our way towards the heart of this gods-forsaken place. Nadia will be joining us from here on. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," Tomas managed to stammer. Whatever state of mind he was in for the past few minutes, it had clearly drained him. It set me on edge. For all of the unknown elements regarding the sellsword and the knight, it was this boy that truly unnerved me. Something was most certainly off about him. I was nearly certain as to what it was; but the extent of that particular thing was still hidden to me.

Tomas turned back to look at me for a second before he moved to catch up up with the others.

A voice filled my head as he walked away. It was both familiar to me, and yet incredibly foreign at the same time. It simply said one word.

"Liar."

"Liar!" The voice was louder this time.

I looked at Tomas as he climbed over the ashen-barked remains of a fallen tree. The voice spoke again. "You are a liar and a coward, Naaaadia."

The way it lingered on my false name sent shivers down my spine. I did not like where this was going. I tried communicating back, filling my mind with a single thought. "I am not a coward."

"You are a liar and a coward," it repeated, even louder than before. It felt like I was having the inside of my skull scraped with a tool made of pure hatred. "You hide behind false pretenses of searching for companionship! You tell these people to their faces that you are not here to kill them! She has seen all you have done these past seven days! She has granted me the insight and strength I need to stop your game, Naaaaadia!" She has told me all!"

Well, fuck me. I smiled inwardly. My unease was replaced with a malicious joy. "Thanks for confirming my suspicions, by the way."

Tomas did not answer immediately. "You will not get that which you so desperately seek," he projected with slightly less confidence than before. "The Red Witch is not happy with your actions as of late."

"The feeling's mutual," I spat back.

The boy ignored me. "I could kill you right now. With just a thought, I could tear your mind to shreds. I could make you go insane, revert you back to the mental state of a child, erase all of your memories..."

My sight burst into a brilliant white for a moment, and lightning shot through my brain and down my spine. My screams echoed throughout the forest as I gripped the side of my head, squeezing tightly as if that would be of any use. My jaw clenched and I dropped down to one knee, dirtying the fabric of my pants in the muddy debris. Caitlin immediately spun around and rushed over, kneeling down next to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright, Nadia? What's the matter? What happened?"

The pain suddenly dissipated, leaving nothing but a dull ache and momentary confusion. I blinked a few times. My vision had returned as well. "It's... It's nothing," I managed to squeak out. "Just a sudden migraine, is all. I'll be fine, I promise."

The knight looked at me with concern as I rose unsteadily to my feet. I raised a hand, motioning to her that I'd be fine in a moment. She lingered for a second before she turned back and rejoined Stefan, who had simply looked upon the entire event with nothing more than mild annoyance and disapproval. Tomas had stopped as well, that bastard. He simply stared at me without emotion.

"If it were my call, I'd do it again a thousand times over," he projected into my aching head.

I sent him the mental image of a thousand middle fingers standing on end.

A soft chuckle seemed to come from every direction. At first, it sounded like it came from Tomas, but as the last echoes fluttered in the breeze I distinctly heard a more feminine tone. There was no mistaking who it belonged to; and that creeping realization of what it could possibly mean for me gnawed away at my heart. I tried my best to put it out of my mind, before that creep could pick it up and use it against me.

I needed to keep him occupied. "If you think you're capable of doing so, then why don't you just kill me?"

"Because that's not what she wants," Tomas lamented. "Podë's gifts came with caveats, really. She has made me aware of your actions and desires, and believes she knows what you're up to as you walk your little path of death and destruction. However..." The little brat lingered in thought for a moment. "I have strict orders not to kill you."

"To your infinite sorrow, I imagine."

Tomas's laugh reverberated in my mind. "It would be a pretty big feather in my cap to say that I was the one to finally capture and kill the Scourge of Eiskalt, yeah?"

...Goddammit. This son of a bitch can pick through my memory like a library's dust-covered card catalog.

"Anyway," the little sandy-haired brat continued, "no matter what you may believe about what you deserve and what is right, all of us... All of us chosen, as you would put it, serve a purpose in her game of chess. And that includes you."

"I know my purpose," I said flatly. "I'm to carry on her legacy. I am her Agent, and I will stop at nothing to see her work continue."

Tomas's words turned visibly dark in my mind as he channeled his anger--Podë's anger. "Your purpose here is to watch our enemies and learn their names, and then avenge her when the time is right! Why don't you understand that? Killing your friends, your allies... It does nothing to help our cause--her cause!"

I did not respond. It was best that I didn't. My anger began to bubble to the surface when he called himself and the others I have killed my friends. No, these people were not my friends; they were walking reminders of a Forgotten One's false promises. I wanted to kill him for suggesting otherwise. I wanted to slit his throat, poison his lungs with plague, consume his flesh with fungus, and disintegrate the remains with acid.

These people are not my friends. These people do not deserve the gifts they have been given. They're the ones that are nothing more than chess pieces. Desperate gambits made by a goddess who is too blind to see her true champion.

A champion cast aside and left to rot while the one she sacrificed so much to please willingly danced towards her own oblivion.

We traveled in silence for the next few hours, uninterrupted by the horrors that lurked just out of sight. As we continued down the winding dirt path, stopping occasionally for Stefan and Tomas to check the maps and argue over routes. The four of us continued our trek towards the heart of the Red Forest, where Podë undoubtedly waited for her end to come. By the time that Stefan stopped us to set up camp for the night, the entire group was exhausted. It didn't take long for a small fire pit to be dug and branches collected to start a cooking fire. Caitlin, who opted not to remove her armor even though it was pretty obvious she was having a hell of a time inside the metallic cocoon, dug in her pack for some ingredients and a pan.

Tomas simply spaced out, his lips moving almost imperceptibly as he silently communed with a dying god.

I tried to push all of my jealousy and anger out of my mind. I had a goal to achieve here--that little brat's horrible, messy death. Focusing my thoughts, I began plotting everything out.

I would have to find a way to isolate that little telepathic shithead. That was going to be the most difficult part, though--between his mindreading capabilities and Stefan's distrust of me ever since I suddenly dropped in on them earlier this afternoon, I had enough problems. And then you take into account the unknown abilities of Caitlin... I would have to find out what sort of problems she would cause for me before I enacted any plans. I very much would prefer a course of action that would leave the knight and the sellsword alive, since they're not the ones I'm after. They're not chosen. They're just a couple of people taking the Raiaerans' coin in hope of achieving a small bit of glory and purpose.

Sure, Stefan's a bit of a dick and all, and could probably stand being taught a lesson in humility... But I think that the demonstration of my speed with my gun was enough to knock him down a peg or two.

The meager dinner passed without incident, or further intrusion of my thoughts by Tomas. The last rays of the dying afternoon sun disappeared, leaving a calm and cloudless night sky overhead. The light of the moon and the amber glow of the fire provided just enough light to ward away the shadows of darkness around our little base camp. Stefan declared that we should pair off and alternate turns catching some shut-eye and watching out for the infinite dangers that the forest was famous for unleashing when those who traversed its confines least expected it. I volunteered to team up with Caitlin and take the first round of guard duty. I had to find out more about her...

We had thrown more wood on the fire to keep it going while the others slept. Despite the evening chill that settled in around us, Caitlin and I were rather comfortable standing with our backs to the small pit. The enchantments on my artic leather bodice did well to keep me nice and warm in any environment. The knight, on the other hand, either had the willpower to shut out the cold or a nice set of thermal clothing on underneath her polished steel shell.

I gazed into the infinite blackness beyond our camp, the occasional shimmer of pale moonlight reflected off the crimson-stained leaves as a light breeze blew through the branches. Somewhere out there, there were more examples of the lies and lack of trust that Podë had in me. I would find them, collect their cold, dead, fear-stricken bodies and gain the power that I was due from the beginning of the High Bard Council's desperate push to cleanse their stupid forest.

The telltale rattle of armor signaled Caitlin's approach to my side. It was the first time since shamed Stefan into sheathing his sword that she really approached me. We acknowledged each other with polite nods before she spoke. "It's a hell of a situation everyone's gotten themselves into here, isn't it?"

My thoughts turned to Sulla and Cellar, the killers that ambushed the rest of my group, the chosen who I in turn ambushed and murdered, my brewing plans for Tomas, and even so far back as to the night that I had been granted the powers by the Red Witch herself. I let them swirl around in my head for a brief second before I nodded my head. "Yeah," I remarked. "Yeah, it is."

Caitlin faced forward and crossed her arms in front of her chest, shifting her weight on her left leg to get comfortable as we stood watch. Long seconds passed before she spoke again. "I hope you forgive Stefan for his rudeness and paranoia."

"It's alright," I said dismissively. "It's expected with a man like him, I suppose. He mentioned something about two of his company falling in an ambush, so I figured that he might have been in a mercenary group of his own."

The knight nodded. "This is true. The elves assigned me to this group, and when I met them, all three of them--Stefan, Graves, and Riley, that is--were in such high spirits. They talked often about the glory and fame they would achieve by slaying a malevolent being like the Red Witch. Stefan took it pretty hard and blamed himself when they were overwhelmed in battle." The memory of that horrible conflict and the stress that it caused the entire party was obvious in the lines on her face. I decided not to press the matter further.

"What about you," I asked. "What's your story?"

"I am a Cleric of Draconus," Caitlin said with a smile.

So she's a Cleric, I thought to myself. That means, should worst come to worst, I can expect a slew of non-violent spells. Alright, cool, nothing I'm sure I can't handle. This could've been a lot worse.

"Huh. I never would've guessed that the Clerics would've sent someone out this far, to such a dangerous and foreign place." I looked her up and down, catching the glimmering light of the fire off the polished metal of her suit. "In full battle gear, no less."

A single word infiltrated my thoughts. "Hey."

"Shut the fuck up when grown folks are talking," I projected back.

Caitlin continued to tell her story. "It is a common misconception that the Clerics are not trained in battle. While it is true that we generally go about our quest to spread the love and word of the Dragon Lord through non-violent means, there are sects of us that are ready and able to pick up the sword when the time calls for it." She turned back towards the forest before us and nodded into it, her ponytail bobbing against her shoulders as she did so. "This is one of those times."

We stood in silence for several moments. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her about the conflicting nature of the Thayne and the pantheon that the Raiaerans worshipped. I wanted to know why she, as a Cleric of Draconus, would be willing to help those who did not recognize the deity she pledged her life to serve. But then, given the gravity of the task that these people had taken on, I assumed I would get some sort of "for the greater good" answer and then the subject would be dropped.

The knight broke the silence. "What about you? What brings you here to join the elves' cause?"

Son of a... The question I hoped would never come up in conversation. Think, Maddy! Think!

I pursed my lights tightly. "I'm just a wandering soul who wants to do what's right, you know?"

The look in Caitlin's eyes said that she was looking for something more substantial. Something to connect with me on. Perhaps she was secretly trying to measure me up to try and convert me or something?

"I've been... I've had a rough go at it these past couple years," I said in a manner of half-truth. I opted to go with a slight bastardization of my own story, with names changed to avoid incrimination and deflect the darkest truths of my tale. I chose my words carefully to inspire pity rather than wrath. "I've traveled the world," I began, "taking on small jobs here and there, searching for a place to belong... I've done some horrible things. I've killed for money and revenge. I've stolen. I've lied. But, I've tried so hard to turn my life around."

I glanced over at Caitlin, whose eyes were unreadable. "I honestly have. I've done what I could to atone for some of my sins... These past two years or so, I've walked the world, doing what I can to help save it."

The voice returned. "Liar. Coward," it taunted.

Looking over at Tomas, I saw he was lying on his side with his back to us, his arms curled up underneath his head. "Don't you worry, I will end you soon enough."

My attentions went back to the Cleric of Draconus before me. "I was there during the Coronian Civil War--do you remember those times? I went to Eiskalt during their recent struggles with the plague, joining up with the aid organizations that were offering food and medicine to those affected by the blight."

"The only aid you offered them was a swifter death."

"How about I offer you a bullet to the back of your head?"

Caitlin simply nodded. "An honorable cause, to be sure," she offered. "But... I sense that there is far more to your story than you let on."

Oh great, here we go. A small bead of sweat formed on my forehead.

She drew closer to me, putting a gloved hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. "I sense a... a sort of darkness deeply rooted in your soul."

Oh fuck, she knows.

"It is a darkness that I have never felt before. As much as you try to fight it, it doesn't let go. It holds you tight, eating away at you with each passing day."

I tried to deflect her just a bit. "Are you certain that it's not my guilt from my past actions? Because, you know, that shit has hung heavy on my heart for so long."

The cleric shook her head in disagreement. "No. I can certainly sense something... more. It's a darkness that I have never encountered in my service to the Dragon Lord." She took hold of my other shoulder and turned me around to face her completely. I felt every fiber of my being wanting nothing more than to push her away. My mind screamed that this woman was suddenly very dangerous, if she could sense the corruption that Podë's gifts left in me. I wanted to get away. I wanted to spray acid into her face. My lungs began filling with the vile blight that had murdered thousands of innocent people.

Tomas's voice echoed in my mind once more. "Hey. Hey, Agent." I ignored his calls this time.

Caitlin's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I can save you, Nadia. We can save you. Draconus is a kind god, and a forgiving god. This darkness that weighs heavy on your heart, this guilt of your transgressions... His love can dispel it. You don't have to continue walking the path you're on, searching for forgiveness through small actions."

It's far to late to save me. Those words were on the tip of my tongue when the both of us heard the soft rattling of bushes nearby. At first, I thought it might have been the breeze--but then I heard another noise accompanying it. I recognized it immediately, and suddenly my heart found itself firmly lodged in my throat.

The boy's laughter was shrill as it pierced my mind. "Our mistress sends her regards, Madison Freebird!"

One by one, the figures began emerging from the shadows that circled the camp. Ashen-barked branches rustled and snapped as they appeared from all sides. By the light of the flickering fire, they didn't look terribly off--but their jilted gait was a dead giveaway as to their true natures (if you'll pardon the pun).

Caitlin was the first to act. She let go of my shoulders and reached over her own to rip her steel claymore from its resting place on her back. Her cry was damn near ear-splitting. "Shamblers!"

Suddenly, there was so much action going on in the camp. Stefan jolted awake and was armed and on his feet before Tomas could even rise to a sitting position and ask what was going on. The sellsword punted the boy's short sword into his fumbling hands and cursed him out for not being more attentive. I took a quick look around the camp at the undead that were pouring out of the tree line. They were dressed in rotting garb that was nearly unidentifiable in their origin, but distinctly different in style from one another. They had various patchwork pieces of armor: Rusty helmets, leather cuirasses that had deep, piercing slash marks stained with dry blood, gloved hands that dragged dull and cracked weapons that dug into the dirt and dead leaves as their wielders continued their single-minded mission.

I ripped The Last Resort from its holster, opting to just skip the knives and any risk involved with getting bitten and go straight for an absolute solution to all of my problems.

Moving back towards the center of the camp, I spun around to get a clear line of sight against the first available exposed, decaying skull I could find. The Cleric of Draconus was startlingly fluid with her motions as she spun around in a circle to build momentum with the massive sword before raising it up to neatly carve up a group of two of the shamblers like they were festival turkeys.

"What the hell is going on here," Stefan shouted as he sliced off the top half of one's head with an incredible fury. "Where did they come from?!"

"A gift for our dear little Nadia from the Red Witch," the little blond-haired brat said to me tauntingly.

Focusing on the group in front of me, I counted out two pairs of eyes. With quick, focused motions, I put a bullet right between each of them. The rapports of the flintlock revolver cracked like thunder, filling the clearing with two flashes of powder and fire and drawing the attention of the handful of rotting corpses that remained.

One of the fuckers took a single step towards me before Caitlin threw out her hand. A brilliant ball of lightning formed in her palm and quickly stretched out to find its way into the fiend's open mouth. There was a loud crack that shook the trees as the poor thing's head exploded in a shower of thick blood, rotten flesh, and bone. The cleric had another storm brewing but was quickly distracted when a pair of tattered hands grabbed onto her pauldrons and yanked her back.

She cried out in surprise, and I acted quickly. Firing another shot with her head that close to the shambler's was too risky--instead, I dashed over and brought down the heavy iron gun onto the things skull. It caved in almost immediately with a sickening noise, soaking the barrel of The Last Resort in the muddy remains of the thing's brain.

Caitlin quickly regained her footing, said her thanks, and knelt down to retrieve her claymore from the weed-choked floor of the forest before continuing to defend the camp from this incredibly rude intrusion. She immediately turned to engage another pair of the undead that were behind her. I spun around camp, finding Stefan busy knee-deep in a pile of corpses, working to free his blade from the head of one attacker who was half-heartedly clawing at his arm in his re-death throes.

My eyes fell upon the flailing sword arm of Tomas. He was slowly backpedaling towards the campfire, his back to me as he tried to fend off the approaches of two shamblers. Without missing a single beat, I raised my revolver into the air, sighted my target, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

Tomas lurched forward, a spurt of blood, bone, and gray matter exploding out of his forehead and coating the torn leather vest of the fiend to his right. The boy immediately dropped his sword, which clanged against the ground several times as it settled. The pair of them watched as his lifeless body slumped onto his knees with nothing more than mild curiosity before they decided to see what the source of this sudden change of events was. Their dull, unfocused eyes found nothing but the smoking barrel of my gun and an annoyed look on my face.

I pulled the trigger twice more, dropping the pair of them next to my face-down nemesis. Quick glances around the camp confirmed that that was the last of them. I lowered the revolver and stared silently at Tomas's bleeding head as a growing pool of dark crimson soaked into the dirt underneath. The rotten little son of a bitch never knew what hit him. I breathed a sigh of relief that he would torment me no more.

That's six, I noted grimly.

"Tomas!" Stefan cried out as the fog of the skirmish cleared from his mind. The gore-stained sellsword ran over to the body of his traveling companion, kneeling onto the dirt and drawing closer to him. His shaking hand hovered over the boy's back for several seconds before clenching into a tight fist.

"You... you stupid whore..." The grieving man stood up and turned to face me, a cold fury burning bright in his eyes, his mouth contorted into a vicious scowl. "I knew I should've run you through when you first showed up. You killed him, you bitch! You killed Tomas!"

The light of the fire glinted off the sharp edge of his sword. Raising the weapon up into an offensive stance, Stefan took a step closer to me. I did not react. No twitch of a muscle, no raising of The Last Resort to threaten him into a stalemate, no effort to defend myself from his advance.

Caitlin raised her hand, motioning for him to stop. "Stefan--no! Wait!"

"Shut up, Caitlin," he snapped. "I will not stand by as my friends and brothers are taken from me one by one! We risked it all to take up the elves' worthless cause! I will not stand for this anymore!"

The sellsword charged me, his scream filled with the anger and sadness that had overcome him. He took several wild slashes at me, each of them easily dodged. Following every one of his strikes, I found several openings for a counterattack--and yet I did nothing.

"I don't want to kill you too," I hissed as his steel filled the space I had taken up moments prior. The daggers on my hip bounced with the swift movements, crying out to be unsheathed, crying out for his bastard's blood.

Stefan came at me with a powerful overhead slash that I rolled out of the way of in the nick of time. Leaves and debris were kicked up as his blade hit the dirt. I rose to one knee, gun still tightly gripped in my briar-knit fist. I had one bullet left in the chamber, and it would be several moments more before the enchantments emptied additional rounds and powder charges from my belt and reloaded the gun. I wasn't confident enough in my knife skills to use my mythril beauties to parry and counter his furious sword strikes. Of course, there's always the acid and plague to calm him down quickly...

Screw it, I decided. There was no need to hide behind the illusion of a fair-skinned redhead anymore.

I filled my left hand with acid that quickly crystalized in the chilly Raiaeran night. I thrust my hand forward, sending the shards at an off angle so that they wouldn't completely shred the sellsword--as I said, I had no intention to kill. Rather, several pieces of sharp amber glass embedded themselves in his dominant hand and forearm. Stefan winced in pain and dropped his weapon. Falling to one knee, he muttered a few curses at me, the fury still burning bright in his features and overriding any sense of pain he might have been feeling..

I opened my mouth to say something, anything; but no words come out. I was at a complete loss as to how to react. My instincts were telling me to just say fuck it and end this wretch's life here and now. But what had he done to deserve to die? Absolutely nothing. I had nothing to gain by killing him, nothing at all. He was not one of Podë's chosen. There was no piece of her soul to be taken from him. There was the whole matter of him being witness to Tomas's murder; but let's face it--with an injured sword hand, only one other person at his back, and a forest full of shamblers, shapeshifting wolves, malevolent elementals, and other such horrors... There was little chance he would ever escape with his life anyway.

Caitlin had finally gotten over the shock of the moment and made her move. As I took a step towards Tomas's body, a circle of runes appeared at my feet, surrounding me. Several dozen thin bars of bright orange light erupted from the crimson weed-choked ground and reached into the air well above my head. I looked around--completely caged in by a containment spell. I stopped to see that the cleric had her arms stretched out, her fingertips glowing with the same shade of orange.

I slowly holstered my flintlock revolver. "Caitlin," I said with my voice low, "Please... Let me go... Nobody else is going to get hurt tonight."

The Cleric of Draconus was visibly torn. She clearly wanted to believe me, but she also wanted to be loyal to her creed and do whatever she could to keep Stefan safe. She shook her head... Slowly, at first, but soon with a great fervor. "No... I... I can't release you. Not after what you did..."

My mouth twisted into a curt frown. "I swear it. I only came for the boy, not either of you."

"...Why? Why did you do it? Why did you betray Tomas? ...Us?" Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, with a hint of sadness.

I thought about how I would respond. I was ready to spill everything--how Podë was handpicking her successors, how I had been one of them myself, how I felt that I alone deserved her gifts... Instead, I opted for a mixture of the truth and a handful of white lies. If I could appeal to Caitlin's values and beliefs of redemption in the eyes of the deities...

"I did not betray Tomas, I saved him," I began. Reaching up, I slowly unwrapped the scarf from around my neck and let it fall to the forest floor. The enchantments broke, and both Stefan and Caitlin recoiled in horror as they got a look of the real me. My hair turned back to its natural shade of black, my features grew paler and sharper, and the tangle of vines that made up my hands and arms were now on full display underneath the short-sleeved jacket I had grabbed off one of my prior victims.

"I've done some... horrible things," I continued, my voice lacking any trace of emotion. "I've stolen, I've manipulated, and yes; I've murdered. But... I'm trying to change. I'm trying to atone for my past sins."

If these words triggered anything within Caitlin, her face did not betray it. I pressed on with my half-hearted plea. "A few months ago, I was approached by the Red Witch herself. She offered me a share of her power, knowing that soon her time was up. I took that power; but soon after the corruption took hold of me, I felt that I had made a big mistake." I looked the armored cleric right in her eyes, which were shimmering with the light from her fingertips as she held me in the containment spell. "I learned that she planned to spread her corruption to others that had joined the Raiaerans' cause, granting them gifts and coercing them into continuing her dark work after her ultimate demise."

My eyes drifted over to Tomas for a brief moment before I continued. "He was one of the chosen," I said as I motioned towards his bloody corpse with a vine-woven hand. "I made the decision when I joined this cause to rebuke the gifts that I myself had been given, and prevent anyone else from leaving the Red Forest with them as well."

"Lies," Stefan said through clenched teeth as he sat knelt on the forest floor, clutching his bleeding right hand. "Tomas was not one of these... these chosen or whatever."

"Caitlin," I said softly, "you mentioned that you sensed a dark energy within me, did you not?"

"This is true," she replied.

"Tell me. Be truthful. Have you, at any point in this past week, sensed the same energy within Tomas?"

For the first time since she cast the spell that held me hostage, her focus cracked. It was several long, tense seconds before she responded. "...Yes. Yes, I have."

"It was Podë's influence," I said with a solemn nod.

Stefan's anger reached a fever pitch. "No! Lies! I will not believe it! You are a murder!!"

At this point, I had enough of his bullshit. I snapped at the sellsword. "I fucking saved his worthless ass from a fate worse than death, you idiot! You have no idea of the scope of her plans, do you? You're too blinded by your sense of family and brotherhood from your worthless little band of mercenaries to take a look at the bigger picture! This world is fucked if Podë's power escapes the edges of the forest and stains the world around us. I'm trying my damnedest to keep that from happening, and you're sitting here complaining that one of your buddies was collateral in my quest! Oh boo fucking hoo, someone did something I didn't like for the greater good! Spoiler alert, Stefan--people die! It's all a part of the fucking story!"

My words hung in the air like a cloud of plague. The venom still lingered on the tip of my tongue as the three of us sat there in utter silence. When I tore into Stefan, I threw every ounce of bile and vitriol that I could muster into my lies. All my pent up frustration from being built up then cast aside, and now--if Tomas's last words were to be believed--betrayed by the one thing that had given me an actual purpose in life... Something to strive for, to work for, to live for...

Stefan would not meet my eyes. His fists had unclenched, and he had slumped over. The weight of the world was immense on his shoulders in that moment. He was tired, he was lost, he was in mourning. He was quickly losing the will to continue on in this quest to purge the forest of its corruption, a quest that he was now the only surviving member of his company.

I turned back to Caitlin, who had remained silent this entire time. "Let me go."

She shook her head. "I... I can't."

"Please," I snarled at her.

"No. I won't."

I clenched my fists. "Now," I howled.

"You are one of Podë's blessed," she said calmly. "You admitted it yourself. You have been tainted beyond the point of saving by my god or any other."

"Oh for fuck's sake," I cried out, throwing my hands up in the air. "You don't get it either, do you?! Yeah, sure, whatever; I'm corrupted. I'm tainted. Oh woe is me, the world sees me as unclean and beyond redemption. You're going to have bigger problems if you don't dispel this shit this very second!"

A ball of red spores appeared in my hand, hungry to devour the magic that held me captive. I swiped upwards, releasing the cloud. In an instant, the fungus went to work, eating away at the cleric's spell. The thin orange bars of light quickly dissipated as their energies were consumed, but they were instantly replaced by a second round of bars, these in a tighter circle around me than before. I was not able to get my hand out of the way in time. I screamed as the holy energy singed me, burning away several layers of plant matter on my hand and forearm as I recoiled back.

Caitlin stood there, her focus renewed, determined to keep this monster caged.

Roughly an hour had passed. I remained standing within the cage of magical energy while Stefan and Caitlin went about the business of cleaning up after the shambler attack. I was starting to get cramped and uncomfortable, having little room to move around. The bars were in a tight enough circle that if I were to move six inches in any direction, I would get burned horribly again. I clenched my right hand, with which I learned that lesson--by now most of of the skin of the briar-knit limb had healed and reformed itself, leaving no evidence of the burn except for a slight tingling sensation as the regenerated cells settled in and got used to the idea of a second life.

The scowl that told Stefan's hatred towards me never left his face as he worked. Every few minutes or so, he would stop and look at me. His eyes would linger for a few minutes as he imagined the many violent, bloody ways he wanted to dispose of me before going back to moving the corpses of the undead into the brush, where presumably the creatures that populated this forsaken place would find and consume them. Caitlin... wouldn't look at me while she helped out. I couldn't get a read on her feelings. She apparently decided to react to Tomas's death and everything that occurred after it by retreating into herself and shutting out the world. It was a tactic that I knew all too well.

There was a small argument about what to do with Tomas once the rest of the bodies had been disposed of. Caitlin made the very practical argument that the boy should be thrown in the bushes, and maybe the scent of fresher meat will draw the predators sooner, giving him that much less of a chance to be raised like the others if he's in several different pieces as opposed to one. Her grieving partner was in no mood for practicality--he wanted to give him a proper burial, feeling that he deserves that much at the very least, considering all they've been through together.

It was during this conversation that I learned that Tomas was indeed one of Stefan's partners within the mercenary company he worked for. He joined several years ago after being expelled from university for whatever reason. Tomas had been a little rough around the edges, didn't take orders well, but was decent enough with a sword arm and had saved Stefan's ass in a few situations.

Caitlin made the argument that if Podë were raising corpses in the forest, then the boy would come under her spell and dig himself out of his grave, no matter how deep they made it. They argued about this for a while longer, until the sellsword gave in to cold logic and agreed to throw the chosen brat's body into the bushes with her.

Why they didn't just meet in the middle and hack him to bits and then bury them is beyond me; but I was secretly grateful that this never occurred to them. Once I somehow escaped from this containment spell, I could double back and pick up Tomas's body--and the shards of Podë's power that were locked away within.

With the camp finally cleaned up, the two finally turned their attention back towards me. I had remained still and silent this entire time, and not necessarily out of choice.

"So, what shall we do with her?" Caitlin motioned towards me, the warmth she had shown me in our conversation prior to the shambler attack gone from her voice.

The sellsword shot me a venomous look. "I say we kill her and be done with it. Leave her corpse for the horrors lurking in these woods to dispose of.

"I'm against that idea," I chimed in.

Stefan spat on the ground at my feet. "Nobody asked you, fiend."

I rolled my eyes and went back to standing around and waiting with ever-dwindling patience. It would be a while before my body could produce more of the red-tinted spores that could eat away this magic that held me captive. There was the off chance that I could just bite my lip and try to force my way through the bars--but then again, the damage that just grazing my hand against the holy magic did was rather incredible, considering. It took the majority of the last hour for the plant cells to regenerate and knit themselves back together. If I tried to squeeze my body through these glowing neon bars, there's a chance that it could kill me. There was always the option of trying to aim a shot of acidic shards through the gaps in the spell, but the chance of hitting flesh and disrupting Caitlin's concentration was very slim considering that cocoon of polished steel plate she was in.

I was at the utter mercy of a sellsword consumed with rage and a cleric blinded by her sense of morality.

Adjusting the tightly-wrapped bandages that were wrapped around his sword arm that kept his shard wounds from bleeding out, Stefan slowly paced back and forth before me. "We have to do what's right, Cait. Blood for blood."

The woman seemed unsure of herself. Deep down, she was still grappling with what her holy texts had taught her and her own personal feelings on the matter. "I... I don't know, Stefan. Killing her would serve no purpose--"

"Sure it would, you stupid bitch!" The cleric winced at his outburst. Stefan took two steps closer to her, gesturing at her and then at me with his bandaged hand. "If you let her go, what's the first thing you think she'll do? She'll kill us. She'll cut us both down where we stand. She will soak the ground with our blood, and then continue picking off others one by one. Is that what you want?"

"No. No, that's not what I want." The armored woman was clearly conflicted. Her eyes darted back and forth between myself and Stefan as she tried to sort out everything in her mind. "However, whether she lives or dies is not for up to us to decide. Only Draconus can--"

The sellsword drew dangerously close to Caitlin. "Fuck your god and the authority that you give your myths and fantasy books!" I glanced around my ethereal cage as it flickered, its caster's focus and resolve shaken by the venom and rage in his words. "The judgement is ours to make, and ours alone! In case you haven't figured it out, there is a very real god out in these woods, and this bitch was blessed with her power!"

The brunette's forehead glistened with sweat as she struggled. "But--what if she's telling the truth? What if those others she..." She paused for a long second, taking a deep breath before continuing. "What if they really were tainted by the power of the Red Witch? What if she truly thought that she would seek redemption for her own transgressions by saving the others from their dark paths in her own twisted way?"

Stefan turned to face me, darkness etched across his scarred features. "What makes you think that she didn't kill them for her own gain? To take their power and add it to her own?"

My blood turned to ice. Those words, his voice... There was something about his voice when he spoke that was slightly off.

He noticed my sudden change in demeanor, and a cruel smile crept across his face. "Did you see that? That look in her eye? That sudden burst of fear?" Stephan stepped closer to me, the campfire burning brightly behind him turning the man into a frightening silhouette. "That's exactly it. She's planning to take Podë's power for herself."

That tone in his voice... Something is not right here. I clenched and relaxed both of my briar-knit fists, my mind racing. Am I going crazy from exhaustion? What is going on here--?

Inch by inch, foot by foot, the swordsman drew closer. Each twig he stepped on cracked like thunder, each dead leaf like thin ice. All traces of mourning had been replaced by malevolence. Evil was in his eyes, and he would not stop until he got the blood he so desperately craved. "No more lies for us, eh?" His grin dropped into a sneer. "You're no better than any of the others are. Any who stepped foot into this forest, searching for the power you so desperately coveted... Any of you who so readily accepted her gifts, hoping to get more than mere scraps like the dogs you are... You're scum. Worthless scum. And soon to be dead scum, at that."

There it was.

There's no mistaking it.

His voice...

It's his voice, but there's another voice speaking those same words at the same time... A more feminine tone...

...No.

No.

No no no no no no nonononono--

"Shut the fuck up," I screeched at the top of my lungs. My mouth filled with acid, and without thinking I spat it into Stephan's grinning face. The blast of acrid smoke coming from his burning flesh immediately filled my nostrils as he recoiled back, clutching himself with his hands as he stumbled backwards towards the fire. Caitlin shouted something, but I was too consumed with a white-hot anger to make out what she was saying. My ears were ringing, my vision had gone red, and I was ready to force my way through these thin columns of holy energy, the physical cost of it be damned.

I was all set to kill this son of a bitch, until the lightning stopped me.

The runic circle at my feet went from orange to white as the ethereal bars dissipated in thin air. As I took a step forward, thick bolts of electrical energy burst from the edges of the circle and found home in my arms, my legs, my chest, and my neck. The magical energy surged through me, tearing me up from the inside faster than my body could reassemble itself. The scent of burning flesh and briar filled my nostrils. Everything turned a bright white as I convulsed. It hurt to scream, it hurt to think, it hurt to just simply exist.

Pain was all I knew in those moments.

Pain, and a dull noise in my ears that cut through the ringing. A feint disturbance that sounded like... like laughter.

And then suddenly, the storm ceased. In its place, there was a numb emptiness. My muscles relaxed, and I collapsed to the cold forest floor. Everything was growing dark. I couldn't breath. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

I silently begged the gods for more time. Just ten more seconds, so I may finish what I started with Stefan. Just ten more seconds... I'll give anything... Just... please. I have to know for sure.

My pleas were ignored by anyone and everyone who may had been listening from beyond the stars, except for one. As the cold embrace of death took me, there were the fading echoes of vile, cackling laughter in my ears.

Her laughter.

Podë.

Out of Character:

Finished.

Whereas Sulla held this honor in round one, you put together the most complete story in round 2, BlackandBlueEyes. Your writing was excellent. It was generally free from error and easy to read aside from a handful of bizaarely placed colloquialisms. Though your first person has significantly improved, you're still falling victim to what I call the first person trap, where it seems almost natural to tell the reader what you're thinking rather than show them. Indeed, there was a paragraph that ran the entire gambit of angry emotions. As for the story, I think you developed the characters well. I have two qualms. First, your persona was a bit inconsistent. First, Madison knew she would run through the group. Then, she had to check the knight's abilities. Then, she got captured. The backstory you set, running through four prior chosen ones, did not lend itself well to the way you allowed the story to develop. Making this your first attempt at killing a chosen would have made the strategy, capture and death of Madison all too real. Isn't it funny how one detail can change the entire flow of a story? In the future, please separate your thoughts from dialouge better.

Team 6 (BlackandBlueEyes)

Story: 6
Setting: 6
Pacing: 7
Action: 5
Communication: 5
Persona: 6
Mechanics: 8
Technique: 6
Clarity: 6
Wildcard: 6

Total: 61/100

BlackandBlueEyes receives 2163 EXP and 170 GP

You advance to the finals!

EXP & GP Added.