GR2010 Round 1 - Mystogain vs Darien Blackdagger

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Match Details:
Start Time*: Wednesday, September 15, 2010 @ 5:55 PM
End Time: October 15, 2010 @ 5:55PM

Post Response Limit: 4 days
Replacement Limit: 8 days

First Post: Mystogain

Match Ending Conditions: Death or KO of one character, surrender, or mutual agreement to draw (must be validated by a judge), or end of viable combat period listed above.

Standard Tournament and T1 Rules apply. See the OOC for tournament rules.

*Due to the fact that RPG was undergoing periods of instability, I decided to post the threads ASAP instead of running the risk of the site going down for days.

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Your Stage:
Three miles east of the edge of the Great Kyrvktz bog lies a massive bowl-shaped depression which is at least seventy feet below "sea level". The dust-like composition of the soil indicates that no vegetation has grown in the location for hundreds of years. Clearly visible at the bottom of the bowl is the skeletal remains of perhaps the biggest creature that resided on the planet; a wurm whose spine extends into the depths of the soil. The creature is at least three hundred feet long and thirty feet tall (when resting on the ground), and the head is clearly visible, if not slightly buried. Visibility is fair. The entire bowl is half a mile by half a mile, although each pair of combatants will have one quarter of that, with hard-defined boundaries. (If you hit the edge you will encounter a barrier, powered by the main facilities).

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May the strongest grass blade emerge highest.

Along the edge of the Great Kyrvktz bog there was a massive hole filled with the aura of death and misfortune as Mystogaln within the middle of a large skeleton of a fierce creature stood taking in his surroundings after being teleported for the match at hand. Walking along the dirt sand under him and the blazing sky above with he watched as sand was blown across his sapphire hair and white scarf covering his lower part of his face and mouth. Moving his hands under his black cloak his notices that other than the dead beast he was walk upon that there was no object or obstructions to get in the ways as the match was going making it perfect for an all-out assaults on each other.

Mystogaln suddenly stopping near a rip of the beast stops an thinks to himself about "Maybe I should have went to the lobby to see who my opposition was for this match, but on the other hand this could help pysch my opponent out as he won't know who I am either" Mystogaln trying to stiffen his thoughts as he cannot let small things get in the way of his focus."At least I did here from a guard outside the lobby that my opponent is no weakling", Mystogaln chuckles to himself, "Hope that's true because I haven't fought in a long time other than doing mission and jobs for people" he rubs his head with his bandage wrapped hands as looking under his cloak both his arms and abdomen was also wrapped going down to his legs and feet.

Touching against the rough outer exterior of the rips thinks of getting a view as he pulls out one of the four mage staffs on his back then spins it in hand. "Hermes Wind" suddenly from under mystogaln a heavy force of wind sends him skying into the air as though he had wings and he made all the way to the above and beast balancing his feet on the tip of the rip as he at least gotten blown 30 feet high looking upon the canvas of the area. Now with a better view of the skeleton and the terrain he slightly worried Mystogaln "Who the hell could have slain this thing,creepy, but I hope my target makes it on time or this would have been a total waste of my time", he waits with patience continuing to scan the field

Darien knew better than to presume this colossal skeleton was the result of a titanic battle. From his starting location, there were no obvious signs of physical conflict...at the least, there was no visible damage to the bones. It was almost as if this depression was actually a sinkhole, and whatever monstrosity that died in here must have gotten stuck--perhaps in ages past this had been a tar pit? It mattered not to him, though; he was an assassin, not an archaeologist.

The perpetual twilight of the plane made detecting his enemy difficult, even if the two of them were confined to the central region of the depression with the skeleton in it, a grim reminder to both of a very real possibility for the loser. For now, the best guess he had was that he and his opponent would be starting on opposite sides of the beast's remains, but he couldn't make any assumptions, lest his opponent take advantage of such an act by selecting an unexpected angle of attack. The sheer scale of the ring meant that a mad dash towards the cover of the skeleton would probably take a good 30 to 45 seconds, and leave him significantly winded besides, which would make his heart race and his hand shaky.

For now, it was best to walk calmly towards the center of the enclosure, eyes and ears alert for a potential opening attack from his chosen opponent...some Mystogaln dude. The whole time, his white porcelain mask glinted in the low light when he turned, and at the right angle would even seem to glow on its own. Though his senses were attuned to answering a threat, his sword was not. He wanted his opponent to get reckless and try to jump him, but his dexterity and trained senses would hopefully detect the incoming danger and dodge it, whereupon the second phase of the battle would begin.

Right now, however, they were in the first phase, where each combatant sized up their foe, trying to think one step ahead and gain an edge in strategy. It was true that first blood wasn't as important as last blood, but when they were one and the same, as it often was in his line of work, the point was fairly moot.

From afar within Mystogaln gazes sees an moving structure moving along the skeleton as he had watched predicting that his opponent has now arrived. "Hm, about time" Mystogaln murmurs to himself as he front flips off the top of the rip and lands right below where he went up as the dust and sand shifts into the air around his feet then settles again. Wiping off his cloak Mystogaln starts to walk along the spine of the great beast again to try a greet himself to his opposition and to get a better physical description of him to see how rough an opponent he'll have in this match.

Before long within the distance he from somewhat afar his proved to be considerably tall in stature and worn a strange white mask on his covering his true face which he finds not all that weird of what he was wearing himself. Still with one of his mage staff out in his right hand Mystogaln waves from the distance hoping his target would see as he murmur to himself again, "Hmmm should I really be showing of kindness to a person I'll be trying to kill, oh well", Mystogaln suddenly feeling dumb about himself for a moment just couldn't help but put a grin across his face cause after the greeting there will be no smiling faces to look upon.

"So you must be my opponent, I am Mystogaln and I've been waiting" Mystogaln yells still grinning, but cautious.

Darien knew better than to deign to speak to his opponent. It would only make it easier for Mystogaln to pinpoint his location in the twilight, and such an advantage to one so heavily reliant on distance attacks, to judge from the number of staff-like implements that was the hallmark of a spell-slinger, was a deadly one to surrender.

But the fact that he had stirred up a dust cloud on impact and opened up parley meant that he could get a visual lock. Immediately, his eyes began sizing up this contender. Taller than normal, meaning he probably weighed a good deal more than average as well, and would be easier to knock down from the right angle due to the raised center of gravity. The fact that he came down off of the top of the skeleton in such a flamboyant manner as an aerial somersault hinted at either a predilection for free running or perhaps magically augmented acrobatics, if not outright powers of flight. In short, his skill set wasn't unlike a cross between a war wizard and a second-story burglar.

Producing his hand crossbow in his left hand and expertly loading the first of his 10 bolts without taking his eyes off the caster, Darien carefully considered his first target. While the windpipe would be an ideal hit location to shut off verbal components as well as cause catastrophic damage that would be nigh impossible to recover from, the fact that Mystogaln had situated himself on the spine, and thus above him, meant he would have to set his sights a bit lower.

Yes...that would do nicely. Good blood flow, lots of muscles to damage that would hamper mundane movement, and the sheer humiliation factor, not to mention that pretty much the only way he was getting out of this was if he deliberately tumbled to the ground. Leveling his left arm at his target as he had done so many times before, both in practice and on the job, Darien pressed the trigger, sending the steel-tipped bolt at Mystogaln's left inner thigh. Ideally, the bolt would puncture the femoral artery in that region, resulting in death from blood loss within a minute, but he was too far away to guarantee that kind of precision. Still, a hit would give him an early leg up on the competition...pun totally intended.

No soon than he had tried to greet himself his opponent quickly went on the offense to start the fight as he fired a projectile from a crossbow aiming probably from his lower areas of his body which was ideal since being on the spine of the creature it set Mystogaln on a higher elevation. "Man every time,guys like him never learn" Mystogaln thinks to himself with a mischievous face as instantly his eyes turned black to the core while the bolt rushed at him "Shadow Master" quickly below evoking from Mystogaln shadow a group shadow black chain lines jumped from the dirt ground in front of their master, an like snakes rushed to meet impact 4 feet before reaching Mystogaln.

Upon collision the bolt shattered a few chains but was ineligibly was block then broken as shadow chains wrapped around it then tearing into strips of metal. Once the threat was taken out the shadows quickly recoiled to Mystogaln as he canceled the spell turning his eyes to normal. "So thats how you're going to play" seemingly ticked off a tad Mystogaln takes his mage staff and quickly starts to spin it within his hands.

Rotating fast like a windmill trapped within a storm the staff started to build streaks of ember as Mystogaln targeted in his enemy direction "Fiery Storm" as now a heavy barrage of fire balls starts blazing through the air toward the enemy with intense heat. To continue the barrage switches to spinning his one staff within his right hand as he starts to back up slowly to use his left to throw out his remaining three mage staffs on his back across the field to the left, right, and back of him with at least the 10 to 13 feet in each direction setting up the playing field if worst comes to worst, which will probably happen.

Darien frowned behind his mask as the crossbow bolt was blocked by chains manifested from the abundant shadows. Obviously, if he was going to kill this guy, he wasn't going to be able to do it from this range very easily, as anything he fired could be similarly stopped. Just as he was working on his next plan of attack, the fireballs started coming.

Evading the fiery blasts was nothing new to him. For one whose livelihood from an early age consisted of staying out of sight whenever possible and being maddeningly elusive when it wasn't, he had developed a sixth sense of where to step, jump, and duck to get out of the killing field. Once he got clear, he saw a curious thing behind Mystogaln: Three staffs arranged in a rough circle. He was never intimately familiar with the workings of magic, but he did know that those that relied on magic did love their staffs and wands. He promptly broke into a mad dash fueled by equal parts adrenaline and desperation over to the formation, weaving his way through the remains in the center in order to take the most direct route.

Making his way over to the staff Darien's opponent had thrown to his left, he wasted no time in laying his hands on it and pulling upwards to try to remove it from the ground. Should that prove successful, he would then attempt to break the implement in two across his thigh (if that failed, at least he would have another weapon for close-quarters combat). It was likely that he wouldn't have enough time to deprive the lunatic of all three sticks, but experience told him that a mage's staff was one of the most powerful and versatile offensive items people of that persuasion typically carried. Thus, breaking it would more likely than not cripple Mystogaln's spellcasting potential, and with his arsenal of ranged options so hampered, a smart warrior would close the distance to prevent further tomfoolery...which was what he was hoping for.

Darien continued to watch his opponent carefully, the staff having been pulled from its plant in the ground and currently being held parallel to the ground, ready to be broken in two. Here Darien decided it wouldn't be enough to hinder Mystique's casting potential; he needed to rub it in, as well.

"No wonder you threw this away when you were trying to barbecue me...this must be absolutely worthless to you. You could have come down and tried to stop me from destroying that which you cherished enough to take it into this fight with you, but apparently you like carrying dead weight with you. I guess you won't mind if I do this, then!"

With a level of strength and power unexpected from his lithe frame, he brought his right leg up and brought the staff down hard across the thigh, snapping it neatly in two with an audible crack. Darien was smarter than to throw the improvised hanbo away, though, cognizant of their potential as clubs or batons even though their magical potential was forever ruined. Plus, the jagged edges at the break point could cause someone to flinch if he thrust that end towards someone's face, not to mention there were times when power was preferable to precision.

Now, however, it was time to get this guy down off of his high horse--or his high skeleton, as the case may be. Darien carefully laid the half-staff in his right hand on the ground, only to replace it with a vial made of thick glass and decorated with abstract etchings, all while maintaining eye contact with his enemy. Given how his last ranged attack had been foiled, with the summoned chains erupting from nowhere and squeezing the bolt until it snapped in half, this was potentially costly if he did something else, so he decided to go the route he had followed since his childhood; that of duplicity and deceit.

"Hey, you, up top! I could dodge your fireballs all day, but I'm sure that's not what the folks at home are paying to watch. I got a little something for you that can make this fight more interesting. Ready or not, here it comes!" With an under-handed toss reminiscent of a father playing catch with his son, Darien lobbed the vial in a high arc towards his opponent, with the intention of him catching it. The vial contained a yellowish gas (the exact hue was almost impossible to divine due to the ambient lighting conditions) called "will worker's woe," which would rob a target of his mental faculties and commensurate spellcasting ability on mere exposure. Inhalation wasn't required, but it was a bonus. Additionally, the etching served a more practical purpose as well: This "breaker bottle" was designed to fly apart along the etched lines on verbal command, possibly causing a bit of physical damage as well.

Oh yes, things were going to get a lot more interesting if the wizard accepted this gift.

Mystogaln watched shockingly as his opponent boldly breaks one of his staff in his face then drops it to the ground like trash. The man said to him while breaking the staff "No wonder you threw this away when you were trying to barbecue me...this must be absolutely worthless to you. You could have come down and tried to stop me from destroying that which you cherished enough to take it into this fight with you, but apparently you like carrying dead weight with you. I guess you won't mind if I do this, then!" then making it worst with an insult following, "Hey, you, up top! I could dodge your fireballs all day, but I'm sure that's not what the folks at home are paying to watch. I got a little something for you that can make this fight more interesting. Ready or not, here it comes!". Standing still for a sec Mystogaln teeth grind and wrecked underneath his scarf as his grip on his mage staff tighten as now his opponent step over the bounds of respect and put his head on a platter.

"How dare you mock me, now you will suffer for your boasting ignorance!!"

Mystogaln acts with rage as he then took his staff in-hand and slammed it parallel into the ground."Doppelganger" quickly the four natural elements of earth, wind, water, and fire expelled from mystogaln in the form of orbs as they aligned horizontal to him, taking on his physical shape, form, and appearance they begin making exact copy's of their creator.Mystogaln seeing the opponent throw a strange vail towards as the last two earth and wind clones complete their forming of their body, Mystogaln looks with curiosity "So this your so called surprise" mystogaln catchs the vial in hand and signals the already formed fire doppelganger to come over an examine this small object.Looking inside the glass from the outside Mystogaln notices a yellow like chemical within it "Hmm, so is going to make the match interesting eh, so what make this so important to do so" mystogaln says to his opponent while he murmur to himself "There something strange about this vial..."
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post edited. 10/1/10 at 3:25(time unsure but close)
post edited. 10/2/10 at 2:18 pm

Darien was stunned for a moment as his spell-slinging opponent Mystogaln once again relied on his seemingly inexhaustible supply of mana to summon not one, but four copies of himself to handle the "gift" he had given him. Mystogaln's kind were all the same, really, hiding behind ramparts both raised and reinforced by magic and their most trusted associates being the ones they summoned through sheer force of will. In that moment of indecision, fear tried to strike its way into Darien's heart, but it was immediately beaten back by one of the dogmatic principles of basic training, that of processing information tactically. If circumstances did not permit the time to think about it, one was not to think about it.

Spore, came the command word from Darien's lips, and the vial exploded along the lines in its etching into its component shards, spreading both pointy objects and the toxic vapors into the vicinity which included Mystogaln and the clone foolish enough to be close enough to hand it to him, all the while temporarily dropping to one knee to load his hand crossbow, which he held in his left hand. The right hand, however, went for his boot dagger, which he liked to save for occasions such as this when the Point of No Return wasn't the right tool for the job. He knew what he had to do now, and no later, as time was of the essence.

Spurring his tired muscles into action once again, Darien sprinted at full speed, as if possessed by a will greater than his own, towards a space in the center of the cloud between Mystogaln and the hapless clone, holding his boot dagger in an "ice pick" grip such that the blade protruded from the side of his right hand away from the thumb. His pulse was pounding and he was practically gasping for precious oxygen behind his white porcelain mask, meaning a crossbow shot from any reasonable distance wouldn't guarantee a kill--which was why he wasn't counting on distance being his ally this time. As he reached the crucial location in the middle of the cloud, Darien struck savagely at the two bodies that were subjected to the deleterious effects of his fumes. To the elemental clone on the left, a crossbow shot aimed at the Adam's apple, and to Mystogaln himself on Darien's right, a vicious slash intended to lacerate the front of the throat, where such crucial things like the jugular vein, carotid artery, larynx and trachea were located.

Darien knew in this moment that he could not afford to fail. No...he would not fail, because he could not fail! There was only victory and those unable to walk the path towards it, and by his diabolic matron Korosatharis, he would prevail today!

Suddenly in front of his clone and him the vial burst sending small sharp into both of their hands as contents from the vial started to spread like cloud. "Tch, I knew it" mystogaln says, luckily his scarf around his neck cover his nose from directly breathing the perfume but this was the least of their worries. Dashing at great speed Mystogaln opponent meet in between him and the fire doppelganger trying to take advantage while it was at it's best. Luckily Mystogaln prepared for this type of situation a head of time as his trys to slash he neck cast his trump card "Substitute marking" instantly Myatogaln switches positions with one of his 10 feet away staff as his opponent slashes nothing but wood.

But unfortunately his fire doppelganger turned out not so luckly as his opponent bolt shoots straight through his neck, eyes rolling back the clone drops to its knees bursting into flames of its creation. Mystogaln looks at his hand an quickly shakes out the shards in his hand as he then grins at his opponent "You're good I'll give you that, but you are a 1000 years too earlier" like a ghost in the wind, the now fulling form water doppelganger jumps with palms open towards the opponent only being at least but 2 feet away from where Mystogaln switch places." Aqua prism" coming closer to the opponent the water clones hands and arms turns into pure water as it trys to trap the enemy within a a rapid current sphere of water and lift into air. If successful the sphere would moderately drain energy and air out of the victim and transfer to replenish Mystogaln.

Also completely formed,the wind and earth doppelgangers runs off a few feet behind the opponent to ensure to capture of the enemy and if the plan goes south with the opponent making a break for it.Still grinning from the predicament he as placed his opponent in, Mystogaln pulls out from within his cloak a strange long barrel revolver, rubbing his hands over the sides he keeps it to his side waiting to see his opponents action looking at his slightly wounded hand "Yup, maybe even a million years too early."

Darien scowled behind his mask as his dagger swipe only met the wood of another of Mystogaln's implements, which didn't have much trouble shortening it by a couple of inches. Not bad, considering its original purpose was to give this caster a haircut from the neck up. His crossbow shot fared a little better, finding its intended mark and causing the fire clone to reveal its true nature in its death throes. In what seemed like an instant, however, another copy was behind him, and the sound of flowing water was audible.

There was no time to think, merely to react. Utilizing the forward momentum accumulated in his charge, Darien dropped to the ground and rolled away from the water clone, nimbly avoiding the Aqua Prism attack. Kipping back to his feet, however, saw him confronted with a rather difficult situation: Four seemingly identical clones of his opponent, three of which seemed arrayed to block off a direct route to the fourth one behind them. Unfortunately for the one that had stepped forward to attack him, however, Darien knew how to save his best tricks for last.

Shadow, hide me! With those words, everything within 20 feet of Darien went black due to his activation of his Sphere of Shadows ability. Despite the lack of light in the radius, his infernal vision allowed him to see just as well as if under broad daylight, which under the circumstances made things seem brighter than the ambient conditions on this trash can of a planet. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust, but even as he shielded them with his left hand, his right hand dropped the boot dagger and drew his pride and joy: A rapier whose blade was alloyed with alchemical silver in such a way that it was ideally suited to piercing the hides of lycanthropes and denizens of the Lower Planes. Or, in Darien's own words, "the Point of No Return."

Mundane shadows required the coexistence of light and darkness to exist. This spell, however, actively negated most lights in its emanation, so there was almost no chance any of his opponents would see this coming. Two quick steps forward just like he was taught in fencing school, and the water clone that tried to attack Darien from behind would be met with an unforgiving and quick thrust to the chest. By this method, Darien planned to cut down the ranks of the summoned reinforcements until there was only Mystogaln remaining, which would hopefully engender a fear in his foe that would take the edge off of his magical talents and rob him of a certain degree of rationality.

As an assassin by trade, Darien was a hunter, and his prey was his fellow man. This particular specimen that called himself Mystogaln would make a fine addition to his collection of trophies from marks that actually managed to put up a fight.

This is the official write-up for QBsuperstar versus Total Brave.

This judgment write-up will encompass several areas, including Tactics, Grammar, Description, and Character Presence. Each of these sections are capable of giving points on a five point scale, making a total of 20 points available for each player. The player at the end of this write-up with the most points, wins the fight. Simple as that. Should a tie result, however, another round of posting will begin and then that section will be judged, deciding the victor of the fight.

It's a fairly simple judging style, and should be comprehensive for all who read it to understand. That being said, let's begin:

Total Brave Post 1:

Along the edge of the Great Kyrvktz bog there was a massive hole filled with the aura of death and misfortune as Mystogaln within the middle of a large skeleton of a fierce creature stood taking in his surroundings after being teleported for the match at hand.

This is a massive, even gargantuan, run on sentence. Until you get to the period, there is no form of punctuation even present. This, in an of itself, is a massive mistake in the grammar section.

Walking along the dirt sand under him and the blazing sky above with he watched as sand was blown across his sapphire hair and white scarf covering his lower part of his face and mouth.

Another run on sentence, and a few other remarkable mistakes. You say in this section "dirt sand". That makes no sense. Sand is sand, and dirt is dirt. There is a few major differences between the two, including texture and clumping. Sand doesn't often clump, and is usually in the form of grains, while dirt can be clumped together, and is more solid on the ground than sand.

The part referencing your scarf will become all the more important later on.

"Hermes Wind" suddenly from under mystogaln a heavy force of wind sends him skying into the air as though he had wings and he made all the way to the above and beast balancing his feet on the tip of the rip as he at least gotten blown 30 feet high looking upon the canvas of the area.

Yet another run on sentence, and yet another multitude of grammatical mistakes that will end up costing you points in the end. I won't go through this entire thing, pointing out every single mistake you made. Frankly, I don't have the time for that. However, I will point out that the term you should have used in this section was "flying" not "skying". Skying is not a word, in any way. When writing a post, TB, I would suggest you do the work in Microsoft Word, or another -- similar -- word processor, so that you can be shown the errors you make and have a chance to fix them.

However, you didn't do a HORRIBLE job of entrancing the area. You used what you had at your disposal to gain what could, eventually, be seen as a dominant position.

Points for TB Post 1:

Tactics: 4
Grammar: 0
Description: 2
Character Presence: 4
Total: 10

QBsuperstar post 1:

It mattered not to him, though; he was an assassin, not an archaeologist.

So, I'm not comfortable with the way you used the semi-colon, QB. I'm not 100% sure you used it wrongly, or even in the wrong place, it's just something I'm comfortable with seeing in that location.

The perpetual twilight of the plane made detecting his enemy difficult, even if the two of them were confined to the central region of the depression with the skeleton in it, a grim reminder to both of a very real possibility for the loser.

I think you should have split that into two separate sentences. It would have increased the flow of your posting, and made the writing much better.

Over-all, QB, your post has few mistakes. And none of them are truly remarkable, uncommon mistakes. I think that, in this case, some of the mistake I see might be more to a personal preference of writing rather than any actual grammatical error.

You use what you can to be tactically sound. Listening and watching for any sign of a threat already in the area, as well as the threat of your opponent. Good show, old chap.

Points for QB Post 1:

Tactics: 4
Grammar: 4
Description: 3
Character Presence: 3
Total: 14

Total Brave post 2

From afar within Mystogaln gazes sees an moving structure moving along the skeleton as he had watched predicting that his opponent has now arrived.

This sentence makes absolutely no sense. You can't 'gaze from afar' within. Nothing about this pale excuse for a sentence makes sense. Again, I suggest you use a word processor to search for your mistakes in your writing.

Wiping off his cloak Mystogaln starts to walk along the spine of the great beast again to try a greet himself to his opposition and to get a better physical description of him to see how rough an opponent he'll have in this match.

Another ungodly run-on sentence. A specifically horrid part of this sentence is "try a greet". So far, you have a good tactical mind, not the best, but decent enough for this juncture of your career.

Before long within the distance he from somewhat afar his proved to be considerably tall in stature and worn a strange white mask on his covering his true face which he finds not all that weird of what he was wearing himself. Still with one of his mage staff out in his right hand Mystogaln waves from the distance hoping his target would see as he murmur to himself again, "Hmmm should I really be showing of kindness to a person I'll be trying to kill, oh well", Mystogaln suddenly feeling dumb about himself for a moment just couldn't help but put a grin across his face cause after the greeting there will be no smiling faces to look upon.

This entire section is...for lack of a better term...bad. The writing in it is nowhere near what I would consider acceptable. I assumed that, by joining the tournament itself, you were agreeing to a degree of aptitude. I apologize for overly insulting you, I don't mean to, but I find it hard to go through your posts without taking long pauses. That being said, I'll try to refrain from saying anything that could be too offensive for the remainder of this write-up, at the same time I'll be more concise and condense each post into a single paragraph's worth of comments.

TB Post 2 Points:

Tactics: 3
Grammar:1
Description:1
C.P: 1
Total: 6

QB post 2:

Good tactics in not responding to him because of the way he could find you with your voice. Good post, all around. Grammar is decent, you keep well to the character described in the profile. I like the fact that you know your crossbow weapon and plan to use it effectively. Most people are lax when it comes to ranged weapons, afraid to use them and what not. I like that you're not. Out of the norm factors always win points with me.

QB post 2 Points:

Tactics: 3
Grammar: 4
Description: 4
C.P: 4

I'll cut out the whole post-by-post commentary now, and just give the feelings on the rest of the fight.

Throughout the entire thing, both characters display decent tactics. However, QB's writing, description, and c.p are continuously above TB's own. TB constantly falls into the peril of run-on sentences, and at one point even breaks the rules of T1 fighting as a whole.

Furthermore, when I mentioned that the part about the scarf would become important later on, I meant it. The scarf as described, TB, only covers your mouth and neck. Your posts and profile give no reason for me to see your character as anything other than a powerful human being, meaning he still breaths primarily through his nose. Because of this, covering your mouth would do nothing for the poisonous vapors that would inherently be brought through your nostrils into your blood-stream. That alone would make you fall victim to QB's poison anyway, and given that you're behind in points all throughout this fight, I declare the winner:

QBsuperstar03!

The point totals -- had I done the post-by-post for the entire fight -- would come out around:

QB: 115
to
TB: 45

Overall, QB has out-written you, used better tactics (kudos on the poison vial and use of doublespeak btw, QB), and had a better descriptive factor than you throughout the entire fight.

Therefore, QB is awarded the win, and moves on to Round 2.

Good fight, both of you.