Colosseum Results

[Storyteller]

Okor v Bandit With No Name

Bandit

"Description and Clarity:4

It didn’t seem to matter how many times she’d put it back together, remaking the garment out of bullet holes and blood stains, there was always a bit of sand in it. It was part of how she saw herself; part of who she was.

You had a strong start, but I didn’t really feel like this part was necessary especially at the beginning/ in the first paragraph, the main reason, because it didn’t tell us - the reader - how to feel about the bullet holes or sand. Its just a straightforward fact with little feeling. If someone were to not know where bandit was coming from, it would be a little off-putting and I wasn’t sure what I should be taking away from it.

The bandit snatched a long spear from the rack, twirling it into her hand and cocking it back. She stepped forward twice and lobbed the weapon as hard as she could, stumbling to her knees after it left her fingertips. The shaft soared over the field, the feathers and baubles whistling as it cut through the air. The spear entered the traitor’s body with the crack of his armor and a wet slorp, the tribal weapon burying itself halfway up the haft.

this was very clear and kept an action concise as well as easy to visualize. The word choice is also vivid and varied.

Crack. Slorp. He lumbered forward, heedless.

Another. Still, he marched. Another. Unfaltering, dauntless.

Inevitable.

this part was rapid, and erased some of the ‘excess’ information. The first thing people would realize when watching is precisely what you described.

He had made it halfway across the “city” and she could now see the swirling aura of flies that surrounded him. She squinted as the doddering ancient plucked one of the shafts from his chest and tossed aside, allowing him to retrieve his bolter unimpeded.

so far it sounds great but I am expecting to see a bit more life/passion as I read.

Relish in the suffering…” he groaned while she feebly thrashed against him, “… that Grandfather endows upon us.”

Relish isn’t a word I would imagine okor saying, so I wasn’t a huge fan of this particular line of dialogue, but, I still liked what you were trying to do with it.

She had felt the chill hand of death,

“chill” while I don’t see it as grammatically incorrect, may have sounded better as “chilled” preference though, perhaps.

She hated it.

Fresh rage billowed up from her gut, surging through her, willing her fragile body to move. She urged her numb fingers, demanded action of her stiffening limbs. She defied that stillness which she so wholly despised and opened her eyes once again.

The bandit was going to die. But not yet.

I liked that this part was broken up, it was staunchly consistent, and bolder than the style of the above, but didn’t discredit strength and word choice. It also displayed consequence.


Final thoughts: In this category, you ranked very high, because your thoughts were well conveyed throughout the ENTIRE fight.

Voice: 5

The bandit made note of the eerie green light that shined from within, glinting from the strings of teeth that drooped from its exterior. She leapt from the rooftop to an adjacent building just as the bolter vomited a fist-sized round, screaming past by mere feet. When the shot bit into the stone beside her, it detonated and cast steel splinters in every direction. Tiny shards of the projectile peppered the woman’s flank, though it was barely more than a sting.

I placed this excerpt in this category because I thought it clearly conveyed your voice, detailed and personifying objects with life.

The filth-encrusted blade danced over the surface of her light armor before it bit into the exposed flesh below her collarbone. The rusted blade more hacked than cut and the wound’s ragged edges became packed deep with effluence. The wound was more shallow than the pestilent champion had intended, but he still grinned as the woman doubled over in pain.

Okor lifted his blade, ready to cleave into his prey once again, his breath wheezing with excitement. Her dreads whipped as she lifted her head, a wild look of ferocity etched into her features. She jerked up the haft of the oversized mallet, and his attack skittered off of it with the yelp of steel-on-steel and a shower of sparks.

Another wonderful example of your wonderful voice and writing style.

The bandit was going to die.

She had felt the chill hand of death, and she remembered its caress more clearly than any other. The fever that carved at her bones. The tremors that rushed over her spine. The dull ache that pounded over her entire body, accentuated by the sharp twangs of agony that drove into her, like railroad spikes left in the desert heat.

solid

Final thoughts: I’m a big fan of your writing, and I think that almost 95 percent of this battle was some of your best work. You had an edge in this category over your opponent.

Character:4

Just like the long, bloody streak that ran down her chest. Her finger mindlessly played with the hole where Roland had almost killed her, and where that red bastard actually did.

This part was cool if people knew what this past part meant, however, if someone hadn’t read that thread, they may not know of the depth of the story to that, and I wasn’t sure to take it as an easter egg type thing, because you included it I felt like you thought/wanted it to be important, however, when something like this is included, make sure your full point conveys across to the reader. That’s really important.

Pursing her lips in frustration, the skull-faced woman pulled the massive hammer from the straps that held it on her back and cranked on the throttle, flames spitting from the exhaust. “I got something for you too, pal,” she shouted from the top of the building, looking down upon him. “Come and get some, punk-ass.”

the image of badassery

Smirking, she pulled her rifle from her shoulder strap and leveled it at the back of the marine’s helmeted head. “Let’s see about that broken jaw you were talking about,” she mocked through a sneer, her finger toying with the trigger.

strong impression

She laughed gently to herself, ignoring the man that would like be her executioner. “You’re made, by a Prime, or a God, or plain old birth.” The dirt ran out of her palm, and the last pebble tumbled to the ground. “Then you die. Maybe of old age, maybe a bullet to the brain, maybe cause some weirdo with a fetish for venereal diseases bashes your skull in.”

compelling and... probably offensive to okor :C

Final thoughts: Bandit was really strong and compelling throughout the ENTIRE fight. Okor and Bandit’s dynamic was a littttleee strange, but it worked, and I liked it. It felt as though you both were really close in this category. As for bandit, I don’t know how I would suggest you to better her. She really seems like she’s her best no matter the circumstances.

Story: 4.5

Her vision wobbled and jerked as he saw the twisted king of filth slowly push himself to his feet, a puddle of muck left below him. She weakly struggled as his massive body moved in upon hers, and he snatched her up by the throat. Gagging, the woman’s eyes opened wide, red veins creeping in from the corners. She bared her teeth, spittle frothing forth as she struggled for air.

This was four lines, but it was truly stunning and wonderfully written.

The woman fell to the ground, coughing and choking as Okor stumbled backwards until he crashed through a nearby display of previously fresh fruit. Sucking down a gulp of air, the bandit noticed that the stench had somehow intensified. Looking to the now bare-headed foe, she immediately turned her head and evacuated the hot dog and three beers she’d had for lunch.

The man’s flesh was a horror to behold, twisting maggots crawling through it, black teeth, and an eye socket so overwhelmingly consumed by decay

I could really... visualize this part, and I felt like it strengthened not only the contrast between characters, but solidified certain ideals and symbolism that could be inferred from the two characters.

Pressing her hand into her side, a bright white light shined from within her, gently pushing the irradiated shards of his bolter rounds from her side. She took a deep breath, pushed her woozy legs out from beneath her, and lifted her rifle.

really strong (almost) ending to your second post.

The bandit was going to die.

strong way to start off your third post, and it set a mood.

Her vision warped and bent like air over the dunes, and once again she felt hateful eye of the sun upon her. Blood pounded in her ears and her fingers wandered to the ragged hole that had been torn in her chest. “You have forgotten the face of your father,” she heard him say, Roland’s rough voice distorted by her delirium. She heard the timpani of her heart gently dull in its pounding, the rhythm slowing more and more until the darkness devoured her.

compelling

“Let go?” she croaked, her quivering hand sliding into the dirt, grasping at the very earth itself. She shook as she rolled to the side and even as she felt his bolter being leveled at her, she heaved herself up to her knees. “I don’t think I can,” she confessed, watching the soil slide between her fingers.

“Do you feel that?” she growled, the sound of his bones breaking crackling as she slid it over her ribs, “Those are my scars. I earned every one of them.”

The marine slid his slimy hand away, pushing on her face. “We’re born, we die!” she screamed between his fingers....
“Without it, you’re just another dead man.”

strong last words too. You really dominated the story aspect of this fight

Final thoughts: You aced this category and I felt like you did slightly better than your competitor because I felt the impact was stronger on the reader, due to multiple reasons. These reasons have to do with relation and clarity, but also just how coherent the plot was to follow, and how compelling it was.


Grammar and Spelling: 4.5

Running his gauntleted hand over the blackened surface of a skull,

banditisfemale

”Ah,” he rasped, “the impertinence…” again he was forced to pause and suck down another sickly breath, “of youth.”

You can capitalize “The” and “Of” but I do not believe it is mandatory when used in a continued/broken sentence like this.

Other than the above, I didn’t notice ANYTHING wrong. So you got almost a perfect score in this category.


TS: 22



Okor

"Description and Clarity:4

"No, seriously. What in Diablo's Fiery Fuck-pits is wrong with you?" Prompted the woman, hefting their hammer for another crushing blow. "Want a... List?" Joked the pestilential giant, swinging his oxidized weapon at her unarmoured thigh.

When speaking and responding, while I know it is your style to use larger paragraphs, it is more... clear if the paragraph is changed to reflect a different speaker/perspective.

the woman leveled an unfamiliar weapon at him, a manic grin plastering itself across her painted face matching the skull hanging on Okor's armoured hip. She screamed out a warcry, the meaning of which was unknown to Nurgle's Chosen: "Garbage Day, bitch!" An arc of crimson energy burnt through his corroded breastplate, incinerated the pallid flesh beneath, and scorched the stone wall behind him. He looked down at the charred crater in his chest, putrid black smoke rising from the hole where his heart once was.

This part was wonderfully described.

While Okor was curious to see how long it would take for his gifts to heal him, a reminder of Nurgle's pervasive touch, the Bandit was merely waiting for her opponent to collapse after her killing blow. To her surprise, the gangrenous giant propelled his malformed skull forward, cracking it against her comparatively fragile face, a spray of blood and bone rewarding him for his efforts as her nose broke under his assault.

this conversion of narration was gentle, and while it was within a paragraph, I thought it was nicely done, and flowed well.

A vermillion streak scorched across the marine’s exposed face, flesh and skin turning to ash in its wake. His opponent was far stronger than he had anticipated.

I’m not sure if the extra ‘had’ does much for you in this sentence, but if you took it out, I feel like it would still be grammatically correct

Blow upon blow rained down upon his gelatinous frame, splintering the cobbles beneath, fragments of pavement embedding themselves in her worn knuckles. In her frenzy born of a myriad of maladies assailing her mind, she continued her assault, oblivious to the slow slithering of the chosen’s effluent mass, his pestilential matter slowly accumulating behind her.

Final thoughts: You and bandit were both on par in this category. Your middle post was a little jumbled my first read through though it may be because of the bolds, my brain really didn’t like sifting. You finished very strong in this category.

Voice:4.5

Snarling, Okor stood, his blade lodged in the leg of a market stall. A string of expletives streamed from the bandit's painted mouth as she scrabbled across the cobblestones, dragging her hammer into one of the back alleys that suffused the arena. Tearing his trusted weapon from its prison of wood, he shambled after his elusive foe, the sound of her footsteps long gone. He snapped the spear shafts protruding from his torso as he mulled over recent events. Why would they run? This was the culmination of dozens of battles, a slaughter that had drawn hundreds, if not thousands to watch.

this part had perfect finesse.

Spat Okor, the tendons in his jaw clearly visible and burnt, their blackness matching the infectious abyss of his mouth. His pistol howled, a corroded shell falling to the stone as he advanced forward.

This part is really small, but I greatly enjoyed it.

He gurgled, gesturing with a singed claw towards the ragged gash on her torso, blackened veins pulsing with every gradually slowing beat of her heart. “F-fuck you, you Omni-damned bastard.” She stammered, the poison spreading through her veins, sapping her essence. Booming laughter emanated from the disgusting maw set in the ravaged face of the plague marine.

this was such cool imagery

Booming laughter flowed from the desecrated abyss of the ancient warrior’s shattered jaw, splintered remnants of teeth joining the corrosive spittle seeping from his ravaged maw. His stomach split, flesh and skin tearing itself apart to reveal ever-hungry teeth, eagerly sinking yellowed fangs into the scarred flesh of the bandit, rending calloused skin in an uncontrolled frenzy of long-repressed hunger. Winding tendrils of a digestive system no longer able to be sustained on anything save the capricious eddies of the immaterium ensnared her hardened limbs, pulling her deeper into his ravenous chasm. She sunk deeper and deeper into the abyss into which all ends, to be consumed and reprocessed, remade in a form more pleasing to the Lord of All.

THIS is what I was waiting for. I love this kind of thing, and I love how your style just wants to say it. I felt like you kind of had a harder start, and struggled a bit with certain aspects of your posts, maybe it was the interaction with bandit, or something else, but this kind of thing right here is really just amazing, and my favorite thing about your writing is definitely your style and word choice.

In the future, you’ll want to make it a consistency, because there were times it felt a bit scrambled. Which impacted both positively and iffily, the development of action and story and drama.

Final thoughts: Bandit and you both did really well in this category. Bandit got a really good score, and I felt like you did just as good, she had just about a hair over you, but you both did very nicely. Your voice was steady, and I really like it when you go into what I call “Okor mode.”

Character: 3

The two paused for a moment, staring at the environmental devastation wrought by Okor's misguided attacks. "One eye's a bitch for depth perception, huh?" Joked the painted warrior, dried blood adorning her pale facade. His corroded gauntlet went to the blade on his hip. "It can be a... challenge at times." He admitted, beginning to draw his pestilent weapon free, murmuring dark benedictions under his toxic breath. Foul effluence ran along its length, as he swung it in a diagonal slash towards the foe's face.

Your banter while limited (in a good way) was amusing.

While I saw what you were trying to do with Okor, and the bandit, I wasn’t as compelled by him as I would have wanted (and, excuse me for referencing, by comparison to your previous fights,) work on establishing the same connection with your readers. I wasn’t going to take off for some things you did one fight really well, and the next the dynamic was completely different, but I felt like during this battle, Bandit had my favor with a stronger story and a bit better of an established character in my mind.

Final thoughts: This was not my favorite category for your character this round. I felt like bandit had a decent edge on you, and while I felt Okor started out tremendous, I felt like during the middle it got a little “wobbly” and this registered to me as slightly inconsistent. Keep describing Okor your best, because he is an awesome character, and I truly love reading him, and the way you describe him.

Story: 4

The warrior glared at him from a crude pair of iron sights, crackling coronas of energy arcing from their weapon. "Shot you through the damn heart. The underverse does it take to put you down?" They spat, blood streaming from the ruins of their nose, crimson staining the stark white warpaint. "Speaking from... experience, two high-explosive rockets at short range, amputation and... the removal of my jaw." Laughed Okor, lifting his bolter to the slowly regenerating chasm in his chest. "Shi-"

The howl of the bolter cut off the rest of her sentence, a shell borne aloft on flame screaming past her ear. "Fu-" She twisted past another death-dealing missile. "Omni dam-" A spray of dust and fragments pelted her from behind as another round detonated against the masonry. "Motherf-"

this was taken from your round 1 post, I felt like you did really well and helped carry the story.

There was no such theatricality here, nothing more than pure and simple violence. A woman after my own hearts. His blessed flesh faltered under her onslaught, parasites that had walked with him for centuries annihilated.

WHAT IS THIS DEVELOPMENT - but seriously, it was actually nice to hear a little inner thought from okor, seeing how he is faced with this great challenge.

”He’s already within… you. Every spasm of your heart spreads his touch further.” He took a step closer to the disarmed woman, a maggot burrowing out from his necrotized face, pushing aside charred flesh in its endless hunger. ”Don’t you want… this?” The response he got was a derisive laugh, echoing around the narrow streets. “Why the f-flying fuck would I want your nasty-ass necrosis?”

While I really liked the way you mentioned the danger infecting bandit, initially I wasn’t quite sure how to take the sudden large amount of dialogue in the post that followed.

Our most… precious resource, and yet discarded like spent ammunition. The people do not need a hero, storming out of the mists to rescue them from the weekly monster. I offer them… salvation.”

but I thought what okor said definitely had purpose. In the future I would’ve liked to see a bit more working up to it. Like, bandit saying “i’m no secondary!” or something. Bandit, was infact, once a secondary, and I think that could have been played on in this context.

His single eye blinked, pus encrusting its diseased lid. His devotional tabard flapped in the slight breeze, the sigil emblazoned upon it seeming to pulse in time with the bandit’s heatbeat, resonating with the maladies afflicting her. ”You no longer need to walk alone, Warrior. Join with… us. Accept your death, and you will find it will never come. An eternity to raise hell, to make this realm… right. To make its people safe, to elevate them.” Her eyes, becoming tinged with fever, darted around, glancing at her fallen weapon, the vulnerable form of her opponent, and the simple rune that called out to her, whispered promises and affirmations of adoration to her corrupted blood. ”All you need to do… Is let go. Rot, and be reborn. Spread his blessings, taint the wells, save the… world.” He stopped, the cyclopean eye set in the center of his mutated skull watching the spread of disease in the bandit’s body with interest. The pathogen’s efforts were stymied, halted by her impressive physique. If she would only stop fighting…

this part was possibly the most strong, and I felt like it demanded to be heard. The point was a bit inferred, but that was nice, because while I could take it as y’know, temptation, I felt like Okor was trying to tell the reader something too. Without the top part of this paragraph, I would’ve felt like the substance was lacking. Be careful that your dialogue doesn’t seem scattered. we want it to seem collected.

Their two disparate blows connected. Splintered wood tore into the plague marine’s throat, ripping apart his esophagus, scratching his reinforced spinal column as it twisted and turned, rending and ripping infected flesh in its quest for death. At the same instant, a septic dagger plunged into her gut, its toxic payload spreading into her already-corrupted bloodstream, while the savage construction of the weapon itself embedded itself in her entrails. They stood there in a shared embrace of impalement, the constant worrying of her makeshift weapon nullifying his rampant regeneration.

Ragged remnants of entrails fell from her muscled frame, grinning as the fever began to enter her eyes, streaks and flecks of her own infected vitae infiltrating her vitreous humours. She cocked back a bloodied fist, preparing to drive it into the eternally grinning visage of the plague marine. It did so, careening into his rotten face, a wet squelch emanating from the impact. Putrescent slime dripped from her fist, new bloody momentos carved upon it by the unyielding stone beneath the liquified form of Okor.

You still fight.” He rasped, the instrument of murder obstructing his trachea no more an impediment than the cysts and phlegm his voice forced its way through routinely. ”His essence… suffuses you. You say that life is struggle? That it is pain?” His chuckle was stilled by the pointed obstruction, emerging as a hacking, bloody cough. ”What you suffer is what I… survive every moment. Every torment inflicted upon the faithful is insubstantial, for.. Grandfather shields us. We rot so that their blades can no longer hurt us.”

a small blip about grandfather (though I vaguely remember it) may have helped my comprehension and impact of this a little. THE READERSSS- anyway, even without it, I thought this part came off with great success. There were certain aspects I felt like were a little off-balance (mentioned above) but I still liked the overall plot.

Final thoughts: You were at just about a tie with your opponent in this round. I felt like the story was predominantly there, but not ideally, well crafted. I felt like the story revolved a lot around bandit (which is what happened during my fight with her/him) and I felt about the same thing happened in this fight. Putting that fact aside, I felt like Okor was compelling, and the story you guys created was good, but it felt really dependent on Bandit.


Grammar and Spelling: 2

”Enough.” Spat Okor, the tendons in his jaw clearly visible and burnt, their blackness matching the infectious abyss of his mouth. His pistol howled, a corroded shell falling to the stone as he advanced forward.

I feel your pain for that b right there m8

The green flames of the alchemical inferno died away, leaving the woman gasping in pain as she clutched her ravaged limb. [b]”You still resist his embrace.”

Perhaps 3 of our number. The secondaries are feeble, mortal, finite.

[/quote] writing out “three” comes off much better/more fluent to the reader.

You’ll see in this category you scored rather low. And I don’t like giving out scores that subtract points so drastically, but the QF’s call for me to be a little bit more harsh on all the categories, and I think the bold mishap was a bit off setting, as well as could have been prevented with a preview button. Had the post been more last minute, while I may not have been more lenient, I think that I could understand the need for the haste. Also note that it was just [b]one post that you kind of had some faults with, so I took that into consideration before ruling my final score in this category.

TS: 17.5