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Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Just have to stay before the authors of these start rolling around in the dirt and pulling each other's hair, I really just appreciate that they both showed up in a timely manner! The theme was 'a chosen hero', fantasy. (And just a reminder, there are two more duel threads being voted on now.)

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
The golden hero He knew this prophecy all too well, but he had never thought that he will be the one whose fate of the kingdom rested on his hands. After picking up his staff he headed to his first and final opponent. The last words of his teacher rang with each step in his head. “When the last shaman of Euphrates enters the capital, a city will fall and a golden age will be sown. The golden hero will then be known.” This mess had all started the moment his dear teacher let out his last breath. At first the overwhelming hurt overshadowed every rational thought in Mathis’ mind, but with each passing year this pain grew weaker as a certain numbness slowly settled in. With his dear teacher and his sole companion gone, he traveled aimlessly from one place to the other, not even bothering to check their names on the map. With his magic skills he made enough money to eat and sleep in some crummy hostel and to catch the next train if he was lucky. Mathis usually took the Eastern line, but after he had read in the papers that the neighboring country Tigris had bombed the main train station of that region, he decided to hop on the Western line instead. Perhaps a change of scenery would do his mind some good. Maybe he will at last be able to smell the scent of fresh grass or taste food that isn’t some formless shrub. Ever since he had left his teacher’s house, he had seen nothing but an endless span of desolate wastelands. So Mathis couldn’t help but be a little excited for the new things to come with this chance of plans. Well, he should have scolded himself for letting his hopes up. Although the city he arrived in was bigger than anything he had ever seen, his optimism got crushed when he witnessed the sickening smell of feces and rot coupled with the nauseous amount of smog spewing from the many factories in the area. The drab houses and the inhabitants’ gaunt and wary faces, only soured his mood even further. Mathis sighed as he aimlessly wandered from one street to the other. He should find a quick and dirty job and get out of this congregated pile of misery as soon as possible. Wallowing in his own disappointment, he bumped into someone, a young man around his age. Although he was dressed in fine clothing suited for a nobleman, his sunken cheeks and yellowed skin was more befitting to a factory worker. Just when he was about to exchange some firm words with him, he found himself dragged into an alleyway and pressed against the wall. “Please be silent for a moment,” the young man said while he pointedly looked behind his back. His thin body trembled. Mathis saw that the man’s eyes were directed at the guards passing though the main streets. As the distance between them increased, their once loud voices quieted. The young man let go of Mathis. His furrowed brows quickly morphed into a cheery smile. “Pardon me for my manners, but I’m grateful for your cooperation. The guards are getting better with each passing day. If you want a reward, please don’t be afraid to ask.” “Who in the name of Euphrates’ sickle are you?” “A mere street urchin struggling to survive in the harsh streets of the capital.” If it weren’t for his smirk and clothes, the act would almost be convincing. “Drop the act,” Mathis said. His eyes bore daggers at him. The man waved it off with a shrug. “It’s a pity that a traveler like you isn’t this naïve. My name’s Victor, I take residence in the capital’s palace.” “Why is your ass then in a place like this?” Victor halfheartedly gestured at his body. It was a wonder that the young man was able to move at all. “There aren’t any doctors who are able to cure my condition. I thought-“ Victor trailed off. His eyes got a wistful glint to them, a look Mathis was painfully familiar with. Discarding all his teacher’s stern lectures, Mathis took Victor’s hands in the spur of the moment. He closed his eyes as he poured his magic from his fingertips. It had been so long since he had used this technique. However, his inexperience didn’t deter him from locating the illness in the body. The main culprit turned out to be the liver. The familiar words of his teacher’s healing spell easily escaped from his lips. His eyes then opened. Slivers of green light soon dissipated while a rosy color returned to Victor’s skin. The boy looked at him with pure astonishment, his hands kept holding Mathis tightly as if he was his last lifeline. “Healing magic, you used healing magic. I thought- So you’re really a shaman?” “Don’t tell this to anyone, don’t want any trouble.” Mathis tried to pry his hands off him, but his attempt only strengthened Victor’s grip. His eyes sparkled under the glow of the setting sun. “Please tell me your name. It would be a shame if I didn’t know what my friend is called.” “Fr-Friend?” Heat crept up his cheeks. Wasn’t this all going a bit too fast? However, his heart swelled upon seeing Victor’s smile. Friend, a word so unfamiliar yet so wanted. “I’d like to know you better. Aren’t you traveling alone? Come with me if you want a place to stay,” Victor said. “The only payment is your name.” “How good is the food?” “To die for.” “Mathis, my teacher named me Mathis.” With a warm handshake and a brief exchange of smiles, a new bond had been forged. With Victor’s hand gently guiding him, Mathis came to know an entire different side of Euphrates’ capital. The food served in the gargantuan palace tasted beyond acceptable, the colors draping the furniture bombarded his eyes with vibrancy and the sheer size of the rooms left him shy of disbelief. After seeing how the guards treated Victor with utter reverence and how the king’s brother addressed him with a frosty politeness, it soon dawned on Mathis that his first friend wasn’t any regular nobleman, but the crown prince. Life in the court of Euphrates turned out to be just as isolating and dull as when he was hopping from station to station. However, this time around, he had someone by his side, his own golden hero. Despite Victor’s busy schedule, he always found time to chat up with Mathis. His own chest heated up whenever he smiled at him. His mere presence bathed his days with a shimmering golden light. However, this tranquil peace didn’t last long when news broke out that the aging king had died, leaving only Victor as the sole heir behind. An inevitable outcome though too soon for many. There was sadly no time for his friend to grieve. The day after the funeral, tragedy struck once again, when Mathis found Victor’s limb body lying in his bedchambers, barely clinging onto life. His hands trembled as time slowed down for him. After taking a glance at the half-eaten bowl of grapes on the table, he knew that the cause wasn’t an innocent illness, but a nefarious plot. Biting down the urge to panic, Mathis immediately started to prepare his spell. He gently cradled his dear friend’s cheeks and flooded the veins with magical energy. Concentration was the key and time wasn’t on his side. He couldn’t afford to stumble, to lose him. The poison wasn’t completely expelled, but his magic had at least halted its most harmful effects. His lips quivered. He didn’t want to return to the emptiness of the rail, not when he had someone else to live for. Just as his tears trickled down his cheeks and all hope had left Mathis’ heart, Victor opened his eyes. His hands soon clumsily clung onto him, his head rested on the crook of his shoulder. “I thought that Euphrates and my people- I thought that I had failed them,” He whispered. “Their welfare and livelihood will all depend on a weakling like me. I haven’t even considered the war against Tigris.” Mathis stroke Victor’s back, which trembled under his touch. It had been a long time since he saw his golden hero this small. There must be a way to ease his friend’s worries. Then his teacher’s words had at last dawned on him, the same old words that had for many years laid untrodden. “My teacher once had told me about prophecy. When the last shaman of Euphrates enters the capital, a city will fall and a golden age will be sown. The golden hero will then be known.” Mathis carded his hair, his touch remained featherlight. “Every prediction of him had come true. You’ll be a great king, don’t worry.” A calming silence had placed a spell on them. When the last slivers of daylight had burnt out, Mathis heard soft words escaping from Victor’s lips, breaking the unspoken law of their fragile peace. “The last shaman, there might be more.” Thus, with the arriving dawn, the warm persona of the young prince had quietly left to be replaced with a cold feverish fervor. The following day Mathis’ dear friend had ordered the execution of his own uncle. After Mathis saw the head tumbling off the chopping block, Victor took his hand and squeezed it. A sliver of his former self was seen in the wetness of his eyes. “Will you please stay by my side?” Mathis squeezed back. “I will.” How could he refuse? After this incident, coups and purges became a common sight in the palace grounds. Then came the hunt of every last mage residing in the kingdom. It started with the capital, then the smaller cities and at last the distant countryside. Victor wouldn’t explain his actions to him, but he somehow knew that it was related to the words Victor had whispered to him that night. There was not much difference between a mage and a shaman after all. After the last mage had been beheaded, Victor asked him that certain question again. “Will you please stay by my side?” It had always been these words. He knew how to reply. There was a time where his resolve had wavered, but every time he had pushed these intruding thoughts away. It was better to not think too much, to keep up this hazy dream of his. “I will.” He only had to say these two words. With the disappearance of magic in Euphrates’ armed forces, the kingdom became weak against Tigris’ attacks. The palace advisors reported more losses than wins with every passing month. Victor ignored their advice and continued ordering his men to an early grave. After another province had fallen, Victor invited him to his bedroom one quiet night. He asked Mathis whether he could design a more potent weapon. “What are you planning?” “A gas which burns the victim’s lungs and veins. Please make its natural odor something soothing, like the scent of fresh grass. Could you do that for me?” Mathis found that he couldn’t answer him. The scent of fresh grass. The more these words lingered in his thoughts, the more he found the strength to escape this dreamlike state of complacency. A cold shiver ran through his body. This needless bloodshed had to end. “Will you please stay by my side?” Victor’s proposal was so alluring, so easy to accept, but he finally pulled away the clouds that blinded his eyes to see his friend for what he truly was. A shadow of the golden hero he once was. Mathis shook his head. “I’m sorry, I cannot.” “So even you are conspiring against me? I thought that you were different.” His words cut like daggers. “Shall I chop off your head or whip you to submission?” “One battle between you and me, that’s my price.” “I see, then I’ll meet you tomorrow in the ballroom,” Victor said. “Beware, the prophecy is in my favor.” “When the last shaman of Euphrates enters the capital, a city will fall and a golden age will be sown. The golden hero will then be known.” These words echoed continuously in his head as he waited for the morning to come. He wryly smiled. During his entire life, he had never fought someone before. Now, the outcome of the future rested on the skills he had never bothered to nurture. When he entered the ballroom, Victor was already there, all alone with only a sword by his side. There was no need to exchange any pleasantries as they both dived into the quiet battlefield. The heavy steel of victor’s blade viciously slashed into his skin. Mathis barely managed to keep his head attached during this lethal dance. He bit his lips as he kept moving despite the pain. In a battle of brawns, he will certainly lose. However, their agreement never said anything against the power of words which dictated the flow of magic. The poison of that night must still be sleeping in his veins. When Victor was about to lunge at him, Mathis duck under his swing and captured him in a hug. Ignoring the sword digging at his side, he quickly chanted his spell, a spell to reverse all the active spells he had placed on him, to awake the poison. As soon as he had finished his chant, the sword clattered on the ground while Victor collapsed in his arms. Mathis had been prepared for anything. Curses, condemnation or perhaps contempt. However, no hostility was shown. All victor did was holding him tightly, just like he did when the two had first met. “When did you stop being my friend?” he whispered. “I never did.” A single tear rolled from Victor’s cheek before he took his last breath. All Mathis could do was holding his lifeless body tight. When the last golden rays of the sun enveloped the two friends, the faint screams of battle was drowned out by the beating of his heart. The first army that found Victor and him triumphantly carried the flag of Tigris. Mathis lifted his head. So this was the end for him too? The tallest man which seemed to be the commander stepped forward. He aimed his rifle at him. Mathis closed his eyes awaiting his execution. However, his punishment never came. When he slowly opened his eyes, he found the commander kneeling along with the rest of the soldiers. “A new golden age will come due to your efforts. Thank you for slaying the mad king and freeing Tigris from its chains. The prophecy had spoken. I’m honored to have met you, our golden hero.” The commander never asked for his name. Well, he had no name to give them anymore. All he ever was and will be was the golden hero. Their golden hero.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
The Chosen Child The dust swirled around the trudging feet of the long column of refugees, and their horses and cattle, and the wheels of their creaky makeshift carts and wagons as well. Hansheld rode up and down the line, keeping people together, encouraging those that were struggling. He saw other soldiers here and there, former comrades who had ditched theirs out of fear, or wore it like any other set of dusty rags. His own uniform he still wore properly, clean as he could keep it and in good repair. But then he still had a mission guiding him, while these others were only retreating in utter defeat. When the ragged caravan came to a halt, he rode up to a specific wagon, this one carefully made to look absolutely no different from the rest. Inside was a young woman, only 17, cradling a newborn baby. “No sign of pursuit. It seems the enemy really doesn’t know you’re here.” “Let’s pray it stays that way. We only need to reach the port, and then my son will be safe.” She looked up at him as she spoke, fair skinned with freckles and light, wavy brown hair. Her eyes were blue as the sky and reflected an inner strength, undaunted by everything they’d seen these pasts weeks of loss and suffering. The baby opened his eyes too, the golden eyes of the ancient line of the Hawk Kings, that and the mark on his forehead meaning his parentage would never be in question even with him being born after his father’s assassination, only weeks after the marriage. “I’m glad you and the child are doing well, Queen Hestia,” Hansheld said with a bow after looking over them both. “And the kingdom still has hope as long as the boy is alive, he *is* prophesized to rule it.” For this reason tirelessly he kept up the watch of the caravan and the one wagon in particular, as they all made their slow way to the coast. Enemy soldiers were spotted here and there, swaggering and smug in their victory with their betrayer on the throne. “Long live the new King! Long live King Tragonne! That’s right, run away little chickens! There's nothing left for you here!” they would cheer, and jeer, throwing dirt clods and stones after the wagons. But thankfully with no real interest in what seemed just another poverty stricken train of fleeing refugees. Finally they reached the ships that would carry them to freedom among some old allies, but it was then that Hestia revealed her plan. “What do you mean you’re not going?” Hansheld asked, stunned. “My son will be safe, I’m leaving him with trusted maids. One of those women raised ME, I know she’s more than capable. And we have many wealthy friends across the sea, they'll know where to find them. ” “But you...?” Hestia lifted her chin and regarded him with her fierce blue eyes. “My son has been chosen by the gods to rule this kingdom. But sometimes you have to MAKE fate happen, so I will work to clear the way for him. Before the child comes of age, Tragonne and his closest followers will learn to fear my knife in the dark.” Hansheld’s attempts to convince her to think of her own safety didn’t go anywhere, and finally he gave in only if she agreed to let him stay too and help her. “Whatever happens, you are my Queen, and I will always stand by your side.” Running away had never sat right with him anyway. But still his hands trembled as he strapped on the sword he had thought he was setting aside for good. Bidding farewell to the ships, in the plain clothes of ordinary citizens, appearing just as a man traveling with his wife, the two of them made their way back the way they had come. Years went by, and they did all they could to help fate alone. Hestia had the easiest time, it was no trouble at all for a pretty young woman to get a drunk man alone, even army captains and nobility. But they used arrows or poison too when they could, a variety of methods to leave no pattern. Sometimes the escapes after this were harrowing, and they hid for weeks half starving in barns or caves, but helped now and then by trusted followers they were slowly collecting. The hardships drew them closer together, eventually as more than just a Queen and her loyal captain, and they found comfort in each other’s arms, becoming married soon after. A son was born, this one with only the blue eyes of his mother and Handsheld’s face. He had no prophecy from the gods, but Hansheld loved him dearly anyway. For a time this meant they couldn’t do their work against Tragonne the Betrayer, but the follower’s they’d collected picked up the slack, sabotaging supplies and the iron mines the soldiers depended on. In a couple of years the work resumed again, the child joining them in their travels and hardships as he grew, and becoming a part of their schemes. He was there when Hestia stood proudly over Tragonne’s bloodied corpse, dagger in her hand, and he caught her when she staggered and fell from her own wounds, blood staining her dress and pooling on the floor at his feet. Hansheld and his son kept a long vigil praying beside Hestia as the doctors worked, but nothing could be done. Her blue eyes stared heavenward as she grasped their hands and breathed her last, but the last word on her lips was neither of their names, but the chosen child she’d done all this for. Years passed. The revolution had had an easy time after the removal of Tragonne and so many of his most loyal followers, and an aging Hansheld oversaw matters of the kingdom now. “Sir, an armada has been sighted! They say the ships bear the banner of the Golden Hawk!” an stunned messenger informed him one day. “That would be Hestia’s first son, ready to take his rightful place now. Making it easy for him was what all of this was for,” Hansheld said, standing with a sigh. He and his son walked down to the beach to watch the distance specks of the approaching ships. “The kingdom is in pretty good shape, and the people are happy,” the young man remarked. “Everything has been done for him. But...*we* have a good armada too. And I’m just thinking of all that we sacrificed to get things this way, how I never had a normal childhood.” The young man’s voice took on a sad and reflective quality. “Mother lost her life, I held her in my arms while *he* was wealthy and comfortable in a nice home far away. But in the end she loved him more.” He stood there contemplating a little longer, then spoke again more decisively. “I’d trade a kingdom for what he got for nothing...but no, he doesn’t get to have both. Why did he even need to come here now? You know...maybe we should just keep what’s ours by right. What we worked for and earned. They say he’s the chosen one? The gods don’t choose fairly, if that’s true. But I wonder who REALLY even decides these things.” Hearing this, Hansheld’s own mind had drifted to all the long, hard years, the endless fighting and hunger and fear. It was true Hestia had never wavered in her purpose. But him? His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and trembled, not from age but from the enormity of what he must do. He stepped forward, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. Then he gazed down at him with eyes glowing with love and pride. “You know, sometimes, we do have to MAKE fate happen.” Drawing his sword, hands steadied now with the resolve of what was to come, he pointed it at the armada and added with a quiet fierceness. “And sometimes, we have to defy it. Whatever happens, you are my son, and I will always stand by your side.”

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Vote!

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

I pick "The Chosen Child."  I thought the writing was much more sophisticated, and I really liked how it worked to evoke a particular atmosphere and tone, leaning more on those things than plot.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

2

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

The Chosen Son. I liked how the chosen hero was barely in the story at all, it worked out very well for it. The story itself seemed more composed than The Golden Hero and had didn't leave me wondering as much as The Golden Hero did. I didn't really like the ending of The Chosen Son, but as a story it was entertaining.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
I actually did like the ending. I expected him to kill the son because edginess, but we got the twist of a wholesome bonding moment instead.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
One way the story worked out that I really liked but didn't intend from the beginning was that the son that was "chosen" can refer to either of them, it just depends on who you ask.

What didn't you like about the ending, I'm just curious.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

I think mizal pointed it out; I expected the edgy murder of his actual son because of his devotion to the queen. I'm just a sucker for the whole "prophecy" trope. I wouldn't see it as negative because this is well written and the parallels through it are great. The ending you wrote is probably the more realistic thing that would happen and I could see where the story can continue. 

As far as voting, my opinion on the ending wasn't a huge factor because the story you wrote was very enjoyable to read.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
#2 please and thank you.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
2. I felt the first story sacrificed too much character for its plot, leaving the whole a barebone framework.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

Story 2, The Chosen Child

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

2 has a stronger flavor

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

Story 2 is marginally better. They're both terrible.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

I vote for story 2. 

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

First of all: congratulations. Neither of you backed out, unlike the other two duels, so other people didn’t have to take your place in the arena. One of you will be admired for doing this, the other thought of as foolish. Others have cast their votes and I think it’s clear who the winner will be, but I’m here to give an in-depth review on these two stories in effort to benefit you both. 

 

Story 1: 

-Firstly, there are a lot of SPAG mistakes in this story, especially when I’m terms of tense. I’m going to point out three and how to fix them.

  1. ‘He knew this prophecy all too well, but he had never thought that he will be the one whose fate of the kingdom rested on his hands.’ This is a strong opening line, but it has a few mistakes. It should be ‘He knew the prophecy all too well, but he had never thought that he would be the one on whom the fate of the kingdom rested.’ This is because this sentence is primarily in past tense, so all verbs should also be in past tense. I have also removed the final few words: otherwise this sentence is incredibly long and unwieldy to read.
  2. ‘the new things to come with this chance of plans.’ Should be ‘the new things to come with this change of plans.’ I’m pretty sure this is just a simple spelling error, but there are a few lingering around that should be quashed. 
  3. ‘Despite Victor’s busy schedule, he always found time to chat up with Mathis.’ Should be ‘catch up with Mathis’. This originally confused me while writing English too, as it is ‘chat up’ in Sign Language as well. 

-There is a lot of telling in this plot. The third person omniscient narrator seems to simply tell us whatever we need to know in the moment, which ruins the impact of some of the more heartfelt moments. Don’t tell us Mathis ‘so wanted’ friendship, show us. There are video essays online that can help with this. 

-One positive here is the plot is pretty well paced and structured. The motif of the golden hero being twisted several times, so that we as the audience are kept guessing as to what or who it is, is clever and kept me on my toes throughout the text. 

 

Story 2:

-First of all, what an ending. I was split between thinking the POV was going to kill his own son or direct his blade towards the enemy. Either way, this stuck out as a strength of the story: incredibly well written. I would like to see an alternate ‘son-slaying’ version though.

-This story does not have any SPAG errors from what I can see, but it does have some words that seem to be missing.

Eg: ‘He saw other soldiers here and there, former comrades who had ditched theirs out of fear, or wore it like any other set of dusty rags. His own uniform he still wore properly, clean as he could keep it and in good repair.’ I’m assuming ‘theirs’ refers to the other soldier’s armour, but with no talk of armour before this it is rather confusing on the first read through. There’s one more missing word in the text, can you find it? 

-The *-* marks are internet grammar and, while serviceable, shouldn’t be used in a serious text. A simple fix is to replace them with italics, which is far more socially acceptable (and not used by role playing furries). 

 

Overall I give my vote to story two.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
"He saw other soldiers here and there..."

Oops! How did I miss that in proofreading. That was a paragraph where things got cut up and moved around, the sentence that had the uniform used to be on top of the rest.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

It happens. Well done for your victory. 

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

Story 2, The Chosen Child

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Commended by mizal on 12/6/2021 10:44:28 AM

Well, gotta say Soy, you've beaten me by a landslide. Haha, you've got some fine ass prose written down there. Good story too. Well, and I haven't written a short story in years, so I'll dutifully take this defeat. No hard feelings.

Feel free to send me a drawing request in the ol' thread "Beef with Soy". I do both traditional as well as digital art. Eh, I'm pretty okay with characters, but not that much with backgrounds and animals. (Had an old drawing thread if you want some reference to the average quality) So do with that what you will.

I wish you good luck fighting Ebon! 

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Oh yeah, since I knew who the authors were the unexpected steamrolling was pretty interesting to watch.

One thing I do like about these duels is how they can upset expectations, a short story is a very different beast than a longer work. You have to pack a lot of information and impact in a small place, and people sometimes don't realize you can't just transfer the same writing style from one to another. (Or they do but there's a deadline and no time to figure out what works...)

Anyway, still keeping to the trend of these duels being miles better than they used to be either way.

I'm going to give the other two threads another day for voting since it seems this one got way more attention. So this was also valuable to show that we really shouldn't do more than one or two simultaneous duels, three and attention spans break. (Well that and the forum was pretty dead over the weekend in general.)

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

Survivors log, day fifteen:

I'm losing hope I'll ever get closure on my story's success or failure. She said she'd finish this fourteen days ago, dear god I'm alone. 

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
For what it's worth, thanks for replacing a flaky fucktard.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Oh yeah.

I'll do it after work.

I had some distractions and was barely looking at the forum for awhile. And quite honestly, once they stopped being grudge matches with entrants trying to gouge each other's eyes out, were these threads REALLY worth paying attention to? Voters seemed to back me up on this.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Don't tell me I flipped that coin for nothing. The poor kid I stole it from looked like he needed his lunch money.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

I scratch at the side of my cell, my nails now nipped by the contact with the concrete. Once I'm done with the daily task of listing the length of time I've been trapped here with lines on the wall, I spend a few hours bashing at the bars. They never bend. They'll never break. My fingers bleed; my hands are blue with bruises, the skin swelling from being slammed into steel. The first week or so I tried to scream, hoping someone passing the perimeter of my prison might hear it: thus far they've failed to, either that or they're deaf. Wouldn't that be ironic. 

My room contains a cramped bed with sheets that might make for a nice noose were it not for the fact the ceiling is flush. Two lights shine into the cell, though these are contained in two five foot holes in the wall. I couldn't start a fire with them, or electrocute myself. Even if I could reach them, I couldn't cut myself with the bulbs. They look to have been made out of plastic. My final thought was to bash my brains out on the wall, but each time I begin to bleed I fall into a deep sleep and don't die.

I know who's trapped me here. I know why. It's that stupid story I sent to be the stand in for some flaky fucker: it's stuck on equal votes and Mizal won't sort that shit out. She promised to do it TWICE now, but simply hasn't. It's fine I suppose. She does deserve some time to roleplay as a vampire and discuss Ford's futa fetish, but the excuses she pulls are starting to become exotic. It's been two days since she last stated anything about the thread, though even that she failed to follow up on. I don't even care if I lose to some noob now, I want my pity points, or some feedback I suppose. 
 

Until then, here I wait, hungry and helpless. The cat food that appears in my abode each morning is slowly being reduced each day. 
 

-Green 

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
I'm just doing it out of spite, after this.

I can't cast votes in these, you'll have to find somebody else to break the tie. But now you've roleplayed yourself into this cell and might not be able to escape.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

:,( 

I may cry 

Soy vs Darius

24 days ago
Commended by mizal on 12/31/2021 5:56:32 PM
Does the tie have to be broken to possibly get a commendation?

Soy vs Darius

24 days ago
Nah.

Soy vs Darius

24 days ago
My New Year's resolution is to get the thread sorted and give feedback on those, and then OD on Sudafed.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
I'm voting for this story. Excellent characterisation and highly relatable.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Commended by mizal on 12/22/2021 9:40:19 AM
I stayed away for over two weeks to demonstrate how little I cared about these duels, but this thread makes me happy now holy shit.

I'm getting that art just as soon as I decide what character I want yeh boi.

Also for the people making comments about it in this in other threads, I'm just pointing out that I'm no longer in debt and that the mod comments made me laugh.

Soy vs Darius

one month ago

No reason to be so ashamed to admit that you've been a little busy. I was busy with friggin exams too! At times I have forgotten to check up on things as well. As you are no longer in red, I don't see a reason to needlessly pester you anymore. If you want to have my useless opinion, you have gotten my respect for beating me to filthy pulp.

Regarding the art, after that Ford debacle months ago (which I will not further elaborate), I refuse to draw any NSFW content, so please keep your drawing request some form "family friendly", okki? Other than that, throw your wildest ideas at me and I'll try to make it reality. Might not be as good as MHD, but my drawing skills are at least better than a 5 year old with crayons. 

Have a nice holiday Soy! :)

Soy vs Darius

one month ago
Lol, I'd forgotten about that.

But Soy is a tiny infant anyway, and that's a good rule just in general around here given how many others are underfoot.