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Match 19495 Corvo Attano vs. The Creeper (Jeepers Creepers)

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Corvo Attano (Dishonored) vs The Creeper (Jeepers Creepers)


A single vessel cut through the water, the ripples of it’s passing the only sound in the still, quiet night.  It was old, made of wood that was dark and twisted with age, held together by rusted metal and crumbling, reddened bolts.  There was a small, covered cargo area at the stern; odd, stained bundles crowded the space, barely glimpsed from the docks.  Nets and barrels piled on the deck, weapons glittered sharp and wet with blood—harpoons and hooks and chains, all the marks of a fisherman up early to pile his trade.

The vessel glided through the water, past other boats upon which the moonlight reflected dully against their sleek, metal hulls.  It glided past docks bristling with other ships, fisherman with gear stowed and traders with boxes of items lashed and locked.  It glided past waters stained red with the life blood of great beasts, slain for their meat and blood and bone; slipping past the carcasses of the whales, lashed to the docks with crows pecking their eyes and chunks of meat carved from their great flesh.

The backs of shops were visible further up the docks, the brick scrubbed clean, shutters open to the night air.  The boat slipped past those well-lit, clean streets, delving deeper, towards the damp and dark and poor.  It glided across water smooth like a mirror towards crumbling wood and dirty brick, towards dank streets where children fought rats for bread stained green and black.

There it parked, there it waited, so still it might have been sleeping.  But no.  The driver of the boat stirred then, a tall, thick man in heavy boots and heavy coat, his face hidden by his wide brimmed hat, by his upturned collar, by the heavy weight of the dark.  No, he’d been sleeping for twenty-three years, but no more.  The man stared at the dock, stared at the rats that scurried past and the dogs that growled at him with ears laid back. 

He was so, so hungry.  It gnawed at him, stomach aching and convulsing as if it could consume itself, aching like muscles stiff with disuse and old bones unused to bearing such weight.  But dogs and rats wouldn’t do, oh no.  He wanted people, wanted to tear their flesh from their bones, wanted to dig out organs hot and juicy—he wanted to drop it all right down his gullet and feel young again as their parts became his. 

He was an ancient, timeless thing.  He’d been here before humans existed, and he would be here long after they were gone from this earth.  The people who’d chased him away from his last den thought they’d won, and maybe they did.  But he escaped, he endured, he ate.  It’d been centuries since he’d enjoyed a new hunting ground.

He glided his boat further, parked it in an abandoned, hidden spot.  He would have to find a new lair soon, a new spot for his tools and toys and trophies.  Next, he got out and walked.  Oh, how he would scare them and take in their scent, ripe with fear.  Not any human would do.  Once he was sated enough to be picky, he could find the most delicious prey, the ones that would smell and taste just right.  It was what he lived for, glutting himself on the most delicious of human flesh in his final days.  The feeling of strength and youth, before his world went black.

He only had twenty-three days before he had to go back to sleep, but until then…all he wanted to do was eat. 


~ O ~


Corvo Attano, Royal Protector, leaned against the wall high in Dunwall Tower, frowning at the city watch officers as they told Empress Emily Kaldwin of the gruesome murders plaguing the old Flooded District.  He was tall and lean, strength apparent in his muscled, folded arms.  He had a hard, weathered face with deep set dark eyes and a strong nose, dark stubble marring his cheeks.  His hair was dark, collar length.  He was imposing, a quiet, hard-faced man dressed in all black and dark grey with a sword strapped to his waist and a watchful readiness that seemed to say he knew how to use it.  His hand twitched as he listened; there was an odd, dark mark on the back of it, almost burned into his flesh.

“—dozen people have went missing—”

“—stories of a monster walking the streets, like the weepers but worse—”

“—found people half eaten, but the teeth marks are too big for rats—”

“—the plague is back—"

“That’s enough”, Emily said, raising a hand upon which flashed her signet ring. The Empress was young, nervous, struggling to fill her mother’s shoes—but none of that showed on her face.  “Tell me again, Captain.  What did you see?”

The Watch Captain stepped forward, gave a brisk nod.  But his hand shook before he clenched it into a fist.  He was afraid.  What would scare a man who’d lived through the worst the Rat Plague had to offer?  Corvo frowned harder, marked hand twitching.  “I know it sounds crazy, but my men have seen it”, the Captain said.  “A creature that looks dead, but moves faster and stronger than any man.  It’s no weeper, neither.  It thinks, reasons.  We cornered it in an alley last night, fired a dozen rounds into its chest.  It ripped Jameson’s heart out of his chest and ate it, then grabbed Bolten and flew off.  We found him later…with his fucking…lungs and liver missing.”

Emily blinked, seemingly speechless.  “I don’t—” She closed her eyes, took a breath. “This is no plague.  Keep your men away from it for now; we don’t need any more dead.  Evacuate the district, then wait for my order.  We will hunt this thing and kill it, Captain.”

The Captain nodded, then turned and led his officers out of the room.

Emily turned to Corvo, looking very much like his scared, teenage daughter instead of the competent, confident Empress of a few moments ago.  “Father, I don’t…what is that thing?”

Corvo shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Maybe Sokolov could find out, if he had time to study it.  It’s not important.”  No, what was important was that it died.  Now.  Tonight. 

“How did it get here?  Do you think someone sent it, to destabilize me and take the crown?  Tivia or Serkonos or one of the damn Nobles?  None of them think I can be Empress, not like…not like mom was.”   Emily’s face was pale, and she was looking at him like she used to do when she was a kid—like he could do anything, fix anything. 

He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her in a hug.  “You’re still learning, Emily.  If… if Jessamine was here, she’d tell you she’s proud of how you turned this city around after the plague.”  He stepped back, looked her in the eyes.  “Listen, Emily.  I need you to stay off of the rooftops tonight.  Do not leave the tower under any circumstances.  Do you understand?”

“Are you—you’re not going after it alone, are you?”

Corvo nodded.  “I’ll find it and kill it.  I need you to stay here, where it’s safe.”  The mark on his hand, the mark of the Outsider, burned. 

It was only a few years ago that the Rat Plauge haunted their streets, when rats swarmed and those close to death wandered the streets, attacking and sickening those unlucky enough to encounter them.  It was only a few years ago that he was bodyguard and lover both to his dearest, beloved Jessamine; that the assassin Daud murdered her in cold blood, and Corvo framed for her death.  It was only a few years since the Outsider emerged from the misty, unfathomably ancient Void with his pitch-black eyes and unearthly voice and gave him a choice.

Take his mark, take his powers.  Use them to rescue his daughter and return her to power…use them to get revenge on the people in power who’d betrayed and dishonored him just to take the throne, use them to get revenge on the people who’d taken Jessamine away from him.

He’d done just that.  He’d held this country in the palm of his hand, choosing who lived and who died, choosing the future that would form…if he’d given in to his hate, his anger, Dunwall would be nothing more than a mass grave of corpses rotting under the scorching sun, crows pecking out their unseeing, dead eyes.  He hadn’t.  He didn’t want his daughter to rule a mountain of dead.

 No, Corvo saved Pierro and Sokolov, two great minds who worked together to cure the plague.  He killed or did away with the corrupt people who’d betrayed him to take power, the ones rotting the city from within, the ones who released the plague.  He restored balance, restored Emily to the throne, saved the city.  Even now, he protected his daughter from assassins, protected this city by helping her rebuild it and give aid to the sick and poor and hungry.

He was Dunwalls’ protector, its dark angel, its avenging, unearthly guardian of death.  He knew what it was to stalk a man unseen from the rooftops, to kill him, watch his lifeblood spill onto his boots.  He’d enjoyed killing Jessamine’s murderer, enjoyed watching the life fade from Daud’s eyes as he chocked around the blade lodged in his throat.    It seemed it was time to kill again.  To don his mask once more, a relic from the times of the Rat Plauge.  Corvo wouldn’t allow a monster to roam the streets, killing and eating his people.  If it wasn’t stopped…who knew how many it would eat?  Would Dunwall become dead and sick once more?  His daughter the Empress of waste and ruin?  Just like the Rat Plauge, just like when Jessamine was taken from him…

Would it find Emily and rip out her beating heart to shove down its throat?  Corvo shuddered.  No.  That’s why he would kill this thing now, tonight, before that became even the most remote of possibilities.  He’d killed to protect his daughter before, and he would do so again, as many times as it took. 


~ O ~


Corvo wore a metal mask and a long, dark coat as he slipped out of his bedroom window that night to run along the rooftops of Dunwall.  His muscles bunched and warmed, steps near silent as he ran faster, leapt and climbed farther, faster than any mortal man.  Once, he’d traded the carved bones of the great, ocean-dwelling beats back to the Outsider for greater gifts, greater powers.  Years passed…but his gifts remained, just like the mark burned into his hand.

Night passed as he ran and leapt across tall, tiled rooftops.  It was dark, the moon and stars hidden behind a deep cloud cover.  He could have taken a boat, but he liked being up high—greater visibility of the area, of the target, and easier to stay hidden.  The old Flooded District was not so very far, not by rooftop.  Besides, this…creature could fly.  So too would he, as close to flight as any man could reach.

He could tell he was close by the smell.  Stagnant water, rotting wood and flesh, soot and smoke.  The Flooded District was decimated during the Rat Plague—repair couldn’t begin until the country was stabilized, and were still underway.  People liked to hide in the forgotten corners. Soon he was closer still, and could see from his rooftop perch.  Broken, boarded windows, debris and trash and dead on the street—it hadn’t been this bad last time he was here in this area, but the creature was here for many days, killing and inciting panic.

It reminded him of the Rat Plague.  The smells, the sights.  Made him remember rats swarming people and eating them as they screamed, weepers hacking and stumbling at him with bloodshot eyes and grasping, tearing hands…the smell of stagnant water and rotting flesh as he crawled and snuck his way out of the Flooded District after he was left there for dead following his second betrayal…of killing Daud, his blood hot on Corvo’s skin as it bubbled and spat out of his gasping mouth. 

Corvo frowned, shaking his head.  He needed to focus.  There.  A fire a few blocks over; everything was too wet to burn…before.  The Outsider’s mark burned as Corvo ‘blinked’, teleporting himself across the road in an instant, feet landing on the bulbous head of a lamppost.  He blinked onto the roof, crossing the next street in a similar fashion until he found the source of the fire.  An apartment building was burned down, the big wooden beams and some brick left, embers flashing red and black in drifts.

That was when he heard the screams.  His feet pounded against the roof as he ran toward the sound.  He leapt into the street, mark burning as he blinked in midair, feet landing with a thud on the roof across the street.  A pistol fired, something screeched as someone swore.  Crouching low, Corvo made his way quickly and silently across the rooftops towards the sounds.

There.  A tall, thick man walked down the middle of the road in a wide brimmed hat and long coat, wispy white hair peeking out from the collar.  No, not a man.  The creature.  A Watch officer stood in the mouth of a nearby alley, uniform torn and bloody.  A haggard faced man in disheveled, working man’s clothes stood just behind her, two young children clutched in his arms.  Another child lay still and unmoving near the apartment building entrance close to the alley, a shredded stump left for an arm and a bleeding hole in his stomach.

As Corvo watched from his rooftop perch by the mouth of the alley, the Watch Officer raised her pistol, shot.  The creature jerked, keening, but kept walking towards them, except quicker, faster.  The Watch Officer fumbled to reload, the children behind her crying as the man tried to drag them down the alley.

Quick, Corvo slid down the roof to an open baloney just below him.  The creature was coming, fast, faster.  He disregarded the pistol on his hip loaded with explosive bullets, choosing the crossbow instead.  He fired a bolt, quick.  It punctured the creature’s chest, sticking out of its coat.  It stopping, whipping its head up to stare at Corvo from a green, lined, ridged face, sharp teeth bared in a snarl.

The Outsider’s mark burned as Corvo cast devouring swarm.  Heaps of rats piled out of a wispy, unfathomably black, void-like hole in the ground at the creature’s feet.  The rats leapt upon it, running up its legs, crawling up its coat, tearing chunks out of its green, flaky, dead looking skin.  The creature grabbed rat after rat, tossing them to the ground and smashing them under its boots, but there were more, always more.  During the Rat Plague, Corvo watched them devour men, screaming, until there was nothing left but bones in less than a minute.

But a minute was too long.  Wings burst from the creatures back as it keened.  It flew into the air, rats hanging from its clothes only to fall to the street.  The creature grabbed the rest, tearing their teeth out of its skin and cracking their bodies against the brick buildings.  It flew towards Corvo, teeth bared. 

The pistol bucked in his hand as it fired.  Quick, Corvo climbed the tall railing and then up onto the roof.  The creature crashed through the louver doors just below him.  The outsider’s mark flashed and burned as Corvo cast dark vision.  He could see the creature through the roof in shades of yellow, just like the rats that scurried out of its way.  The creature stood, fixing its coat with a jerk, then strode towards the balcony once more. 

As soon it appeared, Corvo struck.  Silently, he slid off the roof, colliding with the creature and bearing him onto the stone.  He grabbed its hair, jerked its head back, and plunged his sword into that sweet spot where neck met shoulder.

The creature keened, wings buffeting him and body bucking so hard Corvo fell off of it, sword still clutched in his hand.  The creature turned on him, grabbed his arm with a grip that hurt his bones, sharp teeth lunging for his flesh.  Quick, quick, the mark burned—and the world went still, drenched in tones of grey.  Corvo had cast bend time.

His blade flew, severing the creature’s arm at the elbow.  Panting, Corvo forced himself up.  He leapt off of the balcony, blinking onto a lamppost and then onto the roof across the street.  How long had it been since this fear, this adrenaline, sang through his veins?  Disgusted, he tore the creature’s grasping arm off of him, tossed it down into the street even as color blossomed and time spun once more. 

Across the street, the creature grabbed the stump of its arm, head whipping around as it looked for him.  Then, it stilled, head cocked like a dog.  Corvo used the telescopic lens in his mask to look closer.  He saw the creature’s nostrils flare, eyes closed.  Then it smiled, and Corvo felt a chill run down his back.  Suddenly, he felt like prey, like he would be the one hunted, not it.

His rats had destroyed the creature’s boots.  It kicked them off, then…crawled its way up the side of the building, pulling itself on top of the roof.  Wings spread, fanned.  It flew down to the apartment building, to the corpse of the child lying so still upon the street.  The rest of the people were gone, fled.  The creature ripped another arm off, and then ate it, sharp teeth tearing off the flesh in shreds.  When it was finished, it stood.  Corvo’s gaze narrowed as he realized its stump was…moving.  Was it…regrowing its arm?

The creature walked to the middle of the street, drawing some sharp instrument, carved from bone, out of its pocket.  It laid its head back, nostrils flaring.  Was it trying to smell him?  Then it walked down the street, spinning its bone blade, whistling a tune that was old when Corvo’s mother sung it to him as a child.

Crouched low, Corvo crept down the roof after it.  He thought of the equipment on his person—pistol, crossbow, and sword; sleep darts, incendiary bolts, and explosive bullets; springrazors, grenades, and sticky bombs—the enhancements he’d traded for and the powers he’d bought with carved, thrumming runes of bone—blink, dark vision, devouring swarm, bend time, windblast.  He’d need all of it, and every bit of his wits, to hunt this horrid, timeless thing that rotted his streets with every step. 

If he could actually manage to kill it, it’s body would turn into ash, drifting away on the wind.  Shadow kill.  One of the outsider’s craftiest, more unnatural boons.

He’d killed would be Kings and master assassins, immortal witches and High Overseers, rich Nobles and weepers and rats.  But this thing, this creature, would be his most challenging target, his deadliest mark.  How many times would he have to kill it for it to actually die?  Corvo crept after it, his mind turning even as the mark on his hand burned.


 ~ O ~


The creature whistled as it walked down the road.  It’d fed and glutted, renewed it bones and muscles and skin over the last few days.  It should have fled to regroup, to hunt and glut on panic and terror.  But the smell…it liked it, that one whisp of fear he’d caught on the balcony from the man with the metal mask just before he’d disappeared, taking its arm with him.

The human smelled like dark, ancient magics, like timeless, unearthly things.  What would it gain if it ate it?  What powers would it absorb if it stripped the man’s flesh off of his bones and shoved it hot and steaming down his throat?  Besides, that smell…it was too delicious to ignore.  So it walked down the street, swinging its bone dagger, whistling, waiting for the masked man to strike.




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First off, welcome to the site!

I know you have commented here before, but I do believe this is your first match, and wow, you are making a great debut. 

Before I give my rating, I just want to say this, I will be far more nit-picky in my comments than I usually am specifically because this is an entry in our writer's challenge. Writing is not something on a forum is not something people should be over critical about. Posting on a forum is for entertainment, but it can also be used to learn how to improve your writing, and learn more about your favorite characters.  With all that being said...

You have some minor spelling and grammatical errors in the writing, nothing major but here is a few of them that stand out to me: "sick and poor and hungry" as opposed to "sick, poor, and hungry", "He chocked" instead of "He choked", and the misspelling of the word "Plague" multiple times. 

These are obviously just simple mistakes, nothing too severe here.

I will say this is a fight I wouldn't have thought of, and I really don't know why I haven't. I can definitely visualize them fighting. It really surprises me the Corvo hasn't been used until now. 

I definitely this one being a war of many battles, constant escaping to heal up and then going back to fight. The difference here for me, I don't really think Corvo has a way to win here. He could definitley out fight, and out gun The Creeper, but can he kill him? I don't believe he really has a way to win here. I'm going to give my vote to The Creeper, I think Corvo demands most of this fight, but he does eventually fall. RIP Dunwall. 

4.5/5 - Great job, excellent debut match. I look forward to seeing more from you. 

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Very good Challenge entry, MistressOfWords! It tells a descriptive and very entertaining story that shows good motives for the characters. Makes me wish you'd make matches more often than just for Challenges. 

As for the match, I'm not even sure I've heard of the Dishonored games before now, but this Corvo dude seems like he might be able to put the hurt on the Creeper. I'm not sure Corvo can do enough, though, to put the Creeper down for good before the latter can feast to heal himself. I just saw the first Jeepers Creepers film last week, and it looks like nothing short of complete dismemberment could keep the Creeper down for the duration of his 23 days. 

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Good job on the write up and for giving Corvo his first matchup!

I think the dishonored assassin will ultimately win, the Creepers regeneration will make it tough but ultimately Corvo’s stealth, superior fighting style, and supernatural abilities will allow him to prevail. 

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Match Final Results

Member Ratings:
4.50 - IKA
4.80 - DSkillz
4.40 - Pizzaguy2995
4.00 - broadwaybeyonder
4.70 - Boratz

FPA Calculation:
5 Total Votes cast
22.40 Total Combined Score
22.40 / 5 = 4.48 Final Rating on the match

Corvo Attano: 2
The Creeper (Jeepers Creepers): 3

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