Pk has won our very first summer tournament!

Now, just as the summer comes to a close, our very first Unvanquished tournament has also ended. The final matches took place last Friday, with the results visible on the bracket above. Pk has come out in the lead, with {get} in second place, *son in third place, and GT in granger place. I would consider the tournament to be a surprising success given that we had matches every week and that most of the groups managed to show up, not to mention that we all had fun, or so I hope. In addition, the tournament was the first major test of our new gameplay, and has provided us with a wealth of balance data to take into consideration for the coming months. So, to everyone that participated, thank you! The service that you have done to our community and project is a great one, and I look forward to playing with you in next year’s tournament, when we will hopefully have an even larger playerbase than before.

As for today’s topic, I am to write some words in praise of the victors, as contractually obliged.

Without a doubt, Pk is the single greatest thing to happen to Unvanquished. The very moment that Pk set foot in our community, things have changed. New standards have been set for complete and utter brutality, as none can stop the vicious onslaught of their clan. How, then, is Pk the single greatest thing to happen? Well, it’s simple. All the clans wish to be like Pk, to imitate the conquerors and their methods, to hope to one day join with them in the veritable orgy of slaughter rather than to cower in fear of their prowess. When Pk raiders wander through Unvanquished towns, trampling down the main roads on their mighty steeds, the main streets are abandoned by those that wait in their shelters with weapons pressed to their foreheads in anticipation of a quicker death. An occasional young maiden leaps out to impede their progress, driven mad by her time in hiding, offering the pillagers whatever they desire. Gifts of food, thrown aside. Her firstborn son, dashed beneath the hooves of their stallions of war. A friend granger, bludgeoned to death. Then she too is slain, the red ichor from within her ruptured tissues coating their infernal blades in dripping crimson.

Hailing from the frozen wastelands of their long-abandoned home of GPP, the menace knows no bounds. It razes cities, it destroys empires, and then removes all traces of them having ever existed. No motive can be discerned from their wanton violence, no reasoning can be made with the featureless men of their clan. They desire no wealth, for offers of great riches will not sway them. Nor do they desire power, for the great palaces and temples of the land are reduced to their foundations, the land then salted by slaves who themselves are soon slain, their heads hoisted on pikes as a grim reminder to those that dare to retain life in the insurmountable wave of death. Merely living is enough of a reason to be slain. Those that perform the act themselves prevent them from wasting their time.

In the first week of the tournament of death, GT dared to stand against them as the first line of defense, only to be CRUSHED WITHOUT MERCY.

Afterwards, *son attempted to stymie their progress, and for their efforts were rewarded with COMPLETE ANNIHILATION.

Only at the third week did Pk find resistance in the form of {get}, who bravely yet foolishly attempted to survive, only to face TOTAL AND UTTER DOOM.

The remnants of {get} once more rallied a final charge, until they too were DESTROYED, THEIR HEADS BASHED AGAINST A WALL.

~Anime is great. Praise anime. Tupac is alive. Tupac is great. Peace.~