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Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Printable Version

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Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Ashamin - 07-11-2016


Shammy. The nickname struck the Clovenheart like a kind knife, and he couldn't tell if he was meant to shut his mouth to smile or open it wide. Surprised, he settled somewhere in between and parted his lips to nicker. Ovi was a good new friend to have, and the eager way that she leaped from him proved that she would be willing to learn.

The painted heart moved back himself, his cloven hooves digging deeper into the sand than he wanted. He made his move to give himself space for whatever his next one would be, but also to give the young mare more time to react. While Ovi possessed natural weaponry that most didn't, Ashamin still thought it best to leave his artifacts out of the ring. He bent his head low and shook, sea air catching in his beard and necklace tumbling over his head. The gold chain, weighted down with amulets, a figurine, and a god's skull was deposited on the sand with a dull thud. Lochan moved forward to grab hold of it, testing the metal taste with his tender herbivorous lips before dragging it to rest beneath the outcropping and spitting out the grains of sand he'd picked up too.

Blood brother, the Clovenheart thought to Rakt, to me. Go easy. And...

I watch. Lochan said before Ashamin could. Without looking back, the painted buck nodded firmly and once. To Ovi it may have seemed as if he were nodding to nothing at all, but Lochan knew the gesture was meant for him.

"First thing's first," Ashamin said to the young competitor--the clever mare who angled for his tutelage--"take every opportunity to size up your opponent. Look closely and you'll see in the very way that they're built what makes them strong... and what makes them weak." Ashamin began to move forward slowly as he explained this, his path a shallow zigzag. With every muffled hoof-fall the sand sucked at his white hooves, as if trying to drag him back and away. Could he really blame nature for trying to end this before it even started? After all, more than a few friendly spars had gone dangerously south in the past. He thought of Rikyn, of Erebos, or Torleik... all with a shudder.

No, this time Ashamin would be careful. His amulets were in the sand, and his own magic was (for now) locked safely in his chest. Rakt followed closely but wouldn't aim to injure; as uncaring as the cerndyr may have pretended to be, he would always obey his bonded. If Ashamin did not want to hurt the mare, then she would be safe from Rakt's golden antlers. The Clovenheart himself would do his best to contain what had in the past proven to be uncontrollable fighting instincts.

He would not be the one to give Ovidius her first scar.

The other reason for Ashamin's slow approach was it gave him time to follow his own advice. He was thankful for his nocturnal schedule, for it had taught him to see better in the dark, but on the backdrop of the endless sea Ovi's black pelt blended with the surroundings. If it were not for her golden spikes, both her dead giveaway and her deadliest aspect, Ashamin would have struggled to pinpoint her. Guided by gold he could make out her small frame, significantly lower to the ground than his own. It was clear that any sort of attack from above aimed for her back would be the end of him, so for once Ashamin would have to utilize his strength and lower himself.

The painted buck waved his white tail behind him like a banner, and the one item that he'd kept on his person (his coils) sparked in a beacon-like manner. His white patches would make him easier to see, but his face looked ghostly divided only by his blaze. As a looter she surely had sharp eyes; Ashamin suspected she wouldn't have trouble finding him, but perhaps the gesture would distract her from Rakt. As Ashamin attempted to decrease the distance between himself and his pupil, Rakt shook stardust out of his coat and molded it into spirits. They were small and pale, but they would do the trick. The right corner of the Clovenheart's lip turned up.

"Remember, however, that there is magic in this land," he warned Ovi. "No matter how closely you look, not everything will be as it seems."

With that, Rakt sent the towards his bonded, granting Ashamin the ability to move more quickly for an integral moment. With heightened speed the stag lunged forward and hopefully towards Ovi's left side, swinging his head low to avoid her spikes and putting forth his left shoulder in an attempt to knock the mare off-balance.

""

Ashamin


WC: 799/800
PC: 1/3, 0/D
Setting: A clear birdsong night at the Endless Blue, in front of one of the rocky outcroppings. The stars are very visible and there seem to be no clouds, but rain is rolling in and could strike in a sudden storm at any moment.
Notes: For @Ovidius. Continued directly from Surf's Down. I will be providing teaching notes. Good luck!


RE: Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Ovidius - 07-11-2016

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A trill of laughter cut through the air as he agreed to her request, shaking from his neck a chain filled with amulets and other trinkets. It was hard to drag her eyes away from the shiny clutter, but it helped that Lochan pulled it beneath an outcropping. With a thankful nod toward the oldest cerndyr, Ovi took a deep breath and watched Ashamin closely, his kind black eyes reflecting only the slightest hint of moonlight.

As his voice pressed through the distance between them, wrapping about her ears and causing her to wonder at how many battles her newfound friend had seen, Ovi gave a careful nod. What makes them weak and what makes them strong... Eyes narrowing, the tiny mare focused upon her adversary, the red side and golden markings, the exotic horn and split-colored face. As her eyes continued to adjust to the stallion's movement, Ovidius attempted to make a list of the things she saw that could be of use, hoping her inexperience didn't shine through too heavily.

Slightly too-large ears were perched upon her friend's head, presenting a possible hold for her teeth. Though, as the gold-limned lass pursed her lips, she remembered the height difference that would make such a feat nearly impossible. She huffed; it was not often that she thought of the inconvenience of her stature, she tended to feel bigger than the biggest creature, she tended to feel on top of the world. With a shake of her head, the onyx mare made herself focus once more, her stream of thought becoming more of an internal monologue.

Alright, you can do this. Now look here, longer hair on his neck, probably not the best place to bite or kick, Her molten gold eyes traced Ashamin's near-silhouette, noting the knobby knees and the sharp-looking hooves, I should stay away from the hooves, but who shies away from a good kneecap bruising? A soft smile graced her lips, her good humor and infectious nature inescapable even to her own self. It didn't take too long for the inexperienced mind of Ovidius to finish her quick catalogue of Ashamin - and it didn't take much longer to deduce that, even with her pointed appendages, the experience, height difference, and mass of experience that Shammy no doubt held in that magnificent mind of his put her at a large disadvantage.

With a defiant tilt to her chin, Ovi chased her doubt away, only to be distracted by the shining forms of Rakt's swift-spirits racing toward her. Mouth popping open into a silent laugh, the thin mare took a step toward the small gathering of stardust creatures. "Hello!" She whispered to their deaf ears, face alight with wonder, "Look at you! You shine so bright!" She would have said more, would have walked over and bathed in the light of their existence, but was interrupted by Ashamin's voice.

Head snapping up as she remembered her place, Ovidius' aurelian eyes widened in shock and fear as her friend raced toward her. The fear was not for herself, however, it was for Ashamin, approaching with a quickness aided by magic and not making any move apparent to the girl that he would avoid her spikes. Head lowered with his gem glowing against the light of the moon, Ovidius only had time to bark out a panicked "Shammy! No, you gotta be careful!" Before she attempted to leap out of the way.

Unprepared as she was and with the addition of Ashamin’s shoulder knocking into her side, Ovidius lost all semblance of balance, falling face-first toward the sand.

Despite the soft texture of sand when dry, sand coupled with chilly water makes for a rather resilient surface, ending in a sickening crunch as the tiny mare’s forwardmost nasal bones were broken and smashed beneath the weight of her own mistaken lunge. Gasping from the pain, Ovidius only succeeded in inhaling sand and water, giving life to a violent and painful bout of coughs. Tears and blood streaming down her face, the tiny mare struggled to her hooves, knees scraped bloody by the rough sand and vision clouded with pain. She winced at the bruise on her left side from Ashamin’s impact before tossing her body in the direction of her teacher. One step, two, three, and she hoped she was close enough.

With a grunt, Ovi swung her horned skull toward what she hoped was Ashamin’s left side. Whether or not she would puncture his flesh was unknown to the girl, her vision remained blurred with tears and her body continued to be racked by coughs, choking on pain and blood and water. Whatever came of the wild and undisciplined strike mattered naught to her; she’d already embarrassed herself to the point of no return.

Image Credit


ALRIGHT LETS SEE HOW THIS GOES

A: 1/3
Summary: Ovi gets distracted by shinies then sees Shammy coming toward her and thinks he might get stabbed by her horns so she tries to jump out of the way, only to fall over. When she gets back up, she's disoriented by pain and coughing and all that and she tries to get close enough to Shammy to swing her head at his side and get him with her face-horns. Also crying like a baby.

Damage Tracker: Maxilla is broken from impact of own fall, skin about lips and nostrils scraped up rough, medium bruise on left side, knees all scraped up and bloody.


RE: Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Ashamin - 07-16-2016


Perhaps if not for the glowing of his own heart, painted by a lover in shades so bright that they seemed radioactive in her absence, Ashamin might have been spared the grisly sight of her injuries. The marking, however, was not so kind. Ironic that it was the most tender part of Ashamin's being that subjected him to the punishment of witnessing his crimes.

It became clear to the Clovenheart in the moments that he heard Ovidius cry out a needless warning, that she fell, recovered, and lifted up a face marred by blood, that he was a monster, and not the kind that could be forgiven, or ignored, or shoved into a deeper part of himself in order to be outshone. No, Ashamin the Clovenheart had the potential for just as much evil as he did kindness, and no amount of good deeds could outweigh the bad that were surely to come. Such was the cruel manner of fate.

Thus, frozen in this moment of horror, the Clovenheart could only stand dumbstruck as the mare moved closer to retaliate. Even her response, though, was weak in comparison to Ashamin's display of force. Perhaps Ovi had misjudged, or perhaps she (despite her injuries) simply did not have enough malice in her small body to fight back with any aim to hurt. Ashamin could only speculate. Whatever the reason, when her horn struck his left side it only smacked it with a firm thud—hard enough to bruise and irritate the flesh, to sink the hooves on his right deeper into the sand as he tried to maintain his balance, but not nearly as damaging as his own strike upon the mare.

Vaguely, in a moment of devastation’s passing, the painted buck considered that once—before the muscle and thick skin had built up around his heart—the injury would have hurt him much more.

"Don't worry about ME!" He roared then, his voice suddenly sharp. The words were not tender advice, they were a command issued as he attempted to sidepass to his right and distance himself from Ovi.

Behind him, Rakt's gold eyes were wide with the disease that was innocence lost and regret first born. The blood colored cerndyr stepped back, away from the fight, as if suddenly hurt by the pain he'd helped cause. He turned to face his brother, but found Lochan staring straight ahead, unfazed.

At least this time, the black cerndyr said to no one, into the only void fit to receive the horrible truth delivered by a voice he'd finally grown into, no one is dead.

But Rakt heard the words. Ashamin heard the words, and by the cold pain of their accuracy he was struck numb. What could he say to that? What could he say, that he wasn't a murderer? That once, on a day darker than any other he'd lived through, a mare hadn't merely taunted him and revealed a monster? No, to say such things would be to lie. Ashamin the Clovenheart was many things, perhaps even many evil things, but he told himself he was not a liar.

He responded with rage, as he always denied that he did. With whatever vestiges of his civility were left, though, he did his best to contain it. Distancing himself from Ovidius and her wounds—so horrible, painted in such an obvious red—had been in some ways a selfish act. If he was further away he could not see her pain so clearly, nor could he cause her any more. Fearing that he did not know his own physical strength, the Clovenheart turned instead to his magic.

"If someone strikes without thinking, that is their error to make and your opportunity to run, Ovi!" Ashamin insisted, shutting his eyes tight to avoid looking at her, to avoid seeing the disappointment that was surely in her gaze. "If you do not think you can attack without taking more injury than you will give, you keep your distance," he went on, trying to slow his breathing, to calm his fury. In his own heart his magic began to stir, unpredictable and new. Ashamin had utilized the manifestation magic before, but never in its more powerful state.

Perhaps he was foolish to try it now, but maybe... maybe she would be hurt less, this way. This was the lie he told himself as he pulled lightning from Ovi's chest and formed it into a sharp eyed fox, adorned with the same spikes the mare bore. This was the lie he told himself as he shifted the shock from the being's skin to its inner core, and prayed for the end of his own existence.

For Ashamin the Clovenheart was many things, perhaps even many evil things, but he would only lie to himself.


""

Ashamin


WC: 800/800
PC: 2/3, 0/D
Teaching Notes:
- Word Count: You were (luckily) under it, but be sure to always post your wordcount at the bottom of a post! Use microsoft word to count how many words you have to make sure you aren't over 800. Judges will check but you should have it posted there as well as your post number, just as a courtesy.
+ Noting differences: You did an awesome job of this! Feel free to get even more specific in the future, and taking advantage of what aspects of your characters are better when considering your attacks. That said, because you're writing from the perspective of a fairly inexperienced fighter, Ovidius' thoughts seems really in line with what she would already know and what she would be learning from Ashamin. So good job! You clearly did your research when you noted things about Ashamin's build that often go missed.
- Damage: It's so hard to take the right amount of damage and balance numbers with inclinations for drama. And it's also hard to stop feeling like you're always taking too little (which I know is something I had to get over.) In this case, I think you may have overdone it. As a wise teacher once told me, injuries to the face, mainly the mouth area, are deadly. If a horse breaks its jaw then it can't eat and it starves, and that's a pretty big deal. You didn't have Ovi break her jaw but a nasal injury is close so I thought I would bring it up, and it's something that could cause breathing issues. I think, simply because Ashamin's damage stat isn't really much higher than your average and because you also took a heavy side bruise and cut up knees, you could have scaled down or done away with some of your injuries. Remember that it's a balance, and you can think of it as each injury having a "number." As is, that face smash is about a 6 (if a bone is broken, it's always going to be a 6) and then that bruise is maybe a 2 or even 3, hard to tell how serious it is, and then the knees are bleeding so that could be a 3ish? You've then got a total of anywhere from an 11-12, and I only rolled a 6 so you're taking about double damage there. It also helps to really describe injuries so it's more clear how severe or not they are, IE the bruising and knees. Are they minor surface scrapes, or are they deep? Words like that will change an injury and help specify for a judge. All that said, now that you've taken these injuries you should commit to them. Remember that a 6 is something you should be feeling throughout the fight, and that with her nose smashed up and bleeding (though again, further description was needed here because what's the blood from, outer scrapes or her nostrils or???) Ovidius might be thinking twice about biting attacks and trying to keep her face out of the way of further danger.
-/+ Environment: You get a plus and a minus here, because it's awesome that you used it and considered it consistently. That said (and here it's tough that you're sparring someone who grew up in the ocean state :P) I think sand isn't as tough as you think. Even when it's wet it's a pretty forgiving surface, and while it's true horses have a lot more force behind them when they fall, sand doesn't scrape you up so easy. Also don't forget the time of day and all that jazz!
+ Emotion: It's there and it's good, man. Of course it's there, Ovidius is an awesome character and you sure know how to write the feelings. Keep up the good work. :)
+ Prose: Very clear to read! I didn't come across any typos or missed words (but there was one in my post, I'm a bad teacher) and that is great. I didn't have trouble understanding anything about your post but it didn't feel so technical that it was boring, either.
+Positioning: Just a quick thanks for using directions, and encouragement to keep it up. This is unbelievably helpful.


RE: Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Ovidius - 07-26-2016

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Her eyes were clouded with hurt as her newly found and beloved teacher roared a response, lips plump and almost pouting and covered with blood. As the lanky figure of Ashamin moved away, moon reflecting off of the black pools of his eyes, Ovidius could have sworn that she saw something akin to sorrow there; something nearing regret. She would have called out to him if she could, would have pressed her shattered and painful muzzle against his hairy neck and apologized for making him worry, but there was no space for gentleness in the midst of battle.

So young, thought the gold limned girl, I am still so young and ignorant. Her legs shook, determined in the face of an imminent defeat. Yet, as she lifted a hoof and shifted her weight forward in preparation to move, Ashamin's voice made her pause, his silken voice reaching above the soft roar of the waves. Her heart quailed at the anger in his voice, the disappointment that surely filled his belly at the sight of such promise and potential wasted so quickly. Bloodied lips curved down, nerve to act, to sneak and slither and fight back, sinking below the surface.

The sorrow would have been crushing, would have consumed her until she walked into the surf and not come out until she was cleansed of her shortcomings, but instead, pain lanced through her chest, stabbing at and grappling with her heart. Ovidius cried out, though the pained call was cut short into a heaving, wheezing sob. Never before had she felt such agony, never before had she been held in the arms of such a savage and complete torment. It was all she could do to stay conscious, all she could do to remain standing as an electric fox was tugged from her heart, spiked and fizzing with energy.

The injured mare couldn't help it, she offered a smile toward the golden thing, though some distant part of her consciousness screamed that it was not like Rakt's swift spirits, it was not at all like the stardust children that had raced alongside her friend. No, there was something intimate and hurtful about the tiny fox, something innately invasive and wrong. It was as if she was looking at her own soul, forced out of her body and into the physical realm.

Ovi was flooded with a sense of betrayal, though she only had a moment to consider her emotional turmoil before a lightning jab struck through each and every nerve. She fell to her knees, grinding sand into the fresh scrapes there and furthering the razor-barbed torment that exploded through her thin frame. It was all she could do to breathe, to pray that she would not die here on blooded sands at the hands of her friend. She had so much left to see, so much left to experience and know and live; could it all be cut short so easily? The girl could not speak past the throes of electricity, past the screaming of her nerve endings, how could she be expected to cross the distance between her and Ashamin? How could she be expected to fight back?

Rage sparked within her, then, the only thing keeping her conscious as she watched the manifestation of her soul writhe upon the sands before her golden eyes. She screamed for it, the broken, gravelly sound of vocal chords pushed beyond their limit; she screamed not for herself, but for the tiny, spiked creature who had no voice of it's own. Ovidius turned her gaze upon Ashamin, his eyes shut tightly against the reality he had forced into being, like someone who couldn't bear to see the consequences of their actions.

Like a coward.

Through the pain, that rage sparked again, igniting forth into an inferno. Golden eyes darkened, screaming the words she could not, tossing at Ashamin's cloven hooves her disdain. See me! Bellowed the lass through whatever tenuous emotional connection they had developed, Witness me! Witness what you have done! Give me the respect I deserve and look at what you have done. He would see the words, she knew, he would understand the deafening silence through which her thoughts flooded. He was a warrior, yes, but if he could not face his actions, if he couldn't summon up the courage to see and to truly behold what he was doing, what good was his title? What good was battle prowess if one couldn't bring themselves to bear the pain they had caused?

Lifting her leonine tail took more effort than she thought she could muster, but at last, amidst the internal struggle, Ovidius was able to throw her tufted appendage forward, spraying sand in the direction of her knobby-kneed teacher.

Open your eyes, Ashamin.

Image Credit


I HAD TO SHEAR OFF OVER 300 WORDS /sobbing

Words: 790/800
A: 2/3
Summary: Ovi flings sand at Shammy with her tail bc she is immobilized by pain C:

Damage Tracker: Maxilla is broken from impact of own fall, skin about lips and nostrils scraped up rough, medium bruise on left side, knees all scraped up and bloody.
NEW DAMAGE: Overexertion of her heart (forced tachycardia), bruised and seized muscles of the chest, some really fun neuralgia


RE: Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Ashamin - 07-26-2016


Ashamin’s eyes were opened long before the small mare tossed her sand. The moment she cried out his gaze turned to her. The same black eyes that so many often struggled to read were wide enough now that his whites could be seen, and in that look he expressed the same cowardice that Ovidius knew to be lurking within the soul he so falsely hoped was brave. If he was to be a monster, could he not at least be a brave one? This was what he told himself when his magic proved to be devastatingly effective, and what he told himself as he hastened to hide the evidence of his low blow.

The manifestation dissipated as quickly as his confidence, and with its parting he vowed to leave magic out of this spar until it was done—and he could only hope that would be soon. Ovidius’ attempt to fling sand at him fell short, but the gesture still held the fire of a fight in it. Only this time she was being smart, and she was doing as he said.

Bolstered by the integrity-filled vow he had taken to not use magic and strengthened by Ovi’s passionate display, Ashamin did his best to not let dark thoughts consume him. He forced Lochan and Rakt to retreat to the sidelines and keep their words out of his criminally susceptible mind, and instead focused on moving forward.

“Good,” he said aloud, though his heart was no longer in the advice. He praised her for keeping her distance as he had suggested (or had he begged?) but given how much he had still hurt her the accolade felt hollow.

“Now…” his voice hitched, his heart stuttered. “Brace yourself. If you see someone coming, get ready to either stand your ground to take the hit if you want to stay in close combat and have the strength left, or to dodge and deliver a quick blow of your own,” Ashamin tried to explain through the muddled mix of his own thoughts and emotions, which seemed to battle for his affection as he basked in the unwanted love of battle. The part of him that was pumping blood faster relished every moment, but somehow it also knew that with every step forward he should turn back. This wasn’t a lesson any more, it was a beating.

For whatever reason, though, Ashamin did not yet give in. He tried to run towards Ovidius in a wide circle, aiming for her left hindquarter with a plan to eventually have his neck outstretched, poised to bite. The only problem was, before he could even possibly reach her, he was cursed with a stab of pain. As his right forehoof sank into the sand he found his stride shortened and delayed, and Ashamin accidentally overextended his left foreleg. The result was a sliding collision, and a clean but throbbing cut made in his right cannon by the sharpened clefts of his left forehoof. The deep red marks were quickly hidden by the electricity that burst from them, but the pain was present and not so easily ignored.

The Clovenheart channeled the hurt into a grunt instead of a cry and paused only for a moment before pushing on, wincing and biting down hard whenever he was forced to put weight on his right—knowing that he would regret moving forward at all when this was done. He could not stop now, though, and use magic to attack. Not after saying he would leave the stuff alone and even this playing field. He had played tough, taught her that not all would go easy, and now he would try to do as little damage as possible.

When he thought he could be close enough he did as planned, reaching out to try and snap at her left hind, just behind the hip. The attack was barely one, and something that in any other context might be read simply as a warning. His right cannon throbbed and he found himself lifting it and curling it, for though the soft surface of the sand didn’t put much pressure on it, he was happier to have it out of the line of any possible fire. Ashamin had hoped to approach her so that he might have his hind angled more towards her front than her back (in an attempt to avoid the possibility of being within striking distance of a buck,) but his positioning was still precarious.

The only thing was, with Ovi so hurt and his only lasting wound self-inflicted and already healing, Ashamin felt a reckless lack of care for his own wellbeing. Let the mare strike him, let her get in the blow she’d failed to so far. He deserved it.

""

Ashamin


WC: 793/800
PC: 3/3, 0/D

Teaching Notes
+Emotion: As before, this was overwhelming in a good way and came through your writing to create an overall wonderful post! Keep up the good work.
-Flow: There were just some spots here and there where I found myself stumbling over sentences and reading them a few times to get what they meant. You’re a very good writer and this isn’t a chronic problem, but it is something that can be very easily fixed with one or two read overs of a post while trying to be as objective about style as possible. I encourage you to make sure you’ve read all sentences closely to make sure they will track clearly and easily for the average reader, since this is something judges are really thinking about and taking into consideration in their rubrics.
-Damage: Once again I think you just took too much here, and perhaps a lot of this is in how you describe it (which is like it's the most painful thing in the world, when it's a 5.) Not to mention you had Ovi fall down on her knees and exacerbate previous injuries, and falling down is a serious sign of submission (were this the end of the fight and had she stayed there, you would have gotten an HP docking.) But yeah, I think you did a great job thinking about the magic and the tachychardia and whatnot, but you then went a bit too extreme. I know you’re probably fighting the urge for dramatics, but especially in a friendly spar it can spiral pretty fast and lead to situations like this, where they want to be friendly but they’re all bloody and everything is awful. I think you could have done without some of your damage and been closer to a 5—as is what you have feels more like a critical hit from his magic. Not to mention that when you overdo damage it seriously hinders what your character can do! You chose to have Ovi do a very minor attack that couldn’t conceivably do much harm, and though it was realistic given her physical and emotional state, less damage would have freed her up to do much more and given you more attack options (and given me more options for taking damage rather than going the self-inflicted route.)
+Magic/Asking Questions: Ashamin’s magics can be hard to understand but you did a good job interpreting it, and you also did a really good thing to ask me OOC what exactly the magic did since you weren’t sure. This ensured that you were able to respond in the best way possible and that I was understood correctly! That sort of cooperation really yields results and makes for a spar that is better for both of us, which is something judges will notice and appreciate. Two sparrers being on the same wavelength is key, so never hesitate to ask questions. That said, if asking for advice, know that you don’t always have to do exactly as the person says (and maybe shouldn’t!) I suggested flinging sand or something and you took me very literally, and didn’t have Ovi attack much at all, really.
~Previous injuries: You did a pretty good job with this, or at least describing how they affected her appearance, but I encourage you to do this even more, especially since she is carrying around high damage injuries that will affect how she moves. Good job though, smart to not have her talk because of her broken maxilla and to have her knees still hurting.


RE: Tide's low [Ovidius v. Ashamin] - Blu - 08-17-2016

Ovidius defaults to Ashamin. Ashamin earns 0.5 VP +2EXP for 2 teaching posts