Gull Poor Rostislav. There he was, enjoying a beautiful day and a nice walk in the woods, when out of the blue a stranger charges at him. Perhaps it is a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps he has simply had the bad luck to run into a madman—because that’s what you look like as you launch yourself across the clearing at him, yelling at the top of your lungs. But just as you have no way of knowing that he isn’t responsible for the misery of your kinsmen, your unsuspecting adversary has no way of knowing that you associate his horns with years of famine, of jagged scars and of jutting ribs. He cannot know that the entirety of your experience with his kind comprises of shadowy monsters picked from survivors’ tales, told bitterly in raspy voices and gurgled from throats knotted with scar tissue, fleshy souvenirs carved by horns not unlike his own. And from the way you’re racing towards him, he cannot be expected to imagine that it’s nothing personal, because it’s not…just, well, it is. All he can possibly surmise is that you don’t like him, and only the gods know why. Of course, as you’re en route to attacking him, you’re not thinking about any of this. Really, you’re not thinking at all; that much would be apparent to any witness who’s watching you attempt to clobber a friendly stranger, completely unprovoked. Thought comes to you slowly enough when you are lucid, but now, it seems as if it has completely deserted you. Pure instinct is what’s driving you to lunge at the horned beast, that and anger. For anger is the only emotion that your body can manage to hold right now, and even that feeling, raw and primitive, cannot be contained. It spills over, clouds your eyes, claws at your muscles, and tears at your soul—you want this devil to suffer, just the way your family did at the horns of his kind. You want him to hurt. Unfortunately, hurt is exactly what you’re going to be in about two seconds if you don’t move fast. You are about to slam into the unicorn head-on when you see the angle of the black spikes on his head. They are wickedly sharp and glittering like obsidian and pointed right at you. Panic rises in your chest as your so-called instinct suddenly decides to abandon ship, screaming at you to do something! on its way out. It’s too late: passion may be on your side, but physics is not. After racing at the stranger from one side of the clearing to the other, by the time you reach the edge where he is standing, momentum will carry you forward no matter what you do. All you can attempt is to throw your weight to his right and pray that you avoid his horns. Maybe if you’re lucky, your shoulder will even ram the smaller stag and knock him off balance. But Lady Luck is a fickle creature, and she’s never seemed to care much for you or your winged brethren. Maybe you should have considered that before you picked a fight. WC: 534 1/3 attacks, 0/1 closing defense Summary: Gull charges blindly at @[Rostislav], consequently noticing the angle of his horns too late. Gull attempts to avoid them by throwing his weight to Rostislav’s right, intending to shoulder him and shove him off balance. Setting: A clearing in the Threshold, early afternoon. Grass footing, which is lush, but not particularly slippery. Trees form a ring around the fighting ground. No magic, no companions. OOC: Hopefully I set this up right—first spar ever, wheeeee ! Rosti's starting position is taken from here: http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=14821 *EDITED TO CHANGE THE PREFIX TO 'JUDGE'* trouble just grew wings |
[JUDGED] Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya...
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Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
07-24-2014, 01:44 AM
Thread Tracker Plot Thread *You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.
08-04-2014, 01:29 AM
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
08-11-2014, 03:06 AM
You know, I thought I was crazy. I've run with the crazies for awhile now, those in the Asylum. But I've never had any mental illness, no cause for worry about me going insane and lashing out at any nearby. Sure, I may be an alcoholic, but I'm certainly not a violent one. And really, I'm quite sound of mine, if I do say so myself. I cannot say the same for this crazy ass pegasus. His mad bellowing and random attack have thrown off my sense of reality. What on earth have I done? This strange creature seems to have lost his marbles and is not even close to locating the very first. I'd pity him, if I had time to think without risking my head getting lopped off. Well, technically he hasn't tried that quite yet. After slamming into my shoulder, he continues past me, and I spin toward him. I see in my peripheral vision that he is headed straight for a tree. Well that's his problem, not mine. That, and clearly this is just more evidence that he is loco en la cabeza. As he retreats I try to strike him with my front hooves, the heavy flints striking out at his pinkish grey flesh. As he swerves to avoid hitting the tree, however, he moves out of the path of my hooves. I curse under my breath in frustration as my limbs plummet to the ground, landing with a hard thud. Luckily the ground is not too hard, so it absorbs some of the shock, and the strain is not too great on my legs. Goddamnit.. who knew the tree would end up assisting the winged beast instead of harming him. Maybe if he'd hit it.. he wouldn't be wheeling on me and attacking me once again. Now it is my turn to face flying hooves. He's quicker on his feet than I might have guessed, and those flints are coming down at my already injured shoulder fast. Just as before, I try to side step out of the way, away from him. It helps a little, but he still makes contact, slicing skin from my shoulder like peeling an apple. I let out a pained hiss as the air meets exposed flesh. In my mind I try to tell myself it's not the worst wound I've ever had, to man up, but that doesn't make it sting any less. I take another step to the side, and his hooves fall from me to the ground just as mine had - except his have been far more successful. What surprises me is that he speaks, or rather, screams at me. This young pegasus accuses me of trying to own him, own everything. Confused as fuck that's what I am. All I want to try is to to not get carved up by this weirdo. I jerk my head back toward him and bellow back, "I'm not trying to own ANYONE!" My voice colored with frustration, and tinted with confusion, if his ears are good enough to catch it. As soon as the words leave my mouth, my body is closing the distance between us. Provided he doesn't manage to escape me again, I hope that my teeth, spread wide, will latch onto his throat, neck - something. I don't really want to mortally wound him, but if I can someone get him to back off, via attack as seems necessary, then I have to do what I have to do. Clearly this child needs someone to help him clear this head, maybe a little therapy. Maybe, maybe, I'd offer to help, but I'm sort of in the middle of defending myself from a lunatic. Can I help myself if I'm really going for the throat? Maybe we can talk this out when I'm sure I'm not at risk of death or serious injury. 646 words @[Gull] Sorry about the wait! Hooves scrape Rosti's already injured shoulder, he attacks Gull with his teeth, going for throat or neck since that's what is closest when Gull lands. Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
Thread Tracker Plot Thread *You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.
08-24-2014, 03:31 PM
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
08-31-2014, 08:12 PM
I swear, I swear I'm not trying to kill him. I just want him to stop trying to kill me. If I thought that he might gain some sanity and stop, I would back off and give the man some breathing space. But he doesn't seem to be able to stop, and of course, defending myself (or attacking, as he sees it) is just proving his point. My teeth do less damage than I'd hope, only pinching his neck, as if I'm kindly giving him a scratch in a hard to reach spot. It's probably for the best though, that he's jumped away. When I pull away, though, I see that his own blood is decorating the once pale neck. When I retreat, I feel blood trickle from the spikes on my face down to the scar that crosses my nasal bone. It rides the ridges, coloring the hairs and the scar tissue, filling crevices. His head still in the air, I can better see that my spikes have torn at the underside of his skull. I wince as I back away from him, thinking to myself that it is an injury that must really hurt, and I don't envy him. As I step back I find myself putting more weight on my left, uninjured side. I groan quietly, under my breath. This young pegasus keeps ramming my same shoulder, and it is taking a toll on my endurance and stability. Even if he has a little more to show for our fight, I think I may be more worse for the wear. He is younger and more agile than I am, with no beer belly to weigh him down. I have no doubt his stamina for another attack, and he doesn't surprise me as he comes at me again. What does - sort of - surprise me is his scream as he moves toward me. 'KILLER!' I shake my head, low to the ground as I feel weariness sweep through me. I grunt at him, just loud enough for his ears to catch. "I'm not." But will he hear me when his ears are buzzing and mind racing with rage? I see red and white flash as he lunges at me, but I'm too slow to prepare myself. The stallion slams into me, and although he hits my better shoulder, I'm already unbalanced and I feel myself thrown off to the side. As my body moves to my right, I try to catch myself, but my right shoulder is too sore and my forelegs buckle I go down to my knees. I scramble to my feet again, cuts on my knees and now my left shoulder is likely to bruise as well. A grunt as I stagger a little, trying to get going again for my last attack. My staggering has put me far enough from the boy that I think perhaps I can pull this off. I sure hope this isn't a stupid idea... I turn slightly and my hindquarters bunch, undamaged muscles tightening in my big ass to lift my back legs into the hair, hooves flying blindly at the pegasus. I hope that his rage somehow slows him or distracts him from my onslaught. If I'm lucky, my hooves may hit his shoulder or his barrel, maybe bruising some muscles or ribs - could I possibly knick a wing? Anything to get this nonsense to stop. As I lash out, I call louder now over my shoulder. "Stop this madness! I'm not what you think I am!" If only we can stop this, perhaps I can explain to him that I'm not a murderer, a killer, trying to own anyone. I've never killed anyone in my life, even being Russian! But he's not really giving me a chance, is he? 631 words @[Gull] Sorry again about the wait :) Rosti gets slammed and because he's off balance, he falls to his front knees. He gets up and staggers to the side away from Gull, then turns a little more to buck and try to kick Gull in the side. Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
Thread Tracker Plot Thread *You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.
09-21-2014, 10:51 PM
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
10-07-2014, 12:56 AM
By my verdict: GULL is the winner!
GULL Realism [+1] :: You are about to slam into the unicorn head-on Careful about statements like this. I know you have to set up the scene somehow, but in the time that Gull is charging Rostislav could have seen him and repositioned himself. :: For in truth, this ugly creature is your first unicorn. Wasn’t even sure what category to put this at first, it just caught me off guard when I read it. After your first post about how much he hated unicorns, I was under the impression he had seen one before. In reading on and checking his history, I see it is otherwise, but that being the case I would have thought him to be less certain that Rostislav was a unicorn upon first seeing him. Just a sort of continuity issue for me. :: throwing your weight back on your hind legs and pitching your front end to his right. Always make sure you’re ‘trying’ to do things in relation to your opponent, not actually doing them. Try to pitch to his right. :: In your final post, I can appreciate that you had to find a way to stop Gull from attacking, but be mindful of the comment about his blood loss causing him to be woozy. An adult horse can lose about 2 gallons of blood before any sort of shock starts to set in, and the small cuts that he got from Rosti shouldn’t have caused that much blood loss. :: I absolutely loved how you took the damage in your final post- I would have liked to see a lot more mention and consideration of his wings throughout the fight. They’re large and bulky, so it’s good to keep them in mind as you write. Emotion [+2] :: Panic rises in your chest as your so-called instinct suddenly decides to abandon ship, screaming at you to do something! on its way out. Funny! Love this. :: I love the way you’ve set up Gull’s emotions and reasons for fighting in the first post and then followed through with this into your second post where he is thinking about how he thought unicorns were huge monsters. Great! :: Your emotion throughout is fantastic- Gull’s constant hatred for crimes that Rosti didn’t commit are fantastically written and portrayed and I can really connect those feelings with Gull’s hectic attacks. Prose [+4] :: There he was, enjoying a beautiful day and a nice walk in the woods, when out of the blue a stranger charges at him. Careful about switching tenses- should be ‘there he is’ :: Well written and easy to read, even in second person. Very good. Readability [+2.5] :: Just had to do a little bit of searching once in reference to him never seeing unicorns before. Otherwise, no comments or concerns. Finally tally: 41 + (9.5*2) = 60HP :: For Gull being such a new character and this being his first fight, I think you did great with him. I think you’ve got a great base to work with. I would spend some time thinking about how to improve your realism score- otherwise, great work! *******************************************
ROSTISLAV Realism [-1] :: Careful about considering timing. With Gull galloping towards Rosti, and Rosti’s large mass, by the time Rosti had realized he’d been hit, recovered and decided to retaliate, and actually got himself reared up, I don’t think that Gull’s hind end would have still been around to hit. :: I’m waiting a little longer to see how his injury actually affected him, but by the end of post 1 I’m thinking Rosti could have taken slightly more damage based on Gull’s roll. :: After slamming into my shoulder, he continues past me, and I spin toward him. Careful about continuity- in your last post Rosti was rearing up at this point. :: As soon as the words leave my mouth, my body is closing the distance between us. Trying to close the distance. :: Rosti got a critical hit- I never saw you take any damage from this, only the damage from Gull. :: The stallion slams into me, and although he hits my better shoulder, I’m confused about how Gull got to the other side of Rosti. I didn’t see in the writing anywhere that Rosti turned in a way that would have facilitated this. :: My staggering has put me far enough from the boy that I think perhaps I can pull this off. Remember, you don’t know how far away from Gull you are- he could have moved. Emotion [+1.5] :: This strange creature seems to have lost his marbles and is not even close to locating the very first. Nice! :: Rosti’s emotions were steady throughout, it’s clear that you know him well and can portray his feelings easily. I think you did a great job with his confusion about Gull’s attacks and accusations and I thought his reactions were fairly realistic to the emotions he would have been feeling. Prose [+3] :: Has he never seen a Rostislav before? Awesome! :: hoping to his his back or flank as he continues on past me. Hit his. :: And really, I'm quite sound of mine, if I do say so myself. Sound of mind. :: I don't really want to mortally wound him, but if I can someone get him to back off, Somehow. Readability [+2.5] :: Had to check around one time to see if I missed something when Gull managed to hit his good shoulder. Otherwise, no comments or concerns. Finally tally: 29 + (6*2) = 41HP :: I’ve seen a lot better writing from you in the past- you seemed to be rushed and a little careless with your writing during this fight. If you’ve written a post but don’t feel like it’s the best you could have done, let it sit overnight and read it again the next day. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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