"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
He chose the evening to whittle away his time, conjure up bits and pieces of paltry trifles, insignificant drumming, listen to the wind rustle through pine needles, curl ripples through the lake. His eyes drank in the horizon, the colder, effervescent glow of the auroras, of the galaxies, of all the illustrious hues painted across the sky – and he wondered what it would take to become another legend, a bright blistering constellation, dotted amongst the stars. The world could look at him, centuries from now, and see what he’d been, what he’d done, what he’d become (a vicious, marauding warlord, a charming, charismatic deity, a fool only fueled by hatred, by wrath, by vengeance?), want to follow his justified oaths and paths, or distort the measures and find their own.
But goodness, how long was it going to take?
The prince had never been as patient as his father; the Reaper was capable of calculating and delving into machinations for what felt like eons. The boy, however, was too audacious, too bold, in his youth, craving and longing and yearning before the sun rose, pondering how he was to arrive at the next interval of his journey when he hadn’t finished the first. He’d always been that way, since the day of his birth, watching others and hankering, coveting, for what they had. Now, in his mission for retribution, he’d seen strength, power, and domination from other beasts, from other savages, and from friends.
Did they see him in the same light? Was he as powerful? Was he as strong?
Or was he their means to an end?
The thought bristled against his skull, and he let it go with a shaking of his head, a glance to the soil. They wandered further, kitsune and scion, along the folds and openings of the fir and groves, when they caught sight of another –
Ah, Sjal.
The daughter of Psyche’s presence restored a kindling, an incensed ember beginning to burn all over again. What if they were to test each other? What if they were to see which lineage was mightier, more brutal, more savage? The inclination wound a smirk through his lips, entangled its way through his voice, so as he called out to her the suspense, the intricacies, the flares grew, and the wickedness distorted, contorted, along his infernal mind. “Sjal!” He rushed to her side, drenched and draped in midnight canvas, alive and smoldering beneath the madness of twilight and the cool, sharp raptures of a Tallsun evening. “Want to spar?”
[0/3. 422 words. Teaching Spar with Sjal.
Timeline: Normal
Setting: Aurora Basin, evening, near a grove of pine and fir, just yards away from the hot springs. The northern lights are shining overhead.
You may have the first attack!]
To Think About:
* Make sure to set the stage and scene with Sjal. How does she feel about spars? How does she feel about sparring this twit? What fuels her?
* Incorporate the setting from post one.
* Advantages/disadvantages between their size, build, etc. How is this going to affect her attacks, defenses, and movement?
Looking forward to this! :DDDD Thank you for doing it with me!
If anything, the princess was just a tad bit overwhelmed.
Her time with Deimos and Erebos had been nothing if not enlightening, but for a girl who had known her mother for but a short time, their tales had given rise to more questions than they had answered. As a child, Psyche the DarkEmpress had whispered tales not of her own glory, but of her daughter's future - the mare had often spoken of the legacy that lingered for the girl, ripe for the taking, if only Sjal would move to take it. For years after her mother's disappearance and concurrent death, the princess had battled question upon question: just what was her mother's endowment? What was her heritage? Where did she come from? What was there in Helovia for her to claim? As time went on, the girl tried to forget - she tried to leave her mother and the throne that she had wanted for her daughter behind - but each time she seemed about to slip away from the life her mother had planned for her, she found herself right back on its doorstep. She had come to recognize a distinct feeling that there was more to her fate than her own choices - and so here she was.
Even after her history lesson, the princess had many and more questions, queries beyond counting that left her staring into the hot springs with the slightest of frowns upon her muzzle. Ansgar had disappeared into the grove of pine and fir nearby, no doubt hunting for her dinner. The griffin had taken quite nicely to the Aurora Basin, reflecting the comfort that her bonded felt in Psyche's old home. There was something about the cool air that soothed her, something about the beautiful colors dancing across the sky that welcomed her home. Home, the girl thought to herself with amusement. Perhaps we've finally found it.
A voice called her name, triggering recognition: Erebos bounded toward her, appearing out of the gathering darkness by her side. Her puzzled frown was replaced by an easy smile, a twinkle of mischief gathering in her eyes as the prince of the Basin invited her to spar. Her thoughts drifted for a moment to the great mountain that she had fought before - she had not emerged from that battle unscathed, but neither had her opponent. She had learned much from that, and had no doubts that such a training exercise with Erebos would strengthen her further. Besides, her desire to protect those she cared about was one thing that had not dulled since she had arrived in the north. She still remembered Nymeria and the attack that had so changed her friend; though she had not been given details, she had not needed them to see how it had affected the wolf-mare. Such atrocities would not happen on her watch.
But to prevent them, she needed to be stronger.
The girl cast her gaze over the dark prince. He was not as heavily built as her previous opponent, so she would be unlikely to out-maneuver him. But that just made it more of a challenge, didn't it? With a sweet smile, Sjal batted her lashes at him almost flirtatiously, trying not to telegraph her intentions - and then, suddenly, she spun away from him, ducking her head and kicking up forcefully with her hind legs towards his shoulder. She didn't have a specific target in mind; her movement was meant to be an answer to his question more than anything. Still, she wanted to make some sort of contact, and so she had kicked towards the fleshy part of his shoulder in the hopes that if she missed, she would connect with his neck or barrel.
"Let's go, then," she taunted playfully over her shoulder as she tried to canter a few steps away from him to give herself more room to move.
"Talk." --Ansgar.--
[1/3. 645 words.]
OOC | Well, I officially took forever and I'm sorry /dies (P.S. moving to a new house sucks) @Erebos
Pixel by Reli <3
Please tag Själ in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Under the burning beacons of the aurora horizon, Erebos realized he knew very little about the girl before him – her experiences, her triumphs, and her failures. She could’ve been stronger than him, mightier than him, capable of waging war and staging assaults. She could’ve been a demon on the battlefield, wielding her sword with incredible power, with overwhelming ease, and a sense of apprehension coiled down his spine. It was small, minute, cast aside in little pockets, a shudder on the breeze, an undulation of muscles, quivering just beneath his skin, because the boy remembered a time he’d underestimated his opponent.
He’d been soundly beaten and throttled.
But his eyes didn’t see a bear jaw, chomping and consuming, aligned over her features, and the world didn’t hiss or plunge them into a savage fury. His eyes didn’t see Ashamin, abashed and ashamed, standing over him and pretending, lying, to save the scion’s follies. If he had managed to pick another practice partner far more skilled than he, than the prince would accept it, learn from it, and covet the sagacity, the wisdom, proffered from such a venture.
Then, later on, try not to be so bitter about it.
Studying her, haphazardly in the moonlight, through the murky depths, along the intertwining dusk and the pallet of bright hues, they could’ve been quite similar. She may have been faster, he more agile, a warrior’s body sculpted from bloodlines and training, and it would be interesting to see which would conquer the other – a combination of death and rain, or the DarkEmpress’ heir coming to play court?
She batted her eyelashes, and thereafter, her motions seemed to come all at once. While he wasn’t about to be played by feminine wiles or coy munitions (he’d fought Ki’irha after all), they were still mildly confusing and bewildering below the midnight canvas and twilight outlines. The princess spun, throwing her hind legs out towards him, and even with Orsino’s mad cackles and shouts across their connection (Move, you little fool!), he didn’t have enough time to completely turn away from her sudden frenzy.
He maneuvered to the right, and felt the sting, the grazing, of her hooves glancing off his left shoulder. It smarted, a singular force coiling against his mind, but it wasn’t a torrent, a siege, meant to debilitate or massacre. It would likely bloom into a maddening bruise, reminding him of its presence between each movement.
The boy could see where their lines would be drawn now – easygoing, not disastrous, not plunging into ruin, not displaying, composing, or orchestrating every sinister sentiment layered between their machinations. It made more sense to him this way. He didn’t hate her. He didn’t despise her. He didn’t want to crush her with the weight of his anger, with the height of his fury, or with the rancorous fringes of his ferocity. She didn’t deserve it.
Not yet, the kitsune answered, lurking somewhere in the darkness, a bewitching, immoral promise slinking and slithering through the void.
Erebos chased after her, blending into the folds of colors and desolation, smiling, amused, unsettled, charmed, and twisted by the invocations of their upcoming feud. He attempted to slide towards her left (but with her swifter speed and his aching shoulder, the lad wasn’t sure how successful the strategy would be), extending his neck and lowering his cranium, reaching out with his teeth, trying to snatch and grab at her left side, along her back and loins.
Would he know more of her now? Would she show him the tenacity of Psyche’s spirit? Or would she fall under the same faults and flaws as her mother, plucked, scarred, and fallen away from all the glories she once held? Would she be worthy of a crown, of a throne, of a sovereignty layered in ice and history?
Anything was possible, he thought to himself, the same grin still traced over his lips.
[1/3. 652 words.
* As Sjal kicks out, she ends up grazing Erebos’ left shoulder. It hurts, and may impact his speed throughout the spar.
* Erebos attempts to chase after Sjal, trying to draw up along her left side, intending to bite at her back and loins.]
Teaching Spar Notes: Ack, first of all, sorry about the long wait! What Went Well: Emotions: I thought you captured Sjal’s overwhelmed moments really nicely here. She’s been bombarded by a lot of information, history, and all sorts of things about her mother recently, and to add something else on top of her plate must be a little daunting. This portion, in particular: What was her heritage? Where did she come from? What was there in Helovia for her to claim? As time went on, the girl tried to forget - she tried to leave her mother and the throne that she had wanted for her daughter behind - but each time she seemed about to slip away from the life her mother had planned for her, she found herself right back on its doorstep. She had come to recognize a distinct feeling that there was more to her fate than her own choices - and so here she was. was great. Sjal has always been quiet and reserved – and to know there’s a lot more brewing under the surface is great! I also liked the mentioning of previous battles and motivations. You tied them neatly together here: Her thoughts drifted for a moment to the great mountain that she had fought before - she had not emerged from that battle unscathed, but neither had her opponent. She had learned much from that, and had no doubts that such a training exercise with Erebos would strengthen her further. Besides, her desire to protect those she cared about was one thing that had not dulled since she had arrived in the north. She still remembered Nymeria and the attack that had so changed her friend; though she had not been given details, she had not needed them to see how it had affected the wolf-mare. Such atrocities would not happen on her watch. They make sense. Why else would she want to practice sparring? She wants to take care/protect those that mean something to her – which is great growth and development from a character who used to not care about anyone or anything around her! Build: You touched very briefly on their similarities and differences in build (it is funny to see how close they are!): The girl cast her gaze over the dark prince. He was not as heavily built as her previous opponent, so she would be unlikely to out-maneuver him. which hopefully will lead you to future use. Things to Work On: Surroundings: I didn’t see a lot of scenery mentions. They’re currently fighting at night, with the aurora borealis above, so you need to bring that into consideration when you’re writing. Can Sjal see where Erebos is? Are the lights distracting or helpful? How can she use the darkness to her advantage? How can you incorporate the scenery during attacks or damage taken? Directions: While you left the attack open and vague for me, I still would like to see some direction use. Did she kick towards his left? Towards his right? His front? His side? You utilized ‘shoulder’, which was helpful, but I like to know where YOUR character is in relation to mine. It makes it so much easier for your opponent to figure out where everyone else is in space. If I have to guess/choose, sometimes mechanics and movements can get a little hazy. Don’t be afraid to be direct. For example, you could say Sjal tried to kick out towards his left shoulder, and everything would be fine. You’ve still given me the freedom of deciding where the attack will be going (since you used tried or some other form to indicate this is not powerplay), and I’m aware of where your character is…roughly. ;D Things to Think About: Damage Taking (if any – dice rolls :3): Really decide how you’re going to take any damage. It could be from Erebos’ attack, but you could also use the surroundings to your advantage – tripping, fumbling around in the darkness, accidentally hitting a tree, etc. There are all kinds of possibilities! Companion Use: Will Ansgar be showing up? How will Sjal feel about her companion fighting? Emotions: Keep layering them on! How does she feel if/when she’s hit? How does she feel about the spar as they get deeper and deeper into it? Hope this helps!
He was stronger than she was. Of that, Själ was sure.
Perhaps 'stronger' wasn't really the proper term. Erebos was just... more. He was more experienced than she, he'd had more training, he'd had more support as he'd grown into the warrior that challenged her tonight. When she looked upon his dark, muscled hide and glinting, mischievous eyes, the princess found herself lacking.
If she'd been any other young mare, she might have taken a moment (as she batted her lashes almost flirtatiously at him) to enjoy the view. He was handsome in a dark, brooding way; and besides that, he was the prince of the Aurora Basin. Power pooled around him in an almost tangible way. Had she the mentality of anyone else, she might have imagined what a pairing between the two of them could mean. The daughter of Psyche the DarkEmpress and the son of Deimos the Reaper? They would be unstoppable.
But Själ was not any other mare, and though she might acknowledge the appeal of the stallion before her - or, more truthfully, the allure of what he could give her - she would know, deep in her soul, that she would not pursue it. She would make her own way, create her own name and image. She would not rely on anyone else to do it for her.
And so it was that their spar began.
A momentary satisfaction took hold as she felt her hooves meet flesh. In at least some regard, she thought she had managed to surprise him, and it had been his momentary hesitation that had allowed her to hit her mark. As she cantered away from his left side, a smirk lit her face as she tossed the taunt - "Let's go then." - over her shoulder. It was in that moment that she realized that moving away from a pitch black stallion in the dead of night with only the light of the aurora borealis to guide her might not have been the smartest move. She had been able to see him when they had been standing close enough to touch, but now the darkness and his location made it challenging to spot the prince. Her ears flicked back, picking up the sound of his hoofbeats as he followed her, but she was unable to spot him behind her with her peripheral vision.
Smart, she thought as she pushed herself into a gallop. The stallion was using the blind spot directly behind her paired with the night's kiss to hide himself, even if he did so unwittingly. As the mare ran, she twisted her head to the left, trying to get a clearer view of where the stallion was. Surprise lifted her brows and had her ducking to the right as she realized how close he was. She had allowed him to get far too close, and as her haunches lowered and her head ducked down, her body slowed (Stupid!) and pivoted to the right at a perpendicular angle to the stallion's trajectory. The movement allowed him to catch up as she turned, and she felt the sting of his teeth graze across her croup.
Instinctively, she kicked up with her hind legs again. She had probably recovered too slowly to aim for his head or neck, as his momentum had likely carried him even closer to her as she had turned; she hoped instead to hit his chest or perhaps his right shoulder. Hell, she would even take a leg if it meant she would get enough time to strategize and recoup. She just wanted enough time to get out of his range and twirl to face him.
She'd never win if he managed to stay behind her like this.
Her rump stung. The momentum with which he had approached after she had (idiotically) slowed to try and turn away had ensured that the bite would bruise more than it would bleed (though it would do that, too). He hadn't really been trying to hurt her, just as she hadn't been trying to hurt him. Still, there was an innate challenge in their spar, as though the outcome would decide who was more deserving of their similar lineage.
He’d promised to show her things: purpose, ambition, power. He was torn, however, by how to do so, because a part of him wanted the method to be by demonstration, where he never yielded or relented. Then she’d be able to understand what might was, when it clambered through his muscles and along his fury, when it intertwined along his skull and amidst his veins, when it haunted and threatened, when it pulsed and pervaded. The boy was a piece of the devil, of the Reaper, living and breathing vengeance, seeing determination in blades and scars, relishing each and every opportunity to scorch and menace, take and grasp.
Then, there was his little gallant heart threading through the muck and the mire, beating a silly, whimsical crescendo, aiming for practice, perfection, and perseverance. He endeavored towards their safety, their resolutions, their tidy skirmish proffering guidance and support.
The scion could’ve sworn he heard Orsino sigh through his machinations, bored with all the deliberations.
Still, he pursued, he hunted, he laughed, enjoying himself through all the bestial shades and the overwhelming darkness, chasing after her like a soulless heathen. The merriment ceased almost immediately – a chuckle ended on a crackling gasp as her hooves managed to strike at his right shoulder. His senses were seized, eyes watering, head spinning, at the gnashing, echoing pain pounding through his skull and right limb. Orsino’s haunting hiss became a poignant din in the background (Let me, let me).
Erebos nearly gave in to the chants, to the thundering tides of kitsune wiles and barbed kicks. But he’d known pain before – he’d fumbled and stumbled, folded and sobbed when he thought he’d lost it all – and he wouldn’t succumb to the flights of other cretins (but lord, his body ached).
It would take some cunning, some strategy, to ensure any semblance of victory.
The lad’s eyes narrowed, squinting into the distance, where the lighter, paler outline of her head, her horns, seemed to have strayed even further away (he’d been too busy being bruised and mottled to even think of following). They picked up on the landscape, on the soft, warm puffs of the hot springs nearby, towards the girl’s right, and thought he might have had a chance…
Only then did he allow Orsino’s presence within the area, slithering through the tall grass, pinpointed towards Sjal’s left side. The youth followed suit, hoping the fox could blend into the surroundings, into the darkened folds, while Erebos proved a larger distraction, a target, while the kitsune slid into their Stygian abyss. The soldier’s movements and motions were much slower; both shoulders were marred and bruised, only allowing him to do any bidding because of his monstrous will and tenacity.
It was always the same way: he simply refused to give in.
His grin was a little lopsided now, crumbling from aches and pains, but he still marched, intending to come upon her left side in an almost driving force, lunging as best he could (ginger steps, holding back an abrupt wince) towards her left shoulder, teeth snatching, grasping for flesh, while Orsino snapped at her left hind leg. Perhaps they would end up committing to the exact calculation he had in mind and she’d flee, away, away, away, straight into the desired mark.
Would she fall for it? Would she panic and flail, dart and run? Or was she far too clever, could feel Psyche’s schemes in the darkness, in the haunting dusk, beating down power with stratagems and tactics? He’d never met the girl’s mother, but could feel the way the earth shifted, whispered about legacies and heritage – death and asps, Empresses and scythes - and wondered if he could have conquered or been laid to waste by the former Queen.
Perhaps Sjal would rise and be more, more than her dam ever was. In between the wounds, the scars, and his own avaricious ambitions, he’d like to see her try. Maybe then his assurances and promises wouldn’t be for naught.
[2/3. 667 words.
* Sjal nails him squarely in the right shoulder with her kick, ensuring some significant bruising. Both shoulders now ache prominently, and has slowed him down considerably.
* Erebos tries to come along her left side, hoping to drive her towards the right (and towards the hot springs), intending to bite at her left shoulder.
* Orsino does the same, snapping at her left hind leg.]
* Directions: Ah, thank you so much for heeding my advice! It was a lot easier to understand where Sjal was in respect to Erebos, and I could figure out battle mechanics, where to try and place my attacks, and where your attacks could be placed out. This portion: Instinctively, she kicked up with her hind legs again. She had probably recovered too slowly to aim for his head or neck, as his momentum had likely carried him even closer to her as she had turned; she hoped instead to hit his chest or perhaps his right shoulder. Hell, she would even take a leg if it meant she would get enough time to strategize and recoup. She just wanted enough time to get out of his range and twirl to face him. was clear and concise, didn’t involve PPing, and was very easy to understand. That’s exactly what you want to do for your opponent and for your judges.
* Surroundings: I thought you did this a lot better than the previous post. It was in that moment that she realized that moving away from a pitch black stallion in the dead of night with only the light of the aurora borealis to guide her might not have been the smartest move. She had been able to see him when they had been standing close enough to touch, but now the darkness and his location made it challenging to spot the prince. Her ears flicked back, picking up the sound of his hoofbeats as he followed her, but she was unable to spot him behind her with her peripheral vision. was a clever way of utilizing the scenery and some of her lack of experience. I think you could incorporate some of the surroundings even more now with her attacks, defenses, tactics, etc. How can she use them to her advantage? She’s dark-colored as well. ;D
* Emotions: I still really like those little touches of Psyche, and where Sjal feels she’s lacking. Other parts I enjoyed were She would make her own way, create her own name and image. She would not rely on anyone else to do it for her. and Still, there was an innate challenge in their spar, as though the outcome would decide who was more deserving of their similar lineage.
She didn't intend to come out on the bottom.
I think you could take it even further though – this post didn’t feel as emotionally laden as the previous one. Don’t forget her motivations or what she aspires to do.
Things to Work On:
* Pain: I thought it was a weird time to place how she felt about the bite. While you certainly pointed out where she was hit, I think I would’ve used it to show the effects of her movements as they were happening. You could’ve moved this paragraph: Her rump stung. The momentum with which he had approached after she had (idiotically) slowed to try and turn away had ensured that the bite would bruise more than it would bleed (though it would do that, too). in between the one where she felt the sting, and the one where she begins to kick out. To me it would make more sense with timing.
To Think About:
* Residual Pain: Its much more believable if you continue mentioning the pain from previous attacks. Do they cause her fatigue? Do they keep slowing her down? How does this make her feel?
* Emotions: Like I said above, keep utilizing them! Don’t be afraid to dig in deep – what hurts, what hinders, what inspires her to keep going.
There was something of a promise lingering in the air between the two dark souls, but a promise to whom?
They had each sworn something to the other, of course, but it was more than that: their silent vows and secret oaths were with the land itself, the icy tundra that encased them and protected them from everything that lingered outside. Their promises were to their ancestors, to ancient kings and queens who had ruled everywhere but here. I will be more than this, they screamed, desperately grasping, clawing their way into history in an effort to earn their place alongside her mother and his father, never even really knowing exactly what that meant.
But that was what it meant to follow in a parent's footsteps, wasn't it? The inner workings of Psyche the DarkEmpress had never been hers to know, but it hadn't stopped her from yearning to stand atop the pedestal that the queen had made just for her.
Själ would never be a dark empress, would never be an ice queen in the way that her mother before her had been. She was too warm, too open, too trusting in a way that Psyche had never been. And she would never know that, because she had never known the cunning wiles of the Basin's Lady, had never witnessed the sly machinations of a despot on an war path, had never been granted access to the tyrant's innermost desires. (Kill them all, the filthy creatures, unclean with their barren brows and strange appendages -)
What she didn't know would never hurt her, and she strove instead for something more. She would be something worthy of admiring, someone to follow not simply out of fear, but out of adoration. But above all (and this was important, for it defined the driving force behind the girl even now), she would be a protector of those who needed it, of the weak and the strong, of the big and the small. No more would she stand idly by and watch those she loved perish - never again would she linger outside the walls, only to come in and realize that her world had been left in tatters, her family gone (again, never again).
So even as the bite on her rump continued to twinge unpleasantly, she drew further away from Erebos until she was finally able to twirl around and face the dark prince (or, rather, where she thought he'd last been). It took her a moment, her breath clouding the air in sharp, misty puffs, to local the stallion, who was coming towards her again, this time from her left. It was too late by then to turn towards him, however intent she might have been on facing the threat head-on. Erebos lunged for a bite on her shoulder; Själ twisted to her right in a successful attempt to avoid his bruising teeth.
Unfortunately, she had forgotten about his companion. The kitsune's teeth, brutal and angry, sliced through the thin layer of flesh covering her left hind cannon. A shriek of pain and rage split the night air - she hadn't expected companion to join the fight, or she would have called Ansgar back sooner - as she skipped further to the right, trying to move sideways and forwards at the same time. The princess was suddenly aware of the hot springs on her side, and irritation hissed through her teeth as she realized she was pinned down at the water's edge. Worse, no matter what she did, her left hind would continue to bleed steadily, aching and gushing with the increased pressure of each step.
Well, you know what they say - if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Ansgar could be sneaky, too.
The griffin, who had felt the battle begin, arrived on silent wings above. She circled to get her bearings, trying to use the scant light from the aurora and the stars to pinpoint her target. Once settled on a route of attack, the creature dropped into a dive, attempting to remain as stealthy as possible, trying to latch her darkness-covered, strength-draining talons into the stallion's shoulders. Själ, moving as quickly as her injured leg would allow (and hoping that Erebos's injuries would leave them on equal footing in regards to speed), attempted to distract her opponent by turning the ninety degrees towards his dark shape and lunging towards the front of his right shoulder, teeth bared. If he didn't move, she would try to bite his shoulder in approximately the same place she had kicked earlier as Ansgar attempted to sneak in an attack from above.
If neither had been so furtive, so conniving, or so caught up in their own wiles and motivations, they might have realized how vastly similar they truly were. The parallels were beyond lineage and footprints of their forefathers, were more than just shadowed bits of legacies, what they’d become and where they’d go. Both had an intricate core, a system of values and aspirations, leading them down uniformed paths – but what they’d do with it, what they’d achieve, and how far they’d go to grasp power, valor, and might was where their trails likely changed course.
Erebos didn’t know how deep Sjal’s passions drove. He didn’t know the lengths she’d wander to become more than her mother. The boy could only comprehend the pieces holding him together – the cunning, the machinations, and the summits he strived to climb. His aspirations had never been about ruling, standing over subjects, commanding and demanding brutal forces to carve annihilation across vast empires. He didn’t encourage anyone to follow his endeavors. His wants, needs, and desires had always been pinned on his strength, on his tenacity, on his determination and fortitude – how strong could he become, how much more could he endure, how much farther could he roam? Every skirmish, every practice, was a stepping-stone.
What was it for her?
Perhaps it was a chance to become one with the legends of their past – for she was like a snake, twisting away from his snapping jaws, avoiding the gnashing of his teeth. He laughed throughout, winked, smiled, and grinned at her abilities, at the shrewd, astute pieces of her soul emerging from within. But she couldn’t avoid Orsino and his kitsune convictions, his cruel, mercenary fangs, and Erebos felt himself wincing at her shriek of pain and contempt.
The sable fox, unholy vermin that he was, growled in heathen satisfaction. That’s how it’s done!, he chuckled through their connection, and the prince shook his head, irritated and irked for some inexplicable reason (maybe because he’d asked the monster for assistance, and actually received it in spades, apathy, and enmity). Still, a little spark of him was pleased, content, satisfied for the moment that they’d pushed her closer towards the springs, where the water wafted with a pleasant curl, extending an invitation –
Griffin! came Orsino’s shrill vocals across their bond (the cretin’s eyes made for sharper clarity in the darkness), and Erebos barely had an instant to catch his breath, to race forward (and still not fast enough, not swift enough – his limbs protested each movement with a painful rasp and a feral growl tore through his throat). He managed to dodge the silent, outstretched talons, felt the smallest brush of a wing alongside his withers, and lifted his head just in time to see Sjal had maneuvered closer.
His shoulders were in absolute agony as he tried to ripple, swerve, and change course to the left, attempting to avoid the infernal wake of her jaws. Maybe by divine luck, intervention, or providence, the click of her teeth never closed over his skin, never relished or tasted his flesh.
The warrior’s eyed widened slightly in shock and surprise, momentarily bewildered by the notion that he’d managed to avoid both of her assaults. But he couldn’t let the occasion pass without some counter-measure, and his stare, cunning as ever, took in their whereabouts (still near the water, he presumed through the shadows and gloom). Erebos grasped one sharp inhale, a breath of determination, of resolution, before launching towards her again, intending to use whatever strength he had left to push against her right side, to ram, slam, his frame into hers. The youth’s body shuddered, seared, seethed in response, in pain, in anguish, but he continued on – striving, hoping, trying to shove her enough so she’d be pressed against the springs (or even better, fall into its contents), and have nowhere to run.
Perhaps they’d be too similar again, and neither would go anywhere. Perhaps they’d be struck even, builds too alike, structures too comparable. Perhaps his strength would wane, perhaps her endurance would hold, and perhaps all he’d be able to do at the end was smile, laugh, and promise her another lesson in the future.
[3/3. 701 words.
* Orsino spots the griffin and Erebos moves forward to avoid Ansgar’s talons.
* As Sjal bites towards his right shoulder, Erebos maneuvers to the left and dodges her attack.
* Erebos attempts to come along her right side and ram her towards the hot springs – hoping to push her into them.
Final Injuries:
* Grazed left shoulder
* Severely bruised right shoulder – greatly impeded his speed and mobility.]
Teaching Notes: I really, really, really enjoyed your last post. :D What Went Well: * Emotions: Oh, the emotions! They were everywhere and I loved reading them. You continued to explain her motivations, what drove her on, and how she was in comparison to Psyche. You really conveyed what was going on in this girl’s mind, and I LOVED it. I’ve found sparring these two really interesting because they both have similar concepts and ideals, but were born from two very different beings, and it’s sort of reflected in their ambitions. While Sjal doesn’t want to take after her mother, there are still bits and pieces of her that come out (I see your companion and I raise you draining-clutch! ;D). Some portions I loved were: They had each sworn something to the other, of course, but it was more than that: their silent vows and secret oaths were with the land itself, the icy tundra that encased them and protected them from everything that lingered outside. Their promises were to their ancestors, to ancient kings and queens who had ruled everywhere but here. I will be more than this, they screamed, desperately grasping, clawing their way into history in an effort to earn their place alongside her mother and his father, never even really knowing exactly what that meant. Because, mmph, accuracy for the win! And this: Själ would never be a dark empress, would never be an ice queen in the way that her mother before her had been. She was too warm, too open, too trusting in a way that Psyche had never been. And she would never know that, because she had never known the cunning wiles of the Basin's Lady, had never witnessed the sly machinations of a despot on an war path, had never been granted access to the tyrant's innermost desires. (Kill them all, the filthy creatures, unclean with their barren brows and strange appendages -) Here is where we see a lot of Sjal, because she isn’t her mother, because she never knew what her mother was doing, planning, or plotting, and so she doesn’t have that measure of cruelty on the surface. I’m intrigued to where you plan on taking her, and if she’ll ever be pushed to that level of brutality. Directions: I thought you handled these pretty well, and I could figure out where Sjal and Ansgar were in space. Attacks: They made sense to me! I even enjoyed the bit with Ansgar, because it emphasized and highlighted Sjal’s train of thought. The griffin, who had felt the battle begin, arrived on silent wings above. She circled to get her bearings, trying to use the scant light from the aurora and the stars to pinpoint her target. Once settled on a route of attack, the creature dropped into a dive, attempting to remain as stealthy as possible, trying to latch her darkness-covered, strength-draining talons into the stallion's shoulders. Själ, moving as quickly as her injured leg would allow (and hoping that Erebos's injuries would leave them on equal footing in regards to speed), attempted to distract her opponent by turning the ninety degrees towards his dark shape and lunging towards the front of his right shoulder, teeth bared. If he didn't move, she would try to bite his shoulder in approximately the same place she had kicked earlier as Ansgar attempted to sneak in an attack from above. Of course Sjal would want to use her companion in retaliation, and had the dice rolls been kinder, I think it would’ve been awesome to have had Erebos drained of some of his power. The timing was good, and I wasn’t confused at any point. To Work On: Grammar: This was a very well written post, and I could tell that you took your time in adding some significant details and characterization. However, there were a couple errors that needed to be fixed. It’s very nit-picky, but everything counts! A shriek of pain and rage split the night air - she hadn't expected companion to join the fight, or she would have called Ansgar back sooner- I think you meant a companion but it was left out by mistake. It took her a moment, her breath clouding the air in sharp, misty puffs, to local the stallion, who was coming towards her again, this time from her left. Instead of local, I think you wanted locate. Make sure to proofread! Simple spelling checks won’t catch everything. Your eyes won’t either, but reading it aloud to yourself helps catch some awkward wording. You can always come back to it at a different time too, when your mind is a bit fresher and you notice some minor things. To Think About: You’re now coming up on your defense post. Here are some things to take into account: * The critical miss: Ugh, lord, don’t these suck. You can come up with some little things that gave her some pain: tripping, stumbling, etc. Make sure you don’t have her fall down, faint, or any of that, since we received a notice about battles from the admin (if your character runs away, faints or falls asleep in any post prior to and including the closing defense, a penalty will be deducted from your final score.). * Defenses: What would make sense? Does she go into the water to get away from him? Does she run forward to stay out of the hot springs? A lot of this will depend on the dice roll, but hopefully nothing too damaging will occur. * Pain: Include how she feels at the end of the battle and what her injuries consist of. Is she battered and bruised, tired and fatigued? * Emotions: How does she feel upon completing the battle? Does she hate Erebos’ guts? :D Have her motivations changed? Does she feel inspired, successful, etc.? I loved sparring with you! Thank you for the great opportunity! It was fun!
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
