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02-16-2016, 07:18 PM
EREBOS He was the decoy, listening to her whimper, to her plea, to her whisper through the burns and blemishes. How silly it all felt, how inept and ridiculous to be the one staring mutely along the horizon while Orsino conquered, while Orsino strategized, while Orsino led and unwound the fray. Wasn’t the prince supposed to be the one with the power, strength, and ruses? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with schemes brimming, bristling, unraveling, and embarking across the earth in chaos, in mayhem? Was he lesser, even now? Was he more inadequate than a wily fox? What was he accomplishing out here? All he could do was watch, chained and rooted to the sand; a mere witness to what he’d sown, what he’d wrought, what he’d created. His ears flicked, ensnared all of her words, croons, and pretenses, sending them clattering through his skull – then his eyes widened as Orsino met his mark. The sensation of triumph pervaded through him, but it wasn’t his own. It belonged to the kitsune, conniving and devious, sly and diabolical. The careening notions were eerie and overwhelming, greedy and malicious, a treacherous, unyielding motion into the fox’s psyche, bolstering, blooming, and brewing in a nefarious, demonic haze. The boy saw fire, saw death, saw desecration, saw ruin behind his lids and through his cranium; became drunk on the immorality, on the licentiousness. It fueled him as Ki’irha kicked out against her agony. It incensed him as her hooves met his sable companion’s form, as the little beast screeched in keen, bitter agony. It kindled and pricked, toiled and churned, bloodied and hollowed out the core of his gallantry, of his virtues, of his ethics and heartfelt measures. It rolled over anything good, anything kind, and embraced the viciousness of his passion and ardor. He lost bits and pieces of himself to animosity, to terror, to iniquity (and it was sublime). He didn’t care about control or composure. He didn’t care about what happened to her. He only thought of the black fox, mutiny, and sedition. Even as Orsino rolled across the sand, smarting, wincing, limping along the dunes, the hatred built, the wrath pooled, the contempt boiled deep into the prince’s bones. It coiled amongst his heart and clenched there, stealing his breath and tainting his lungs, forcing him forward, onward, with naught on his features but a narrowed gaze and a clenched jaw. He dragged his frame towards her; intended to meet her somewhere in the middle of their skirmish, a slow fury, an unwinding phantom, a glorified wraith haunting the horizon. His neck bled, his left shoulder ached, and he didn’t care. The only thing propelling him at all was a dastardly, seductive vehemence – he’d been enticed, but not by her charades, not by her ploys and strategies. The temptation, the allure, the beguilement, was all in a staging of abhorrence (how dare she touch his companion, how dare she slink along the grounds and pretend to be something she wasn’t…). Orsino, on the lines of sand, hissed in a feral spit of laughter. About time, kid. But Erebos heard none of it. He was too consumed, too overwrought with the entanglement of blood and ferocity as she came at him, as she sought to obliterate one more time. He was ready. Ki’irha came straight towards him, carving her way over to his left, and he shifted to the right, intending to dodge her passing blow. Still slower, still plagued by sand, height differences, and residual pain, her teeth made a mark, clipping and clenching along the left side of his withers (but it wasn’t anything more than the numbing sensations he’d held before; a brief spark, one more addition to his injuries). But as she maneuvered, as she motioned beside him, intending to collide, to crash, he wanted her to burn in the wake of his ire, in the torch and rubble of his soullessness. While she passed, he tried to turn back towards her, attempted to catch her left hindquarters with his teeth, reaching, reaching, reaching for the embers glistening across his skin and the devastation lingering in his ferocious caress. More, Orsino said. More ruin, more bloodshed, more destruction. The scion surged down deep within his core, and felt the crackle, the bite, the might of his fire, of his fury, surge to meet his vicious desires. His magic swelled, pulsed, pervaded until he was only a blaze, only brimstone, only an inferno, intending to drag her down into ashes, soot, and dust. All it would take was a chance, an opportunity, a touch to have her howling, bellowing, and whimpering all over again. [3/3. 778 words. * Ki’irha kicks Orsino, sending him over to the sidelines with a limp. * As Ki’irha charges towards him, Erebos tries to dodge to the right. Her teeth manage to bite along the left side of his withers, leaving a little mark and sting. * As she passes by, Erebos attempts to turn back towards her, hoping to catch his teeth on the left side of her hindquarters and bite hard, while using his fire magic again. Final Injury Report: * Bleeding laceration on the left side of his neck. * Bruised left shoulder. * Scrape/bite mark on the left side of his withers. * Orsino is limping and smarting from Ki’irha’s kick.] |
@Ki'irha
Teaching Notes:
What Went Well:
Emotions: Gah, Ki’irha. I feel like I know her so much better after this fight. Yaaas. This passage in particular: All she was doing was lying to herself. She did hurt deeper than what touched her skin. Her heart was broken. She was beginning to feel as though she was failing as a corporal. Her father's words, that she was only worth her achievements on the battlefield, jaded the luster of her young heart. The only place she felt alive, felt uninhibited, felt free of her shackles, was upon the battlefield. Her victories were limited, and her teachings few. If she didn't make a difference here, did her presence even matter? But as she continued her injured bird routine, the blue didn't have time to consider her failures. worked well because it kept playing to her weaknesses, her sentiments, all of the things this spar is bringing to fruition. I would have liked to see even more sprinkled throughout her movements and motions. Definitely include all of it in your final defense post.
Setting: I see you using that sand. ;D Great way to incorporate the surroundings in constantly, since the dunes would have a huge impact on their movement, speed, etc.
Pain: You’re constantly mentioning how prior attacks and assaults are affecting her. Right on! I really liked it towards the end: As the fight began to wind down, the corporal could feel her endurance begin to waver. Her sides heaved with heavy breath, and the sweat that filmed over her starry hide mingled with the salted spray of the ocean air. The searing pain in her painfully crooked tail came in waves matching the tempo of those that washed the shore. It showed and manifested how tired, winded, and brutal the fight has been, despite the early, friendly nature (whoops :D).
To Work On:
Clarity: There were some bits and pieces that confused me. For example:
But before she could make it, before she could bury herself into the buck, the teeth she had so narrowly avoided previously were buried into her lashing tail. Was she going to buck at him? Was she bucking at him? How could she before she actually got to him? I noticed you didn’t include it in your summary, so I didn’t use it in my post.
Damage Taking: Now, I thought portions of this were clever. Erebos rolled a 5, meaning you’d have to take a certain chunk of damage, and going for her massive tail seemed acceptable. However, I wouldn’t have left it broken. That would qualify as a 6 roll (or perhaps a critical hit), in my opinion, because of how severe the damage is, and how it can seriously impact her movement (ordinarily I wouldn’t say so, but noting the length and size of Ki’irha’s tail…I gotcha).
And we get this: It was broken, that was for sure, and her balance would certainly suffer.
But then, you don’t go on to explain how her balance suffered as she moved? Would it have hindered her as she shifted towards Erebos?
Grammar: I’m still the nit-picky one. :P I know things slip by, but where grammar still counts for points, I really believe all fighting posts should be heavily edited/revised/read over and over again to ensure mistakes aren’t there. No excuses. ;D
Still, perhaps she still retained some sense of surprise despite the hinderance the kitsune caused. - Should be hindrance.
To Think About: You have your final defense post coming up, and here is where I usually sum up injuries, pain, and how my character feels about the overall performance. Was it their best? What happened to skew her one way or another? How about that tail? ;D
I really enjoyed writing this spar. Thank you so much for the opportunity! <33 Great job!
