| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
He always told himself to be careful in spars amongst his brethren.
The Reaper was a caustic balance of control and composure, but violence brewed too far into his blood and his bones to ever be fully swayed. He’d fought alongside his fellow leaders and spurned the pain they’d caused him with assaults and demolitions of his own. He’d watched them falter, glare, and grate against his senses because he should’ve been capable of restraining his ferocious, vile nature.
Would that happen again? Would he be forced to curb and limit his devilish tendencies? Or would he have to lecture her on holding back upon compatriots?
He narrowed his eyes, watched her accept the invitation to skirmishes – not a battle, not a campaign, but practice (what he told his heart and soul and all the vile incantations layered between).
What she did, however, was so unexpected, so utterly bizarre to him that all thoughts, all sentiments towards constraint were disregarded. She came at him much like a child did with their mother, a foal bounding with limbs akimbo and splayed over their dam’s withers, gangly, awkward, young, fresh, and foolish. Why anyone would try to do it to him befuddled the cretin.
Was this all she’d seen? Was this how she thought soldiers fought? Was this what she’d watched from battlefields and crusades? His mind was overwrought with confusion, spiraling against his Machiavellian ruminations, having nothing to conquer the oddity of the moment except a widening of his eyes and a slackening feature of his jaw. He didn’t reign in acrimony or defiance, but in utter disbelief.
Mystified and irked, irritated and exasperated (because hugging didn’t happen in fights – or anywhere in his jurisdiction), he attempted to pull away from her reaching hooves, retreating in the soft abyss of snow.
But perhaps she was too fast, and he’d been too slow-witted, because her chest knocked into his and his lungs seized with a shortness of breath, a binding, unwinding blemish of pain and anarchy. He gasped urgently, nearly panicking from the lack of oxygen, trying to regain the lost sensation of air surging through his nares. The beast attempted to raise himself higher and higher, where she couldn’t clamber or climb. But his senses were riddled and mired, and the bearing of her weight suddenly across his withers didn’t allow him to escape.
Was he to be trapped by an embrace?
Frustration swept across his features, brows furrowed, and rage enacted amidst his eyes while his wild, vicious figure was being pulled down into purgatory by some ridiculous female.
This wasn’t practice. This was foolishness.
Her teeth bit at his left cheek and poll and removed hair. Her hooves scraped along the left side of his withers, leaving remnants of pelt and quick, blunt, brutal marks of blood behind. The sparks of pain, the ridiculousness of the situation (was she trying to make a fool of him?), sparked and incensed the vehement coils of his skull, and so, instead of pulling away, instead of embarking on a retreat, he pushed.
The footing didn’t allow the full brunt of his power, he could feel his hooves dig in and then slip (reaching for something not quite there, nothing firm, nothing compacted). Her weight along the front of his frame didn’t help either, but he’d had enough of the silly, juvenile games and the sensation of ineptitude. Tangere’s education would start now.
He caught his breath, lowered himself, and tried thrusting his brawny, muscular frame towards her, hoping to ram his left shoulder into her right one, yearning to throw her off balance, to parry her away from her strange siege. As they broke apart, he felt her hooves scrape one last time, down the length of his withers and elongating a long bloody laceration behind the curve of his shoulder and down towards his elbow. The pain was expected, compressing his mind to singular sensations and motions, gestures and movements, fueling more and more rage into his already churning mind. The soreness was already there, throttling and eager, keen and vehement.
But he wasn’t lost yet. He hadn’t flickered away from control – but the warning was there, warring and toiling amidst his calculations.
[1/3 702 words.
* Tangere’s chest collides into Deimos’, leaving him short of breath.
* Her teeth bite along his left side – cheek and poll – removing hair. Her hooves scrape along the left side of his withers, removing more hair and cutting away into some of his skin.
* Deimos attempts to dig into the snow and thrust his weight/body towards her, hoping to knock her away from him and off balance. While doing so, her hooves scrape against him one more time, leaving a long laceration (left side) down the length of his withers, behind his shoulder, and down along his elbow.]
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Teaching Notes:
Well, that was unexpected! :D
What Went Well:
* Emotions: I really liked the way you played Tangere’s thoughts before the spar here. Especially at this point: She is the hare that, just begging to be caught. A gnarly, wily and fat little hare, but in Deimos' shadow she's a hare all the same. So what is he, a wolf? Ah, no, much more demon than mortal, she assumes. A wolf would never do justice in describing him. - Because she’s aware of what danger she’d possibly getting herself into, but seems ready for it all the same.
I also liked this part: If she were collected, wise or at all experienced she would know to calculate things like the terrain, the temperature and how thin is the air today, is it going to snow – things of this nature. She does not take her environment into account, but instead skips straight to the subject of her opponent. - It truly hones in on how Tangere is inexperienced and doesn’t look around, or realize, how there are many aspects to a spar/battle.
* Surroundings: I thought you did this important aspect of spars very well. You mention the snow and how the terrain could impact her movement. Think about that throughout the fight, utilize it in every post, and describe how the terrain could give her troubles or help her progress. Is she slipping? Is she using it to her advantage?
To Work On:
* Attacks: Not going to lie, I have not seen that move used before (unless we’re watching foals play around with their mothers). I liked the aspect of Tangere biting at his face, poll, etc., because that’s definitely something horses do, but curling her leg around his withers curbed the realism point for me. I used the movement in my post because Tangere rolled a 6 (and critical damage), so I had to utilize quite a bit of her actions.
I urge you to think about the differences in height, weight, breeding, etc. Deimos is almost a hand taller than her, which could make an impact in legs flying and curling over withers, etc.
I would take some time and look at how horses fight (either in play or actual, brutal fights – I’m sure there are some videos available). Since this is just a spar, I wouldn’t be trying to stab or flay your opponent, but ponder over what horses really do: bite at faces (check!), kick out, bump, and so on.
* Directions: I had to make up my own, so please, please, please indicate which side you’re aiming for, where Tangere is going, etc. I’m a big fan of honing in on left, right, using big spaces of the horse’s body (hind, shoulder, barrel), so it gives an opportunity for the other roleplayer to figure out how they want to take an attack and how to defend themselves.
* Grammar: You have a couple fragments and some weird wording, so disregard if you did it intentionally/stylistically. Here were a few that caught my eye:
Those full moon eyes dreamily closed and unaware of his approach in the soft golden light of the Aurora morning. - Should be something like remained unaware of his approach.
She is the hare that, just begging to be caught. - The that is in a strange position You could write the sentence as: She is the hare just begging to be caught, and the that becomes superfluous. :D
Make sure to proofread, proofread, proofread. Read over your post out loud to yourself. Run it through a Word document (this isn’t going to catch everything, but it can spot some glaring errors your eyes may have glanced over). Come back to it at another time and reread again.
To Think About:
* Attacks/Defenses/Dice Rolls: Think about how you’re going to have Tangere react to Deimos’ attack (if it hits, lord only knows with these dice rolls :D). Think about how much damage has been caused and how you can take it. Ponder over the dice roll damage scale (1-6 – 1 being the lowest, 6 being the highest, and 3 in between), and try to figure out how much damage is adequate for the roll.
Keep in mind that you do not have to always take damage directly from your attacker. You can also use your surroundings as a way to take in some pain.
* Emotions: Keep them up. How does Tangere feel about the spar thus far? Does she feel successful in getting a lot of damage on Deimos? What about after his attack back on her, etc?
Keep it up! Looking forward to your next post!
@Tangere
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