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10-01-2016, 02:32 PM
EREBOS 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.] |
Teaching Spar Notes:
Slow Heather strikes again. -_-
What Went Well:
* 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.
@Själ
