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04-21-2017, 06:36 PM
EREBOS The tip of his horn merely glanced off of her hide, didn’t run rampant, didn’t seethe, and didn’t split apart her flesh. It was almost nothing, a paltry, trifle, minor cast of power, barely worth noting in the parting of ways, in the flash of falling drops – just like him - inferior, inadequate, and deficient. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d thought of so many other ways it would’ve gone, trading blow for blow, savagery for savagery, but he couldn’t unwind a single potent tactic. He slipped. He stumbled. He fumbled. He trudged on and on and on, grimacing in pain, in aches, because determination carried him forwards, seared across his skull, and scorched his soul. Again, he thought. I’ll just try again. However, then she came at his right side, and he attempted to lean towards the left, but the mud was too soft beneath his feet, made it difficult to push off the ground, to maintain any semblance of escape. Each one of her horns rampaged, became piercing, keen needles, grazing across his ribs, peeling back portions of hide, leaving rivulets and lacerations in their wake. The longest one did the most damage, puncturing down his side until the edge of his barrel, as if she’d written a lengthy opus to his stupidity, sanctioned it with her bloody signature. The pain ran into all the other agonies, and they were bright, vivid, screeching howls pulsing through his core. Each one offered a blunt tune, a belligerent cacophony, until they were all discordant slides of misery: you’re a failure his bruised haunches claimed as he hung his head, as he took a breath, as he tried to dig into the muck and mire. You’re pathetic, one of his cuts spouted as he turned his head to glance at her, seeing through the shards of water pouring down upon them, all hazy and gray. Eventually, the gnawing notions seemed to combine forces with Orsino’s hisses and snarls, and together they were wicked and wild, feral and ferocious. He ground his teeth together, clenched his jaw tightly, and maneuvered towards her – stitched, sewn, with tales of fortitude forged in his veins. It was all he had left. I’ll show you, the mighty prince began, mind roaming past the edges of torment. He’d done too little too late – had played it safe, had kept it neat, clean, and tidy – offered honor instead of abhorrence. The damage had been done in his lapse, in those moments of virtue, goodness, and decency. He knew he couldn’t shove against her, his body hurt too much to justify much of an impact. The mud and injuries had stolen away his speed. Any little advantage he’d orchestrated at the beginning had been bludgeoned and swept into the rainstorm, gone until he’d healed and rested. But there was no opportunity for that now. There was just the boy, the General, in the hallowed hollows of his own machinations. So, he opted to burn. Watch me, he nearly spoke, he almost roared, one last surge into annihilation. He didn’t want to fail. He didn’t want to falter. He didn’t want this image, his broken, languished form, to be the picture of the Basin General – all talk, all vigor, all fiasco and catastrophe. The fires of his invocations funneled within his veins, luminous and twisted, a vigilant course of violence; pushing past all the sensibilities, all the valor, all the courageous whims holding them in place, until he felt them graze and settle along his skin. There they waited as he reached for her right flank, as he tried to extend his ivories in a massive bite, as he attempted to emblazon her flesh in a rush of fire. All he wanted was one fiendish touch, one glorious, infernal course of brutality and ferocity. He could be devastation. He could be ruin. He could be the monster of the mountains. Finally, he heard Orsino whisper, and the youth began to grin. [664 words. 3/3. * Erebos receives several small cuts from her horns down the right side of his ribcage, including one long laceration that starts at his ribs and goes to the end of his barrel. * In retaliation, he attempts to use his fire magic and bite at her right flank at the same time, hoping to burn her if/when he touches her. Final Injury Report: * Severely bruised left haunch and general hind end area. XD * Several small cuts on the right side of his ribs, with one long laceration extending from his ribs to the end of his barrel.] |
Teaching Notes:
What Went Well:
* Emotions: Weaver still makes me laugh! She’s so dry. You’ve got her pegged down very well, even in the midst of battle, which is awesome. So many roleplayers, myself included, struggle here – depending on their character – because the situation is so strange, or because they have a difficult time balancing emotions within fights (if their character happens to be very cold, indifferent, or nonchalant). But that doesn’t seem to be a problem with you, and that’s awesome. Keep it up! Embed it into every fight post you do. Some of my favorite segments were:
She would smack him upside the head for his ridiculous thoughts if she could hear them. There’s a trick to making others think you are everything you aren’t. Act like it. That’s it. That's the whole trick. Walk in like you own the place and people will assume you own the place. They don’t ask. It’s a magic trick that doesn’t require any actual magic. You don’t need to fend off stupid fire cheetahs, or beg the Gods, or strike a bargain with Kaos for this particular skill. You just fucking decide you own the place. Yes, please, sempai Weaver, teach me your ways.
He cares. And that caring goes one of two ways. Either it makes you stronger, or it shatters you. She would tell him to wear all his cares on his sleeve, to turn caring and worry into pride and determination. To wave it around like a flag everywhere he went. To scream to the Heavens that the Basin will be something, that his army will be unstoppable. Amen, sister.
She thrills at the hit as she always does, feeling alive and powerful despite the fact she is neither. She has died twice, and should not walk among the living as she does. She is not powerful either, in comparison to others. But would you doubt either of those two things about her? That she is alive and powerful, that she is something to remember? No, because she doesn’t let you doubt it. Okay, I’m done fangirling this post, I swear. But all of this is what I like about Weaver. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her, and she’s not going to let anyone walk all over her. Rock on, girl.
* Attack: It was easy to understand, clear, and concise, and you incorporated the setting throughout. A+! She scrambles to get her legs beneath her as she starts to move forward, aiming for Erebos' right side. At the last minute, she ducks her head, aiming all seven of her horns for his ribs on his right side. It truly is a blessing when someone uses directions, especially ones that are feasible and aren’t suddenly all over the place, and your fellow roleplayer will thank you immensely for it. Sparring is a two-way street after all. ;D
* Damage Taking: You lucky ducky, another 1! I thought your response to the dice roll was the right amount, only giving another miniscule cut. It feels like a surface wound, annoying but it doesn’t slow her down (unlike the damn mud). That’s sufficient, and you didn’t go for the dramatics or try to take more damage than necessary. Good for you!
To Work On:
Again, I didn’t see anything major jumping out at me. Your grammar/proofreading was well done and orchestrated. You included your surroundings throughout your post. What on earth did you need me for? :P
To Think About:
Since this is going to be your final post, you only need to include your defense (if any, with the luck you’ve had with dice ;D). Usually I try to incorporate a final injury report (though Weaver doesn’t have much! XD), and reflect back on how the fight went, how they feel about it overall, where the aches and pains are, if they’re fatigued, etc. The judges will be looking for realism, so any pain should carry over into the last post.
Excellent job! You really took any notes I gave you and ran with them! I don’t think you needed me at all, but thank you for the opportunity anyway. :D
@Weaver
