Oxy the Addict Posts: 322
| Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2hh :: 9 [Tallsun] HP: 73.5 | Buff: DANCE |
|
Unnamed :: Common Boggart :: Mayhem
Sevin |
11-11-2013, 12:30 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-19-2014, 04:55 PM by Odd.)
 Your mind is clear. For once. You've gotten a good night's sleep and with the sun just rising over the horizon you're ready to face the day. Out of habit, you swing your head around and shove your nose into your bag. For quite a while you dig around, trying to find the vines you so desperately yearn for. Unfortunately, there are none to be found in the depths of your leather pouch. For a moment you think its some kind of trick, like someone sneaked up next to you in the night and emptied your bag onto the ground. In vain, you begin to search the ground around you. As expected, you find nothing. Wherever you look, there's only mud and grime. You stomp your hoof into the ground in disbelief and frustration as though it might bring you some answers. You're met only with the splash of murky swamp water. At least getting dirty is something you've never worried about but it's still not your plants.
Shaking your head, you give up your useless assault on the swamp and decide to just go pick some more of your beloved vines. You're sure you had plenty yesterday. Perhaps you just ate a few more than you really needed to. Whatever the cause of your inconveniently empty shoulder bag, you're going to solve it. Slowly and steadily you make your way to the junction between the Spectral Marsh and the Endless Blue. The ground is somewhat more solid here, clay mixed with sand and held together by the roots from the periodic trees, but you're sure if you pressed too hard your hooves would sink down easily. Above you, the sun already seems determined to dry out everything it touches. If there is to be an end to the monstrous heat of summer, there's no sight of it now. You hate the heat.
You're just getting ready to start rooting around on the ground when you think you see movement out of the corner of your eye. For once, you don't second guess yourself. Your mind is rather clear of drugs considering the situation and so you can't imagine that you're imagining movement. There must be something there. Throwing your head up, you grumble your discontent and pick up an agitated trot. Your steps take you in a wide circle, dodging around the trees as needed, trying to find this perceived threat. If he wants some of your plants he's going to get a lot more than he bargained for. “Show yourself,” you demand, ready to smash whomever this is upon first sighting. For now, the way the early morning sun breaks through the trees and casts shadows makes it difficult for you to be certain where this unwanted intruder is. Nevertheless, you will find him. You're certain of this.
@[Colt]
Hybrid dice, 3 posts each, setting and time as described above, no restrictions.
Edit- Didn't know Colt didn't have stats yet. Whoops! Will post dice rolling thread once Blu gets stats for Colt.  we all look for ways to make the pain go away
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
| Hidden Account atk: 3.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14 hh :: 5 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Dark |
11-26-2013, 05:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-26-2013, 05:42 PM by Colt.)
WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
WIPE MY 'BROW AND SWEAT MY RUST
Her body hunkered behind a pair of trees, the dark points of her coat swallowed by the gloom the dawn was working to drive away. She was not hiding though, not any longer. She was watching, openly, the blundering movements of the unicorn oaf. She scrutinized him through the bars of the thinning forest, even the natural beauty of the evergreen fringe unable to sugarcoat the hideousness of the thing sharing the vicinity with her. As if a disfigured horn protruding grotesquely from a skull was not sickening enough, this one had a pair of them; crooked and wrinkled against his 'brow, their points lacking much length or upward salutation. Somehow it all disgusted her more than the common disease that ran rampant in his species.
Don't underestimate them her better judgement warned, remembering less than fondly the taste of dirt on occasions when she had failed to take her opponent seriously. It was such a difficult task to try and treat him as any sort of equal with her though, especially considering his natural inferiority. It was a bit of a pity really, it was in his blood, the terrible disease he bore, and it was no fault of his own. "He needn't suffer," she murmured mercifully, opting to end his life with a kind swiftness.
He lurched nearer to her, his voice rumbling into the air they shared for these few moments longer. She smiled gently as she stepped into the orange light of the rising sun, her tawny pelt awash in the kiss of day, as though a god were reaching through the murk to touch her - she the torch carrying him from the darkness of his misguided life, a divine right to murder.
Murder she would. Not normally so free to act, Colt had been surveying the area for a time, hence her position among the trees. The area was vacant of anyone who might witness her deed and fail to understand the gracious intent behind it. She certainly couldn't afford a tarnish on her reputation so soon, on someone as pointlessly worthless as him. Luckily they were alone and she was free to extend to him her kindness, a debt he'd repay simply by being gone from her life. They both won, in the end, her favorite kind of victory - I win, you die.
She moved to act then, now that she'd exposed herself and he drew nearer. She had already calculated his approach and had been appraising his size and battle scars, both something to be cautious of if she wanted to end this without breaking a sweat. If she could keep him at a distance it would be better than up close. His size would make his hits heavy, but his motion slow, so she needed to dash in and out. Normally with a unicorn she liked to hug their sides to render their sword useless, but this one wasn't a swordsman, he bore knives.
Stay over there big guy, Colt's mind teased as her toe rolled over a pebble. One of her eyes squinted shut, while the other sharpened its focus on his chest. The ocean roared dully in the northwest, her south, and its rumble seemed to flood her senses with relaxation, her breathing slowing and steadying. She exhaled.
Her hoof flashed with the outward rush of air, her toe connecting with the rock and sending it zipping through the woods, aimed straight for his heart. "Shoot," she breathed as she fired off her magic. A grin curled her lips, both eyes flashing open, and she was on the move.
her haunches coiled and shot her forward, her body thundering after the speeding bullet. She doubted it would miss, but she also knew to follow through.
She aimed to charge him, unfortunately head on for her shot's line, intending to feint to his left, then weave to his right (her left), and blow past him like a freight train. Before her tail would snap past his jaws though, her right hind would sail out low and fast, sent to sweep across the back portion or his right knee. Hopefully she'd hit the joint and pop it forward, the force to small to shatter it like she wanted, throwing off his balance so she could curl around behind him to draw up his left side and finish him off.
All of this assuming of course, he didn't have a cherry red spout coming from his breast.
A: 1/3
D: 0/1
W: 746/800
Colt fired a rock at his chest using her magic, so that the rock is like a pistol's bullet. Then she charged him head on, feinting, to come on his right side and kick at his right knee to knock him off balance.
**Colt's magic requires a 10 sided die roll to determine it's hit (30% accurate) which would be a separate roll (I believe) from the normal one for attack and damage.
 |
![[Image: 5518a658038f0]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5518a658038f0)
The Equine Empire wants YOU! Assuming you refers to an equine.
Join the movement.
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
Oxy the Addict Posts: 322
| Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2hh :: 9 [Tallsun] HP: 73.5 | Buff: DANCE |
|
Unnamed :: Common Boggart :: Mayhem
Sevin |
What does it feel like to get shot? It's a question you've never really asked before. It's probably a question you should have thought about before spouting your mouth out with no disregard for who you were yelling at. Too bad you're an idiot. Too bad you picked today to run into some racist freak. Of course, you know you're not the most pleasant thing to be around, but at least you're unpleasant to everyone. You see, you're an equal opportunist. Hate for everyone, all around. No creature is too winged, too horned or too plain to escape your wrath. That's the way it should be.
At any rate, back to the point- getting shot. If you could describe it in words... you wouldn't. Instead, you'd bellow and stop in your tracks- just like you're doing now. Your voice fills the area, a terribly monstrous noise that broadcasts your pain to any willing listeners. Where's the god-damned Phantom Seeker when you need her? One moment you were trotting around, trying to figure out what you heard. The next, your front left shoulder is writhing in pain. What you don't know is that your last minute turn to the right, just before the stone struck you, probably saved your life. Life is serendipitous that way, sometimes.
So anyways, the gunshot wound. Lets just say it sucks some really serious balls. To be honest, you're still not exactly sure what's going on, but your shoulder hurts like hell and it burns like it's on fire even though there are no flames to be seen. Honestly, you think that whatever it was must have drilled all the way down to the bone because you heard a pretty solid noise coming from somewhere within the shredded muscle and it sure felt like something trashed your scapula. Besides, there isn't much muscle to save you anyways. Of course, lets not forget all the blood. What used to be a dry, brown shoulder is now a wet, red shoulder. What a funny turn of events and....
YOUR FUCKING BAG!
It suddenly occurs to you that your man bag covers most of your left shoulder and some crazy bitch- the gray-ish one that is now apparently running towards you- just put a hole in it. That was good leather! It's not that you weren't pissed before, but this is just the icing on the cake. Kids these days- nobody teaches them a damn thing about respect.
Still in massive amounts of pain, you stumble backwards, already obviously limping on the front left where you were shot. Everything's happening so fast it's a little hard to comprehend, but maybe that's good for you because your stupid stumbling steps at least help you avoid the girls kick. Gods almighty. What did you do to deserve this? But, even so, at least you're not Pretty Boy. A lesser being would give up, fall to the ground, cry uncle and let the girl gloat in pride. You've got a different tactic. Self-medication.
As she barrels by you, you reach down and scoop in the nearest three or four of your drug plants into your mouth, swallowing them as quickly as you can, trying to keep an eye and watch the girl. You're hoping the plants will take effect before long, maybe giving you some reprieve from the incessant throbbing that is handicapping your shoulder. You're not hopeful. You don't think you've ever felt a pain worse than this. At least not in recent memory.
But a warrior's heart is not satisfied to be attacked and then let the perpetrator go. You've been wronged. You demand rectification. And, if your pain seared mind was telling you the right thing, you think you saw the girl try to circle back around to come at your left side. Better not wait and find out. You turn your head, trying to locate her form moving through the murky surroundings, dig your front hooves into the ground as best you can, and kick. Bad idea. Ow. OW. Holy shit ow! Even trying to put most of your weight on your front right limb leaves your other one burning anew. You're not sure you really like your recently developed Severe Shoulder Pain Syndrome. It kind of sucks.
Seriously, though, you need to get your shit together. After your attempt to buck at the crazy bitch, you try to find purchase on the ground and swing around to the left, demonstrative wincing and grunting accompanying your motion. If she has some sort of weapon, then you can use yours. You lower your head then swing it upwards, thrusting it towards where you hope she will be, trying to rake your daggers across her rib cage. Hopefully you're not too slow. Your SSPS is really slowing you down.
WC: 799/800
Post: 1/3 we all look for ways to make the pain go away
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
| Hidden Account atk: 3.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14 hh :: 5 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Dark |
WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
WIPE MY 'BROW AND SWEAT MY RUST
She missed.
That one realization shudders through her like the recoil from a gun spinning up your arm and vibrating your shoulder. It's a cold dread that settles in her stomach, heavy and discomforting. Of course this is why she was following through, but she didn't actually think she'd need to, it was just a half-hearted attempt at fulfilling the training routine ground into her mind. For that very reason, she missed again.
Her kicked swiped the air, the hard impact of landing with unhindered momentum sending a brief burn through her skeleton, like electricity running down a wire. What's worse it seemed like she was missing only because of dumb luck. Oxy's ungodly howling was enough to tell her that the bullet had driven into his flesh, but clearly it hadn't struck his heart, unless he was some herculean descendant. Shit, she thought, annoyed more than anything. She could almost hear Ricochet laughing at her, his scarred face all jacked up with his toothy, slack-jawed grin, making him all the more grotesque for his cruel humor.
If she couldn't even kill this ugly moron with a clear line of sight at his vital region, how could she ever hope to kill him.
Patience, some other part of her soothed, and practice.
She'd need it too, because while she was busy floundering around behind him, her attention divided onto herself as well as him and her effort lacking, he bit down on his pain and twisted it against her. Like the crack from a shotgun his hooves whipped out at her and slammed square in her right shoulder, his left foot dealing most of the blow and glancing off towards her chest. Luckily she was hugging it a bit close so he didn't get full extension, and his body was still coping with his gunshot wound, decreasing the power as he seemed to struggle for balance and control with his buck. All the same, it hurt like hell.
"Shi-" she squealed between clenched teeth as they collided, her strength no match for his. It upset her stride, shoving her towards her left and forcing her to catch herself with an awkward skip on her front end. Bruising began instantly, worked in so deep the surrounding tissues stiffened and her stride shortened somewhat, due to become more apparent as they continued, but otherwise not fatal as it might have been had he'd hit her rib cage.
She played a dangerous game, war, but it promised such sweet results it was easy to ignore the risk.
Grinding her teeth with aggravation Colt utilized her jarring, left-ward stride from the remainder of Oxy's assault to suck herself back on her haunches and roll back to her left, swiftly changing direction while her body was still recovering from the collision and unable to protest much. She cut in close to him as soon as she shifted direction, nearly touching his rump as she whipped around to arrive on his right side, while he was busy spearing the air on his left. She caught the malevolent shine on his knives and has no interest in seeing them any closer.
With a vicious thrust of her teeth Colt aimed to grip the fleshy fold of skin connecting his right flank, nearer the stifle, with his gut and groin. She hoped to jerk back as soon as she got it, ideally rolling the few nerves there between her teeth and perhaps even taking a sizable piece of it with her, if not at least yanking him somewhat off balance which might deter a kick. She swung her hips around as her forehand remained stationary, so that her right hip should be near his right side, where her tail set to a furious thrashing to deter his head should he snake it around. Her true intent however, was to keep it out of range from his hind feet. Her left foreleg reached out in a strong pawing movement, aiming to devastate and cripple his right hock or cannon. It had to be a short and fast maneuver however, her right foreleg quivering with the added weight to steady her balance.
Colt's gaze sharpened as she worked, the joyful gleam leaving the edge of her metal irises as this easy kill shifted into a struggle. She would never have chosen to engage this stallion if she had thought he'd be alive still, but now she had no choice and despite everything, she knew this was good for her. Since her arrival at Helovia she hadn't had proper training and she could practically hear her muscles drifting into fat.
Oxy wasn't dead yet, but by the end of this Colt would make him wish he was.
A: 2/3
D: 0/1
W: 800/800
|
The Equine Empire wants YOU! Assuming you refers to an equine.
Join the movement.
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
Oxy the Addict Posts: 322
| Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2hh :: 9 [Tallsun] HP: 73.5 | Buff: DANCE |
|
Unnamed :: Common Boggart :: Mayhem
Sevin |
It throbs. Your shoulder. It pounds, it beats, it swells, it bleeds. You can't think of anything else, what else is there to think of? But at least your stupid decision to buck, thinking that you'd be able to put all of your weight onto your front half, wasn't for nothing. You've hit something. Whatever. You're a little too blinded by pain to care and your drugs aren't settling nearly fast enough. You wish you had time to pick up a few more. As for your horns, they hit nothing. You're not too upset. You can't have your cake and eat it too, or however that expression goes.
Unfortunately for you, her muscled frame, as much as it leaves you wanting in the area of feminine looks, is immensely agile. She swings around you like you're standing still (well, maybe because you are) and before you can even think, she's executing some complicated set of maneuvers while you're still standing over here whining about the shoulder pain, which incidentally has not gone away at all. Note to self- don't let whatever she did to your shoulder happen again. To be honest, you're still quite confused about the whole thing. Maybe it has something to do with your 'medicines'.
But rather than feeling upset about being high, you really wish you had more weeds. No, you need more weeds. For your brain, which is starting to get distracted without them and for your shoulder, which is screaming ever louder even though you managed to swallow a couple in the confusion. What kind of solider takes a break to eat anyways?
Regardless, even if your methods are somewhat unorthodox, your stalwart determination is evident. She bites you, pretty much where she hoped to on that tender flap of skin, pinching a nerve or two and leaving an odd portion of your right hind limb tingling somewhere between numb and normal. Interestingly, it's not particularly unpleasant and even in the midst of battle you manage to make a mental note to try this on yourself later- just maybe not so hard. She yanks her head back and, perhaps only because of the mud caked onto your fur, her teeth tear a little bit of skin and leave you mildly bleeding, but at least with most of your body still attached to itself. Naturally, the tearing of your skin still hurts like a bitch. You grind your teeth, ready to do something to make her pay, but she keeps moving.
Her ass, which you're not especially interested in because it's rather manly looking, is now by your shoulder, tail lashing in furious form towards your face. Its irritating, a fly in the grand scheme of everything, but it's enough to get you moving. You begin to stumble backwards at about the same time that she kicks out. Bad move. The extra room gives her extra speed, extra force. Her hoof strikes your cannon, leaving you bellowing like a madman and rushing into motion.
You throw your head down and to your right, eyes carefully judging the distance, hoping once again to use your horns. If your aim is true you'll end up with your horns running down her right thigh, nose probably dangerously close to her skin but not actually touching it. Assuming all goes to plan of course. Which it might not. It turns out she's quite a bit shorter than you, which you knew, but failed to account for.
With so much force put behind your horn strike, your body is left with only one option- to follow suit. You begin to stumble to the right, quite on accident, hooves flailing beneath you on the partly muddy ground as you try to get your balance back. For any other horse, or even yourself on a more sober day, you might not be falling. The motion of your head might not have been too much. But today your mind is a little hazy, your body a little uncoordinated, the signals from your brain to your limbs just a little slower than they should be. At least since she was standing right next to you, the last time you checked, she might get hit by your stumbling form. It's the best you can hope for.
The worst part of it all is that every step to the right you take jams more pressure onto that right hind cannon that Colt molested just moments ago. You're more than certain if you try to move you're going to limp pretty badly. And at this point rearing is totally out of the question. Of course, bucking seems a little uncertain as well, with that Severe Shoulder Pain Syndrome still happening. You're kind of a mess and entirely pissed off. You really need more drugs. A lot more.
WC: 800
Post: 2/3 we all look for ways to make the pain go away
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
| Hidden Account atk: 3.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14 hh :: 5 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Dark |
WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
WIPE MY 'BROW AND SWEAT MY RUST
Gravel grinds between her teeth as Colt's jaws snap shut, the taste of iron frustratingly weak amid the sour mud. Though, Colt is not without some bit of retribution; the sound of her kick connecting with his bone did sing sweetly. Knowing better than to grin outwardly, especially when the behemoth still held a beating heart, she nonetheless felt an exalt of joy rush through her.
Would Ricochet be proud now? Would he finally praise her? Surely this giant was a worthy opponent, and undoubtedly his death would be of assistance to the world.
If only he would actually die.
The body shifts at her side, his pain driving him into a speed she cannot match while her balance remains askew from the buck. She jerks her head around to snap at his side in a feeble attempt to drive him away from her, already realizing moments too late why he is moving ass first.
"Stupid girl!" the Incendiary's voice cracks in her mind, the lash of it as blinding as a bolt of lightning breaking behind her eyes. "You forgot the horns!"
No, she wanted to tell him, shaking with a gripping fear and equally a quiet rage that seemed directed inward but was only ever aiming for him. There was nothing more she could say though, the blasted dunskin and his dog be damned, it was her fault. Trying to come up with a convincing explanation otherwise only ended in the words being twisted around into some failure on her part.
And now her time to plead was up, assuming she'd even had a moment to spare.
She hadn't.
"FUCK!" she bellowed, the whites of her eyes echoing her urgency just as the tip of Oxy's right horn entered the layer of flesh covering Colt's right flank. An unearthly squeal wrangled itself from her nose while her body twisted involuntarily, each nerve cell seeming to fire off of its own accord, ever fiber of her being cringing with the expected agony. Her system was in a panic, driven beyond the point of self preservation in this moment. She was haunted by the memories that painted her into this situation. She could taste the ash of Isilme on her tongue, drying out her screams so that they forced to bead out on her neck in a sweat.
Please father, give me another chance.
Colt's body writhed to the left, her haunches automatically firing out in a buck, though the right leg was severely limited and mostly useless, but hopefully, blindly, the left one might strike the beast's skull. Along the way a small pebble was kicked up, nonequivalent in power to her normal choice of bullet, but still something - it'd feel more like an airsoft if it did strike skin.
The act of bucking combined with Oxy's continued force sheared a red line on her dark hide as his horn erupted back out another end, it's length easily snapping the cords of her hide. He just barely scraped into the beginning of the musculature, but he may as well have struck bone for all the pain she felt, the leg rendered useless as fire and blood alike engulfed it.
All she could think was to get away. This was supposed to be a clean and easy kill, in and out before dinner. It soured fast, but at least a bruise or two she could have ignored, as could have anyone.
Now?
Now she was scrambling just to hold the trigger steady and hoping she'd get another meal, assuming the herd didn't toss her out when she walked in with one hip blood-red, pretending it was the latest fashion. They'd see right through her - she was never one to trend.
Oxy was thundering and blundering behind her, collapsing forward like an avalanche rolling in murderous intent down a mountainside. Colt didn't dare look back but kicked forward as much as she could manage, her coup clobbered a few times by his bulk as he followed just on the cusp of her flight. Her panic made her foolish, she knew, but with Ricochet's laughter in her ears and the agony snapping at every stride her senses were numb to reason. Colt tried to lose him between the trees, another rock or two kicked free and sent firing off with her magic, each more wildly aimed than the last and each progressively lower.
Warning shots more than anything.
Unfortunately they ricocheted, and the echo they left sounded desperate in the woods.
A: 3/3
D: 0/1
W: 775/800
|
The Equine Empire wants YOU! Assuming you refers to an equine.
Join the movement.
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
Oxy the Addict Posts: 322
| Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2hh :: 9 [Tallsun] HP: 73.5 | Buff: DANCE |
|
Unnamed :: Common Boggart :: Mayhem
Sevin |
New pain. Now what? Hooves. The mare's hooves, smashing into the top of your skull, right above your ear. And while you're certain that you don't use your brain as much as some do, you're rather fond of it. Your head starts ringing in protest of the hit, a pounding headache like one you've never experienced before. Not to mention the blood. It trickles down next to your ear, a laceration on the sensitive skin of your face. Slowly dripping, falling, flowing. It's nothing compared to all the blood flowing from the gray mare's wound though. Small victories.
Still you're falling, trying to gather your feet under yourself, trying to stay standing, not to topple over completely while also trying to fend off the crazy woman that was clearly trying to take your life. Each step is a new round of agony as your bruised right hind cannon takes your weight with each step. Your injured shoulder is given some relief, but not much. Pain, floods of pain, waves of it, you're drowning in it. You wonder if the gray woman knows what sort of terror she causes when she... does whatever it is she did to your shoulder. You wish you could repay her equally but you don't know how you can. What do you have of equal power in your arsenal? Nothing.
Your eyes are now as wide as hers were when you dug your horns into her ass. And what a beautiful ass it would have been, if it hadn't gone and kicked your head. Gray bitch, trying to kill you. You're pretty sure you hate her and you haven't even spoken to her. Well... other than some random grunting and what-not. But anyways. There goes another one of those things, like the one that hit your shoulder whizzing by you. You guess your falling must have thrown off her aim, it goes right past you.
How many steps have you stumbled? Two? Three? It seems like so many. For one glorious moment you think you're going to make it, you think you're going to find your footing, you think you're going to right your massive, upturned frame. Now you have it, your hoof finding a solid grip on the ground and then... you crash into her hip. Or, more correctly, she crashes into you as she tries to run away. Well, lucky you. You scared her. But you're falling again. And you still owe her. You should just let her go, let her disappear into the woods... but you just don't feel right leaving her less wounded than you are. Yeah, you're a little vindictive.
So you force yourself, through the foggy haze that is become ever more present in your mind, to find some footing and stop falling. You start to limp after her into the woods, though you don't know how you're going to catch her at this point. After all, all you've got is one bleeding shoulder, one severely bruised cannon, one pounding headache and a mouthful of teeth that are determined to take a bite out of the gray nutcase. Maybe you should invite her to join your group while you're at it?
So you grind your teeth together, fight against the determined call of the now-bloody plants in your shoulder bag, and keep following her. Into the place where the trees grow thicker, she she weaves around them and you think you've lost her but then you hear the loud sounds echoing in the trees. Bingo.
You alter your course, grind your teeth ever harder together, move faster, limp more obviously, but you will get her. You are determined. She runs like a coward but she will rue the day she thought she could magic you to death from the shadows, a weakling hiding away from the world because she can't really fight. You don't like snipers and sharp shooters, guerrillas that work like shades, coming and going when you least expect it.
And then you think you have her, if it isn't just an illusion of your drugged, hoof-jarred brain. You're close enough, you can reach her, you hope. You extend your neck, trying to stay on her right hind end where her mostly-useless leg is. Teeth clamp down, trying to grab anything you can, squeeze shut, your head shakes back and forth like a dog. And then, just for good measure you kick out with your left front leg. And yeah, it hurts like hell, but you do it anyway, just to see if you can get another good hit in. But in the end you stop, the pain too much. You lean against a tree for support as your hazy mind tries to memorize the look of the gray woman's ass. You'll find her again. That's a promise.
WC: 800
Post: 3/3
OOC| Thanks for your patience, Blu. Sorry it's been taking so long on my end, with all the holiday business my muse for an actual, good post has been lacking. Thanks again for fight number two, it was a lot of fun :D we all look for ways to make the pain go away
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
| Hidden Account atk: 3.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14 hh :: 5 years HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Dark |
WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
WIPE MY 'BROW AND SWEAT MY RUST
She could hear him behind her. Somehow over the deafening roar of the blood in her ears she could hear the giant fumbling around behind her; how quickly the roles reversed. He was already supposed to be growing cold on the ground, the light leaving his eyes, and she could have walked away, shaking the dust from her pelt like any other day, but the fucker had to be a damn giant who's shoulder belonged to a whale and protected his heart.
"Damnit," she cursed under her breath, her hip oozing red still as she jammed it against the ground in order to weave between the trees. She was running, and part of her mind burned with the shame of it. Before Ricochet would have been there to kick her right back in the ring. He would have told her life didn't give you time to run, and anyone you ran from meant someone wanting to kill you on another day, so may as well get it over with.
But he's had to run before, she thought sourly.
Her breath was giving out though, her breed not well designed for stamina. Her speed was slacking because of it, and even with all the adrenaline and fury in the world her muscles had their limits. She made a desperate swerve around the next tree, doubling back around it so she was headed back the way she came, and that's when Oxy reached her. She couldn't see what all happened, but his body began to collapse and crash towards the ground. A few more strides away and Colt turned to look at him, her heart hammering in her chest, her lungs ablaze.
She should kill him now, kick him when he's down, but his horn glinted in the light and the memory of that pain was still too fresh. She knew the power of a cornered animal, having been one most of her short life. She'd rather be a coward today, to kill another in the future.
She took his crash as the opportunity to escape.
A: 3/3
D: 1/1
W: 345/800
No worries, thanks for the fight! :D
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By my verdict: COLT is the winner!
OXY
Realism [+4]
I'm really glad Oxy took into account that Colt's initial 'bullet' would have hit his bag as well - though I would have liked to have seen that emotion carried through a little more, but only because he's so hilarious. I think Oxy did a good job of being realistic here - especially since he was drugged, but why didn't he just run away? He acknowledges that he thinks Colt is trying to kill him but...what's the motivation for sticking around and continuing to take a beating?
Emotion [+1.5]
Emotion is hard, because Oxy being stoned sort of...tones down what he might be thinking. Or at least, his thoughts sort of revolve around WHAT IS HAPPENING, and WHERE ARE MY DRUGS. That's why I mentioned I would have liked to see his anger at his bag being torn carried through, because it's an emotion and motivation you could have played with a little more.
Prose [+4]
HILARIOUS. Oxy is hilarious, that's all there is to it. You write him really wonderfully. I laugh everytime; Too bad you're an idiot. xD
No issues. Your writing style works really well for Oxy I think. The first time I read it, it took some getting used to, but now I can't imagine him written any other way. I think you do a really good job of balancing his stoned-thoughts, and describing what's actually happening.
Readability [+3]
No issues. Great!
Finally tally: 7 + 12.5 = 19.5HP
Comments: Spars are hard, because while we have OOC reasons for doing them, we don't always have IC reasons, and they can read a little artificial sometimes. I would try to bring in other areas of Oxy's life as justification, to make him seem a little more realistic. Like, if he wants to pseudo lead the Asylum, how will that look if he gets beat up by a girl? What if some of them are watching? Something like that, that gives credibility to his reasons for fighting Colt.
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COLT
Realism [+5]
You write Colt (and everyone else) with incredible realism. You take into account what it feels like when their attack misses, the involuntary as well as voluntary motions, and just general 'horse' things, that other people often forget. In terms of damage received, I think you gauged things really well.
Emotion [+2]
Awww. Poor little Colt has daddy issues. :P Your last couple of posts were really great - especially when things started going sour for her. I could really understand where she was coming from, and the anxiety she was feeling.
Prose [+5]
You write Colt really well; I especially like the gun imagery/vocabulary. It really adds to her overall persona. Not to mention that your knowledge of equine anatomy/movements really make your posts easy to read and understand.
Readability [+2.5]
A few grammar issues, but nothing major.
Finally tally: 23.5 + 14.5 = 38HP
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