| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
The rush, the tempo, the beat, the spinning serenade of the archaic dais of war sparked and incensed his control. It called in rapid singsong, a meticulous, vibrant crooning, a harsh, raucous din flooding his senses, barbaric twangs and resonance of monstrosity. It asked for bloodshed, it yearned for calamity, for animosity, for deliberate streaks of savage upheaval, when the crisp, infidel action of bone meeting bone unraveled, where flesh ripped away from sinew, tendons, and muscles, strangled, smothered, and suffocated in the harpooning display of satanic reverie. A haunting, lilting void, composed into hallowed decibels, shrieks and howls, murmured in the depths and fathoms of his enticed ears, for gallows, for domination, for supremacy and derision. A devilish, siren hymn to snap her neck, to flail her skin, to grind every last morsel of her figure into the ground, where it would be laid to rest amongst the chilling valley. But the opportunities hastened and flew by, composure and restraints, taut, rigid restrictions upon his wayfaring soul, upon his loyal creeds, upon his lone virtues and benedictions, disregarded the bids of bloodthirsty warbles.
Instead, Deimos focused upon the frosty ground, the scrape of his teeth against her nape, the sudden, stinging rush of pain as she shoved her body upwards and met his parted jaw. The open maw was swiftly forced back into place, a nefarious click as enamel bore upon enamel, and he twisted his cranium right, shaking the meddlesome disturbance away, hoping to force the cursed onslaught of aches and anguish off into the distance. Moving towards the right, though slowed and dawdling due to the shambled left shoulder, saved him from the serrated edge of her sword, and the true ferocity and might of her following assault; the kick landed upon his left haunch, glancing off the end with a piercing, bruising formulation.
However, as he drifted, his frustration rose, clambering higher and higher until the depths of its vexation hastened towards his barbaric reticence, and the old ditty of chaos returned. It rang in clear, elegiac decibels, strung and curled, coiled and beguiled, smothering the length of his calculations into a swarming fathom of authority, promising, bewitching: show her. Coaxing, gliding, annihilating, a zealous, ferocious whisper in his ear: display the demonic fortitude of your wake, keen the ravaging manifest of your precision, and in one fell swoop, he gathered the ruminations of his satanic necromancy. A maddening pulse, gliding with his movements as he attempted to reach her right side again, not as swift, not as fast (for the injuries plagued, but the feelings were unrelenting), and he tried to swing the lacerating edge of his sword into her right flank. Infused in the loathing tempest was the toiling multitude of power, of demise, of quietus, singeing the brim of the lengthy rapier – though his intentions were not to summon a sudden slaughter or a quick execution. Instead, it built the legacy of his power, of his fortitude, of his malice and menace, and how, despite still being in the safety of his kingdom, she should never underestimate his prowess. He was the beast to be feared.
[Deimos is using the buffs SWIFT and BULK.
523 words. 2/3 posts + 1/1 magic used.
As he bites into her neck, the rush of her body lunging upwards causes his jaw to snap back into place, and he tosses his head, and body, towards the right, attempting to shake off the pain. Due to this prior movement, he avoids the point of her horn, but not her kick: it lands upon his left haunch and glances off the end of his flesh, another bruised portion of his body.
Frustrated, he channels his deadly magic into his movements, and attempts to reach her right side again. He swings his horn, funneling the deadly energy into it, towards her right flank.]
OOC Comments:
Yay, another post down. I’ll follow the same formula I had from before. ;D
I liked her emotion again, all of it is so very Illynx. From her barking, mad laughter, dark smiles, to wanting to show him that she’s capable, were all very nicely executed. I also noticed you attempted to simplify your sentences. Instead of stretching them out and putting way too many actions into one phrase, you’ve spaced them out nicely. Thank you.
Now, to work on.
Anatomy. There’s this moment: With any luck and swiftness on her behalf, her right shoulder would meet with his receding teeth, the irony of the action regardless of its outcome sending a thrill of humor through her, granting her something to focus on something other than the pleading that came from her bruised ribs. that left me confused. Deimos was aiming for her crest, which is the top of her neck. The shoulder is further down their body, as displayed here. Unless she is defying the laws of body formation, there is no way she could raise her shoulder to his jaw. You don’t state her moving upwards, which would make more sense (her having to lower her head, going upward in sort of a bounce motion, and even then, it would likely be the lower portion of her neck or withers hitting against him). Make sure that when you’re using defense maneuvers and tactics, and turning them into attacks (which I enjoyed), that they make sense.
Pain. You have the basic evidence that she suffers from Deimos’ attacks. Hardened by the testosterone that flooded his veins, the weight of his body dimpled the gold-streaked flesh that covered her rib cage, pushing her carefully balanced breath from her lungs in an audible whoosh that left the tingle of white light burning through the corner of her eyes. or The bruises are instant from the simultaneous blows; a low growl escaping her lips as she feels a few strands of her precious mane snap under the pressure of his incisors, the partially breathless bitch lunges back towards the grasp of the devil.. But I don’t see it afterwards. Being bruised and shoved around should leave her feeling a bit more haggard, not as quick or fast, labored and damaged in her movements. I’ve learned my lesson many a times over that you have to keep mentioning their anguish, their torment, their suffering to keep up with the realism. You may have blinding, white-hot pain, but – it doesn’t diffuse quickly thereafter.
Mention it in her movements, her attacks, her defenses. It needs to stay with her throughout the fight (unless she manages to find a way to heal herself ;D) to maintain authenticity and reality. Has she been slowed down? Can she move or maneuver as rapidly as before? Which side hurts to put weight upon? How is she hindered?
I think that about covers it. Good luck!
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[JUDGED] Iron Indignation [Training Spar]
