It was damnably cold despite the sun’s feeble attempts to peer through the morning clouds. Ice wrapped around naked tree branches like a crystalline exoskeleton, and thick frost clung to whatever vegetation it could find. It was a completely unspectacular gray daybreak at the mouth of the Sanctuary, and Moniz was sick to death of everything. She stood, scowling, under a rocky overhang. She was glaring at the entrance to the Sanctuary, deeply resenting the hole in the earth to which she was bound. It would be so easy to leave; to disappear into the woods and never go back to that miserable dungeon. But she knew better. Even though it was only fear and not wisdom that anchored her to the caves, she knew she couldn’t leave and get devoured by whatever evil had conquered this land. She had seen the screaming, tortured souls dragged through the caves by small armies of equines; she had heard their blood-curdling cries echoing through the stony corridors. Moniz didn’t know what had happened to them, but whatever it was, she damn well wasn’t going to let it happen to her. And so Moniz sullenly hung close to the little hole that led to safety, detesting the heavy chains it had insidiously anchored around her fetlocks. The incessant drip of slowly melting icicles provided her only soundtrack; it was too damned cold for birds or bugs, and no wind rustled through these sullen woods. In the stillness, low fog had settled amidst the roots and moss. Gray and dead. Everything was gray and dead, and Moniz hated all of it. Misery demands an outlet, and Moniz was never the type to keep her emotions in check. The heavyset bay pony was spoiling for a fight – she had been for several days now – and her irritability was bound to boil over at the next unfortunate soul to stumble upon her. She stomped a gray hoof against the hard forest floor, swishing her tail at the invisible flies that nagged at her round belly. Drip. Drip. Drip. The monotony was enough to drive anyone mad, and with every passing moment, the rage that consumed her small body swelled like a balloon. Moniz waited furiously, begging for the pin to drop that would set off what was by now an absolutely unavoidable explosion. OOC 389 words, [0/3] @[Hellä] - Feel free to attack first if you'd like. =) 3 attacks each & closing defense, 800 word limit Judged spar, no stats (since Hellä doesn't have them yet - if you want to request stats & use them I'd be happy to do that) I'm sorry, I'm dumb sometimes. >.< Judged spar, hybrid dice system - will add a link once Hellä's stats are assigned! Hybrid Dice - Stats Roll thread Setting summary: Overcast winter morning, in the woods just outside the entrance to the Sanctuary Magic & companions allowed if applicable Text. Thoughts. "Speech." DA Image Link (new window)

She was long overdue with her visit to the outside wonders. Her legs needed to be stretched, as they were numb with pain. They flailed with no direct destination, just aiming in whatever way they could bend. Her neck was arched low, her body slumbered in the snow. Poor Hellä, restless as a bear would be when waking from hibernation. Her head was filled with nothing, she was staring into darkness, her body walking aimlessly. Was she dread to fulfill the terrible misery throughout Frostfall? The snow was to her knees now. If her size was any lower, she would’ve had lost her legs to frostbite by now, but thankfully her height was higher than usual and she could lift them over the snow. Her winter coat had set in, making three layers in the last day. Her mane and tail grew thicker, darker. Her vivid blue eyes now turned to a deeper shade of the sea blues. Her legs had become stronger, strangely getting use to the icy cold snow touching them. Tan hooves yelped for soft, green ground, but what they wanted most was unbearable to most. War. Hellä craved for the blood showers to grasp for her clean talons. She felt disgusted to look down at her shiny, clean hooves. She wished to hear the sounds of the ripping flesh of another. It made her feel… Free. She felt as if she ruled the world when she looked at the gapping wounds across one’s womb, it brought back her humanity, and that she tried to hide so often. But was it really worth it? To have to hide something that brought out one’s characteristics? When it made everything feel so, real? As she grew closer towards a large terrain of woods, she caught a scent from the moist, dirty air. Her nostrils snorted and white fog rolled out as she took a deep breath. Mare. She told herself before clinging to the wind again. Older. That was the only specific information she needed, was that the opponent was a mare, and she was older. That small input, made everything much easier on her weary bones. Hellä stepped her strides up to a quicker pace, but kept herself steady before she ran dry of energy. But as she began to approach closer, her strides shortened to quick, fast steps, her knees coming higher to where her hooves were visible. She knew now that her legs were ready for a good battle – whether she was or not. Finally, the opponent came into view and Hellä stopped dead. Her frame was not in the form of fear, but dedicated with pride and power. Her harks stood straight forward, her legs holding her beneath with firm balance, and her neck was arched with grace. She stood in silence for moments, studying the mare carefully, making sure to catch every feature on her bay body. ”Care to dance on this fine morning?” She asked with a deep smirk on her dark lips. Attack: 0/3 Wordcount: 500

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The still winter air crackled with signs of another’s approach: the musty, sweet smell of equine flesh tickled Moniz’s nostrils, and the soft pull of tall legs through high snow alerted her dainty ears. Her mind, so desperate for stimulation, devoured the sensory input like a prisoner enjoying their first well-seasoned meal after being released from the horrible monotony of stale bread and water. Heartened by the knowledge that she would soon have a scapegoat for all of this mind-numbing vitriol, the sturdy little pony assumed a vigilant pose, her pulse quickening with anticipation as she waited to finally see her victim with her own eyes – to know that the fight she so desperately wanted was indeed forthcoming. At last, a tall dappled mare rimmed in soot strode confidently into Moniz’s field of vision. From her prideful pose, the pony understood that this mare’s eagerness to fight mirrored her own. Good. Beating up on weaklings is so dull. Not that it had ever stopped her… Moniz stood unflinchingly under the bigger horse’s probing gaze, watching her defiantly. She only really wanted a cursory look at the other animal: fights always had a similar form for Moniz. The enemy was taller and more physically impressive. Always. She never expected anything else. A smattering of scars graced this particular mare’s hide: this wasn’t her first rodeo. Beyond that, Moniz did not give a damn about the mare’s specific features. Besides, she would be doing her damnedest to mangle those beyond recognition in moments, anyways. The challenge was uttered coyly, but to Moniz, this was no game. She knew her physical disadvantages meant every fight deserved her full attention. There was no room for frivolity. She let the mare’s smirked words fester, kneading them into the shape of an unforgivable affront to her dignity that required swift, merciless retaliation. Little black-tipped pony ears shot back against her neck, and with a fiery shake of her head she glowered with as much ferocity as one pony could manage, “Let’s go, bitch.” Scorched legs launched into motion, springing through the snow with surprising agility. She was fat, but she was blessed with the sneaky quickness ponies so often possess. Of course, the exertion to move through the snow slowed her momentum, but she fought her way forward, cherishing the heat of her laboring leg muscles. The disturbed powder billowed around her in soft clouds of white, but Moniz’s world burned red hot – a lingering effect of her explosive temper. The pony’s focus narrowed in on the Spanish-type mare’s crest. It was a large target on this big horse, and made an obvious choice for a first point of attack. With their height differential, it might be hard to reach, but having made her decision, Moniz was fully committed. She leapt straight from the snow, thrusting forward from her haunches with far more effort than normal to account for both the mare’s height and the snow that fought to keep her already heavy body earthbound. She opened her mouth and snapped, aiming for the softest flesh that sat atop the middle of the crest. She shut her eyes momentarily and let the relief of action – of life! - flood through her, indulging in the decadence of that moment; the one she was craving so desperately during these days of intolerable monotony. 555 words, [1/3] DA Image Link (new window)

As the beautiful mare took off – ”wait, I meant shit-colored mare” – so did Hellä. She didn’t hesitate at all. Her legs reached high from the surface of the white powder, making it possible for her speed to increase and her limbs stretch farther out. Her neck now arched, pulling her muzzle closer to her broad chest. Vivid blue eyes searched over the mare’s body with a stern glare, looking for the perfect striking position that her teeth to rip the soft flesh away. She sized her up carefully to herself, making sure she knew every inch of the bay’s swift body. Hellä was much larger than the pony, and that meant she was stronger. But the pony was low, and had better agility. Thankfully, the weather was on the warrior’s side today and it had snowed overnight, giving her the better advantage. She could lift her legs higher, to where her hooves could advance without having too many problems of tripping in the deep snow. They inched closer to each other, galloping through the snow without struggling too hard. Hellä knew that the older mare would be a hard competition, but she didn’t mind at all. The dappled soldier had wished for a good battle for days on end now, and today, was when it came. She would rise in victor, with the bloodshed mare bowing to her, the dark muzzle stuck beneath Hellä’s crimson-stained hooves, gasping for oxygen. This was what the mare craved for the most. The sweet smell of the blood trickling down her lower lip and dropping to the red snow. This would be the end of her sour days being stuck in the over-filled caverns. It made her no-longer-dull eyes dance with pure excitement. The leap surprised the young grey mare, but she wasted no time either. Her front hocks lifted higher and her back legs pushed her from gravity’s pull. Her strength pulled her closer to the colorless sky, but her late time caught her off guard. Just as the two mares met each other in the middle of collisions, the bay nicked the grey on the top of the neck, throwing her out of control. Hellä flailed through the air, but caught herself and aimed to pull the skin from the mare’s withers. Her neck reached down to pull for the mare’s spine, but she didn’t have much more than a few seconds before she would collide with the earth. She spun her dome around quickly; fast enough to get her body positioned into a positive landing situation. Her front legs were stretched in front of her and her back legs placed underneath her rump; however, they weren’t too low like they would be if she were to sit down. As she slid across the ground, she expanded her bold legs and took off at a dead run; however, she didn’t run far. Hellä shifted on her rear hocks and spun towards the bay mare. She stood there in silence for only a few moments before she snorted and white smoke came bellowing from her breathing nostrils. “You’ve got to do something better than that, damned doll.” She sneered at the dark pony before charging at her fullest velocity. Hellä didn’t stop, she didn’t slow; she kept on going. Her body flew past the mare, but she tilted to the side, hoping to throw the mare off complete balance. She nipped at the back knee, trusting her instinct to grasp on to the sooty, tender skin. But neither did she slow down then either. Hellä slammed her frame forward, reaching for higher speed. She veered off to the right and came balling back towards the mare, targeting the middle of her ribs and spine. Her head was tucked tightly against her neck once again, and now, she wasn’t hoping for anything but for a decent hit to the ribs or spine that would send the bay bitch running her ass back to her pathetic (probably small at that) mother that most likely didn’t even exist anymore. Attack: 1/3 Word Count: 681

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The activities began like the flurries that characterized the season. Everything started innocuously enough. The two mares galloped towards each other, both evidently craving the meaningless destruction of another equine - any other equine, formalities be damned. It registered somewhere in Moniz’s mind that she could not keep up this frantic pace in the limb-clutching snow; that she would have to use her agility to make well-timed maneuvers rather than simply running like a hamster on its wheel. But as she charged to meet the galloping gray, she granted herself permission to enjoy the small pleasure of an opened stride. There was nowhere to run in the Sanctuary, and even though Moniz didn’t particularly care for running, she enjoyed having the option. Two massive bodies launched themselves out of the snow. It always seemed incredible that half-ton grazing animals could take to the skies so easily, and this was no less true as these forms met. Moniz felt her cold teeth connect with the mare’s warm coat, pulling against the sweet spot where skin and mane joined. The other horse began to topple precariously and Moniz quickly congratulated herself. I am a damn champion. I barely gave her a love bite and already she’s getting ready to faceplant. Champion. It turns out Moniz was too hasty with her eagerness to start throwing confetti and handing out “MONIZ IS #1” party hats. On the way down, the dappled mare somehow contorted herself enough to bring her own teeth into the pony’s flat mutton withers. Moniz’s thick black mane trailed over her withers in a mess of frizz, and it was the sharp sting of these hairs being yanked from their roots that alerted her something had gone amiss. The teeth closed around the thick fat that padded her withers, and Moniz felt the pounding throb that promised a swollen bruise in some minutes. She grimaced as she finally brought her front legs back to the earth, the jarring frozen ground sending bolts of pain up from her hooves to the point where she had taken the attack. Moniz began lustily cussing out this Spanish fighter in her mind, distracted by her annoyance that this bitch dared to bite her. Moniz was lucky: a moment’s distraction can spell sure defeat, but the other mare was busy sliding around through the snow, wasting her breath with trash talk. The voice brought her back to the moment. Don’t hate this bitch. Fucking beat her. But she growled only, “Shut up and fight,” as the mare took off, charging towards her like a jousting horse approaching a target. Running and jumping in the thick snow had quickly begun to deplete Moniz’s stamina, so she simply stood, letting the other mare run straight towards her. She braced her stout legs under her short body, readying her balance and anticipating the impact. With the heavy snow piled around her legs and her low center of gravity, Moniz knew as long as she was not hit head on, she could keep her balance. I’m a balancing rockstar. She was. The larger horse’s body breezed past her and knocked into her side, but short and fat makes for a hard creature to topple and Moniz only needed to rock her bulk to her opposite side to stay up. Ha! Idiot. Moniz berated the younger mare. But again, her celebration was premature. When will she ever learn? The teeth closed around the back of Moniz’s left hock and she could not help but yelp as the pain migrated from withers to tendon. She felt blood quickly begin trickling down her leg and the sharp sting of the cold snow rubbing into the open wound. She did not know the snow would soothe the inflammation. All she knew was that it hurt like a sonofabitch. Meanwhile, the dappled mare continued darting through the snow. She approached from a plenty visible perpendicular angle. Moniz roared, a primal sound that ripped from her gut. Not this time. The mare drew within a stride of the pony’s ample midsection, and Moniz promptly swung her hindquarters towards her, keeping most of her weight on her relatively less painful front limbs. As she pivoted in this manner, she extended the uninjured leg with a powerful thrust aimed towards her enemy’s chest and shoulder area. As the pony’s mangled hind legs hit the ground, she gritted her teeth and wheeled around in the snow to pursue the mare, an enraged terrier going after the rat that had just clawed his nose. Moniz struck a sharp gray hoof towards the other mare’s front knee, hoping her smaller stature would allow her to connect with the more delicate structures of the lower limb. A smile surfaced despite the pain that rattled her small body. I can fight dirty, too. 800 words, [2/3] DA Image Link (new window)

The sweet taste of blood emerged her humanity from the covers. It stained her dirty lips and dripped to the snowy ground below, giving it a dark, red bathe. The crimson substance burned the electric cobalt color in her fawning pearls. Her nostril exhaled great amounts of silver mist as she galloped to Moniz in an acceleration of speed that was unbelievable for a Spanish draft such as her. Maybe it was because she had been locked in underground hell for so long and she had energy to waste away. Her neck was still arched in a charging position, ready to burst through any bones she could possibly get her body to connect with. ”I missed,” Hellä snapped at herself when the mare moved her rump away but then kicked her leg out. ”But not this time.” She smirked and slid to a gliding stop, turning her own rump to face the sooty bay’s. The dappled warrior kicked out several times, hoping to catch the mare on her back legs to make it where she would no longer be able to run to good. This was something she had watched others do before, trying to cripple the opponent to where they could barely walk. She had practice this trick plenty of times before, but all had failed. Now that the mare was bleeding and screeching in pain, it was much easier to abuse the small pony. This time, she would be the champion, and not this mangled rat. The pony now reached out trying to grab ahold Hellä. ”Wrong move, bitch.” The grey sneered to herself. She kicked out again, her tan talons trying to grasp onto the mare’s head, hoping to knock some sense into the stupidity of the mare’s action. Snow flew up along with her hooves, but the dapple mare wouldn’t mind as long it blinded the bay for a minute so she could catch her breath. If not, well then, she would just have to live and fight like she would any other time in battle. Hellä had to be strong, for that’s what Valhalla had said that was what her grandfather, Adalwulf, would always tell her. So, she took her heart to it and stepping into her grandsire’s footsteps to follow his moves of which she knew. As soon as her dark legs landed, she took off, not stopping to look at what effects she had caused the mare, for she did not care. She was nemesis at this moment, and most likely always would be. Hellä paid no gratitude toward her competitors, for that only gave them the idea of weakness, and the dappled mare had none of that nonsense. Or at least she had never wondered up to such thing. Kindness showed weakness, and weakness meant easy. She was not easy by any means. Hellä fought for what she deserved and what was fought for, was given. She did not waste her time mingling with a bunch of puppies for no credit at all. If she did not get what she earned, then she would make them pay. Death. She didn’t mind the crucial word at all, but to most, it sent fright streaming through their trembling veins. Her hoofs had cracked fragile skulls before, and she didn’t mind letting them lay before them again. To her, the snapping sound and the cries of pain were music to her ears. Death was not something most would enjoy, but Hellä, she loved to dance in the blood bathe. The dark grey mare wasn’t stupid unlike the bay; she knew exactly what she was doing when she headed straight for the cover of the forest. She had plotted out her awakening call when she had activated her last attack, but this once was far more vital. It would cause the mare to lose her strength and pride, it would make her cry for mercy. It would end her days of being such a humiliation to the world, because that was exactly what she was. A scrawny toy, to make fun of, to torture, and to make a clown of. But Hellä enjoyed making it all-so-much-easier on her worthless little corpse. She had not been blessed with any sort of position. She was worthless. She is a doll to kick in the dust, to pull on her hair, to be something to chew on, and yet, she was still, worth nothing. She would never be a part of anything important. She would always be a slave, never to be set free, only to be caged up and worked to her fullest efforts. But maybe she would even be worked over her limit. Now, was her time to be put into the worst pain she would ever experience in her entire, short lifespan. Cold, hard, merciless defeat. Attack: 2/3 Word Count: 800

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Well. That escalated quickly. The conditions for the little pony went from bad to worse. As Moniz tried to swing her ample bottom into the big mare, the hoof that she pivoted on slipped on the slick footing and awkwardly gave way under her own weight. The area around her lower canon bone throbbed dully, a sure sign that she had strained one of the tight muscles that supported that structure. Before Moniz could utter a single, “Goddamngoodfornothingshit!”, the hard surface of the other mare’s hoof smacked soundly against the side of Moniz’s haunches. Small blessings: being shorter worked to her advantage again, as the other mare could not smoothly connect with the pony’s hind legs and instead pounded sharply against the higher flesh of her hindquarters. It was an area that Moniz had thoroughly protected with by a thick layer of fat, but the rush of pain of yet another bruise began to pulse menacingly under her skin. This was all quite the shitshow for little Moniz. She could scarcely take stock of the many injuries that had spread over her prideful body, and the only thing she could concentrate on besides the pain that cried for attention was just how much she wanted to destroy this other mare. But before Moniz could collect herself, a slashing set of hooves and cloud of snow flew up in her face. By now, her survival instinct took control of her muscles and swung her thick head away from the weapons of pony destruction attached to the other mare’s legs. Her reaction time was not enough to completely avoid the blow, though, and as yet another hoof connected with her jiggly body, Moniz earned another bruise from this unpleasant scrap. The fleshy base of her neck absorbed the hit, and as the mare galloped off into the woods, Moniz roared furiously after her, “FUCKING COWARD!”. Here I am mangled to shit, bruised like a piece of rotten fruit, and this bitch won’t even stick around and fight face-to-face? She doesn’t deserve to get away with this. She won’t get away with this. I’m going to pummel her. The bleeding, aching pony never lost her determination, bless her cold heart. She was a stubborn thing, and she’d be six feet under the ground before she’d concede this fight. She might be able to kick my ass, but this bitch ain’t the brightest, Moniz thought grimly as she studied the tracks in the snow that led to the woods. The heavy snow marked out the path to her, and the sparse vegetation of winter provided little coverage, anyways. And I don’t have to waste energy moving through the snow – she’s cleared the way for me. Sweetheart, the pony thought with bitter sarcasm. The bloody left hock remained her gravest injury, so Moniz stumbled into a hobbling lope, the three-beat gait that allowed her to least stress that leg. She couldn’t move gracefully, but with the cleared path and the gentler gait, she managed efficiently enough. The many bruised spots on her body suffered from a pain that seemed to radiate out from the point of contact, like the armies of her body’s inflammatory response were marching in to their new stations from all corners. It made the entirety of her body feel weary with soreness, with several sharp peaks of pain where she had taken the many blows. Still, she could not help but be impressed with herself - beat to shit and I’m still scary enough that this bitch is running and hiding. Pretty badass. Yes, bleeding, battered pony. You’re such a badass. The little jaunt to the woods ended and Moniz slinked through the trees, her agility again coming into play as she still managed to swiftly navigate the undergrowth. Finding the object of all her rage, Moniz lunged through the trees with teeth bared, snapping hard at the point of the mare’s shoulder – a target she would never admit she had selected for its relative safety away from dangerous haunches and biting teeth. Still reeling with ire and beginning to feel the dizzying effects of her injuries, Moniz summoned what remained of her willpower for one final push. She abruptly tried to back her ass up against the mare, trying to get as little distance as possible between them before kicking out three times in quick succession towards the demon’s barrel. Three times: boom, boom, boom, with flattened little ears and prolonged indignant squealing, Moniz hurled all of her animosity at the mare, channeling it through the medium of her dark, solid hind hooves. 763 words, [3/3] DA Image Link (new window)

The dappled mare plowed through the snow and found herself a nice hiding ground. There was a large clog of birch trees, battling for the same positions. Soon, they would all be tangled together and before they knew it, they were going to be trying to get away from each other. Hellä found this place rather stealthy and a competitive war ground. She blended in with the trees unlike the bay, so it gave her advantage in the brutal fighting status. The soldier had already thought out her plan and knew it was exactly positive to be used in this specific area. She waited, listening for the ugly pony to follow her into her trap. Finally, the raspy breaths came slowly. ”Good, she’s wearing down.” Hellä smirked and waited. Moniz’s hooves were barely touching Earth, meaning that she was limping. The vibrations of what did touch ground level, traveled into the dapple’s veins in her steady legs. The bay approached closer and closer, the struggling breaths became louder, and the vibrations began to grow stronger. Her health – unlike Hellä’s – was decreasing in every moment the dirty mare made. She would have to give up soon, or else she would lose her life in a not-so-pleasant way. Moniz was slowly making her way, but as soon as she was close enough to the dapple, she let out hell. Her body came swarming towards Hellä, her gapping teeth grabbing a hold of the skin that was near the dock of her tail when the soldier turned her body to try and block her out. ”Damn it!” She cursed at herself and her teeth grinded against each other in pain as her ears catching the sound of her flesh ripping loose of roots that had firmly held on to it until this moment. The bay mare now turned to kick her, but Hellä didn’t let her get away with it. She now backed up, hoping to end up rear to rear so that the sharp kicks wouldn’t cause as much pain. The grey didn’t try to fight as the bitch tried to ram-sack her right in the hocks, for she only nicked her in the shanks, causing the slightest trouble. Now it was Hellä’s turn, and she didn’t take any time to jump into action. Her harks pinned down as she took off at a high-speed canter. She twisted throughout the forest, going as far as the bay mare could’ve seen, and then slid herself around. Her strong legs ran as hard as they could. She headed straight for the ribs, hoping to slam the dark mare into the birch tree that didn’t stand to far from her. If she hit, the move would end her, but if she missed, Hellä was doomed herself. Her health would bombard far down below to where she would have to tug around half of her limp body. Battling was nothing to joke about. You could win, you could lose, or you could lose yourself. It was more difficult to win, but not this time around. The grey soldier found herself quite comfortable when sparring such a small competitor, but she still kept her eyes open for anything the mare might pull out of her pony tricks. When it came to losing, you either lost by trying or lost by defeat. Hellä had never lost by defeat, she always tried to her fullest, for the strong were never weak and the weak were never strong. She was strong, according to her own thoughts in mind. If others thought she was weak, so be it, but she would never let herself believe that she could not conquer what she craved the most. Power. Hellä had wanted to be a ruler ever since she had met Adalwulf. He had been her footsteps to follow, and leadership to be copied. He was her everything. She didn’t know him for long, but she desired his knowledge to be pasted on to her, if at all possible. He was a legend to her, and all she wanted to do was to be involved in his war lord act. That’s when her battle history began, and she longed for her first taste of real blood. Her dreamland disappeared and now she was back to reality, wasting her time killing a worthless mare that would mean nothing if she wished for mercy. The bay pony wouldn’t mean anything if she were to lose her, what remained, bit of life. If her rib cage attack didn’t hit, she hoped the next one would. Her rump aimed towards the pony’s front legs, closing distance between the two as it back up. Her sharp claws struck out with speed and force, raising up to at least blood-dye the chestnut, which was filled with much more blood. Blam. Attack: 3/3 Word Count: 800

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Through blurred vision and aching muscles, Moniz felt her attacks land on what was now nothing more than a nebulous wisp of stormy gray. The other mare’s features were bleeding together like ink across a wet page, and Moniz knew consciousness would not be a luxury she enjoyed much longer. Still, as the delusional weariness of intense pain began to darken the peripheries of her vision, a manic grin spread across her face at the realization that she had made contact. I showed her… But the pony’s self-congratulations were cut short by more enraged fury as again the dappled mare took off. “Cowardly fucking bitch…” Moniz slurred drunkenly after her, the intoxicating pain pulling awkwardly through her voice as she staggered around to watch as the mare shrunk into the distance. If this mare expected Moniz to kiss her hooves and beg mercy, she had chosen the wrong pony to wrangle. Moniz did not give up on herself, stubborn to her last breath. She squared herself up to react to the oncoming charge, with no indication that she acknowledged the futility of this movement. “Comeandget… get me… worthless goodfornothing… WHORE,” she tried to yell, but her voice would only slither uselessly out of her until she managed to bark the last word. The speck was growing again now, looming closer at speed, and everything around the Spanish mare’s body faded to blackness. It barreled headfirst towards Moniz’s ribs, and the pony somehow had time to think beratingly, stupid reckless bitch. That would be her last thought for a while. Darkness engulfed her vision as she tried to hop out of the way of the oncoming train of horseflesh. Something hit her haunches, and they gave way – the first domino which set all the others in motion. The cold snow folded around her back legs – at least her fall was cushioned – and her weakened front half was powerless to resist the momentum of her heavy haunches pulling her down. As she toppled, her brain mercifully pulled the plug on her consciousness. Her body landed under the birch tree, the snow her coffin and the slender gray and white soldier her solemn headstone. “Here lies one stubborn bitch.” There was nothing more for the gray mare to kick but snow, and her flailing only further blanketed the dark bay pony. The cold and snow would accelerate the slow healing process, but Moniz didn’t know that. Moniz didn’t know anything at that moment. Moniz was out. Nobody’s home. Sorry, we’re closed. Come again soon. 424 words, [closing defense] DA Image Link (new window)

HELLA
Realism [-3.5]
Her front hocks lifted higher... Hocks only refer to a joint on the rear leg. The joint I think you're referring to on the front leg is known as the knee. And later, you write She nipped at the back knee. This is the hock joint, there is no knee on the rear limb. There are anatomy charts in the guide book for your use, I would recommend taking a look at them.
Her body flew past the mare, but she tilted to the side, hoping to throw the mare off complete balance. Powerplay- you can't dictate what your opponent is doing.
:: I really didn't see any indication of the damage Hella took after Moniz's first attack. You indicated that the attack hit, but there was no mention of any pain or injury. I know the dice roll was low, but you still need to indicate what damage was taken. I also think it was a little unrealistic that a simple bite from Moniz would have made the much larger Hella struggle for balance.
:: I really think there are way too many attacks going on in the first post. You bite at Moniz, run away, come back to bite her, run away, and then come back to bite her again. You've got to keep in mind that Moniz needs to respond to all of this. I think some of those words spent attacking could have been better put to use on emotion, which was really lacking in the first post.
...as she galloped to Moniz in an acceleration of speed that was unbelievable for a Spanish draft such as her. If it's unbelievable then don't do it- Hella's speed is pretty slow, a 4, so she really shouldn't be able to run very fast.
The pony now reached out trying to grab ahold Hellä. No she didn't. Moniz kicked twice, no biting.
Moniz’s hooves were barely touching Earth, meaning that she was limping. The vibrations of what did touch ground level, traveled into the dapple’s veins in her steady legs. Using vibrations to gain this knowledge is shaky at best- especially with all the snow covering the ground.
:: I really would have liked to see more damage taken in the last post, and much more description of what damage was taken.
Her harks pinned down as she took off at a high-speed canter. She twisted throughout the forest... Again, keep in mind your stats. Hella is not this agile, especially not in a forest as thick as the one you described earlier in your post.
She headed straight for the ribs, hoping to slam the dark mare into the birch tree that didn’t stand to far from her. Powerplay, Moniz never mentioned being near a birch tree and she could have moved anyway.


Emotion [-1.5]
:: There were moments where I felt that you were trying to give me emotion, but they were few and far between. For the most part the fight was very dry. Just because Hella is war minded doesn't mean she doesn't feel anything.


Prose [-1]
...looking for the perfect striking position that her teeth to rip the soft flesh away.
...hoping to catch the mare on her back legs to make it where she would no longer be able to run to good. Run well.
:: There were a plethora of mistakes in Attack 2/3 and 3/3 posts, far too many to list individually.


Readability [-1.5]
The dappled soldier had wished for a good battle for days on end now, and today, was when it came. Already I'm seeing lots of sentences like this that aren't necessarily wrong, but that affect readability because of the odd punctuation. Commas often mean pause (or separate a list) so if you don't want me to pause don't put one in!
:: Attack 2/3, paragraph 3- The entirely of this paragraph made little to no sense to me. It was poorly worded, missing words, and the second attack made little to no sense, making it really hard to figure out what was going on.


Finally tally: 26-7.5= 18.5HP

:: The quality of writing during this fight was extremely poor. I strongly urge you to slow down, read your posts (out loud even) and check them for grammar mistakes before posting them. You won, but only because of some lucky dice rolls. You also really need to pay attention to your character's stats- the values aren't arbitrary and it's important that follow the general guideline you've been given. There was at least one instance of powerplay in every post, which is concerning. Never dictate what the other player is doing, where they are standing, etc., unless they explicitly state it in their own post.


MONIZ
Realism [+4]
Moniz struck a sharp gray hoof towards the other mare’s front knee, hoping her smaller stature would allow her to connect with the more delicate structures of the lower limb. This seemed a little awkward to me since Moniz would be chasing after Hella. I was trying to figure out how Moniz could kick and run at the same time.
:: You did a great job translating damage rolled into damage taken.
She abruptly tried to back her ass up against the mare... This wasn't a bad attack, I just wanted slightly more clarification on the movement. I was a little confused about how Moniz went from facing Hella to having her butt facing her.
:: Great job in the last post following HP and having Moniz blackout. The HP was altered after the fight, but I won't hold you accountable for that, since it was missed before.


Emotion [+3]
I am a damn champion. I barely gave her a love bite and already she’s getting ready to faceplant. Champion. It turns out Moniz was too hasty with her eagerness to start throwing confetti and handing out “MONIZ IS #1” party hats. This. Hilarious. Laughed out loud!
beat to shit and I’m still scary enough that this bitch is running and hiding. Pretty badass. Moniz is fantastic. I haven't stopped laughing this entire fight.


Prose [+4]
It was an area that Moniz had thoroughly protected with by a thick layer of fat Extra word.


Readability [+2.5]
:: Almost perfect, I think I had to go back one time to reread something and figure out what was happening.


Finally tally: 3+13.5= 16.5HP

:: I don't have many comments. Your writing is very clear and it's obvious you gave a lot of attention to your writing during this fight. Moniz is hilarious and I was laughing the entire time- she's got a great personality and you did a great job of letting that shine. You had some unlucky dice rolls, but overall I think you have an excellent feel for battle.