One more day in this god-forsaken cave might kill you. Or at least you think it might. Sure, mocking Ampere was great fun and you’d do it again in a heartbeat, but it seems you scared her away pretty badly. For now, at least. She’ll have to come back eventually, because otherwise she’s going to get eaten by that stupid darkness up there and then who would you be able to mock? You mean, sure, you’d find somebody new to call your rival, to harass endlessly, to say one word to and know it’s going to send their blood boiling. But… The truth is, you’re not sure you’d find anybody quite as interesting as the little Blue. She does have a funny way of literally exploding at the slightest provocation. So anyways, locked down here in the caves, you figure you may as well keep your skill honed. After all, losing all your talent while you’re waiting from your orders from Sun Man doesn’t really make any sense. Lifting your nose to the ceiling, you cry out- it’s a sound the Asylum should know well by now. And one of them will come, you’re certain of that. How many times have you told them that to be strong they must train, to win a home they must first practice? Not in so many words, and not nearly so eloquently, but certainly you have told them. And certainly they have understood. Looking around you, you try to assess your surroundings. The waterfall falls in behind you, a soft white light from the ground above lighting the stony floor around you and giving a dusky hue to the rest of the air. You know that the moist, rocky ground will be slippery and difficult to run on, but you think this might be better for you. You’re not fast on a good day- and today is not a good day, so better to keep the fighting close. After all, you’re going on half a vine. Detoxing. You’ve been detoxing for the last week, or however long you’ve been down here, but nearly a lifetime of addiction is not ended in a week, or even a month. And you’re not mentally ready, anyways. You’ve already sworn off rehab. Slipping your bag from your shoulder, you move to hang the thing on a stray rock that juts out from the wall. No sense in having it damaged again. There’s still a hole in it from your last spar- an unexpected run-in with a crazy woman that bested you. The thought of your failure gives you new desire to spar, even in your current state. Cold sweats and shaking aside, you’ve got something to prove. What good is a general if he can’t even win his fight? You move back towards the center of the room, eyes on the doorway, each step you take clinking with the sound of metal on stone- horseshoes that you found oddly attached to your hooves upon waking one morning. Perhaps those gods you’ve denounced so many times have actually smiled kindly upon you. Whatever the reason they’re there, you’re pleased with them. You’ve never actually tried it, but you’re reasonably sure a hit to the ribs with hooves of metal would cause major damage. @[Cashmere]- Feel free to attack first if you want. 0/3 Posts Scenery as described

She turns the corner and you watch her cautiously, but not afraid, your brown eyes wandering over her body with the instinct of a warrior. Even in your somewhat altered state, you are still a fighter at heart. So your eyes take her in, noting the large height advantage you have over her, the jewelry that she wears in her left ear, her build, the glass horn that spirals out of her forehead. Automatically, you widen your stance as she heads toward you, the motion now almost ingrained within you, occurring without thought. Her approach causes your ears flick in time with her hoof steps. The dampness around their base makes them itch, but it’s something you must ignore. What you don’t ignore is how close the woman tries to get to you. It’s far too close for your liking and you can’t help but take two steps back. She may be family, but you’ve already decided you don’t like her that much. Perhaps only the Phantom Seeker could get so close… if she wanted to. Dear sir. A grumbling sound of disdain fills your throat and vibrates your chest as she carries on about not fighting, and intruding, and options. But your mind is wandering- seeing and hearing, but not understanding. Understanding takes consciousness that you’re having a terrible time hanging on to right now. You lower your ears to your head, tail flicking around your hocks in annoyance and teeth grinding together for good measure. In fact, you’re about to tell her to fuck off when she seems to have a sudden change of heart- she’s rearing. The way her scream echoes through the cavern leaves you disoriented for a moment. Though you can see her in front of you, it seems like she’s all around you. The echoing is wild and hollow sounding, causing your eyes to roll from the chaos that suddenly seems to be everywhere. Of course, you should have expected the attack. A trick- the oldest trick in the book- and you hate that you missed it. At least you had the wherewithal to back up first, or you’d be in a lot more trouble right now. But then, maybe this isn’t so bad. You’ve always thought that rearing up right in front of somebody was a stupid decision. You lunge forward, holding your head out to the right so as to avoid her horn. Her hooves batter into your chest in response, leaving your muscles bruised in addition to their trembling, but you don’t stop. You thrust your left shoulder forward, trying to press back against the mare to cause her to lose her balance. Never mind that she’s a herd mate, never mind that there’s a stone floor beneath the two of you, never mind that there’s a more important war being waged outside of this cavern. In this moment, you don’t care about any of it. Because your body needs reprieve from this shaking, your mind needs a rest from knowing how close you are to having no vines left. And even if this is only a temporary distraction, it’s still a distraction. One that Cashmere is going to be sorry to have wandered in to, you’re sure. For good measure, while you’re shoving forward, you reach your head around her shoulder to try and bite at her withers, teeth clamping down soundly, though on what you’re not sure. Flesh, hair, the stagnant air? You’re distracted from knowing your answer. Those bruises on your chest have finally caught up with you and they strongly protest all the sudden motion, tightening down and restricting motion. It doesn’t help that you don’t like the way your horseshoes slip on the stone. In your head, your boggart suddenly flashes you images of Gaucho and Archibald, of the sweeping blackness that has thrust you from your home, reminding you with these images that you should be above ground fighting monsters instead of below, fighting your family. But you don’t care. You’re being selfish, because you can’t stand this shaking and this sweating. You need this reprieve, you need this break. And something else in the back of your mind whispers as well. It’s not only you that needs this. Your warriors are woefully inadequate. If you’re supposed to be absconding with the general position it won’t look good if you just let them run around doing idiotic things like rearing the face of an opponent who doesn’t give one flying fuck about their safety. After all, you just tried to ram into the gray girl in front of you. Does she really think that the monsters above won’t take that chance to rip out her very intestines? No, you decide through your foggy mind, this is for her good as well as your own. Post: 1/3 WC: 799

You should have known you were going to regret trying to lung with those stupid horseshoes on. Your leg muscles bunched, trying to push you forward, but you didn't really get too far before you found your right leg slipping outward, metal sliding against damp stone. Stupid. Stupid, stupid decision. Even as you feel your leg sliding, you know you should have picked a different room in this hell hole of a cavern to fight in. You manage to catch yourself from falling, but not without pulling at the muscles inside of your leg first. They burn, twitching their displeasure as you try to gather yourself back up. You're used to slipping, but... this is a little different. And, all the while that you're flailing about, teeth snapping on empty air, your whinnying your displeasure, the vicious sound echoing off the stony walls and reverberating, multiplying your frustration. You'd been praising the gods just a moment ago, thanking them for the gift of your horseshoes, and now? Now you're quite convinced that they hate you, if you didn't think it before. Cashmere does something stupid, rearing up in the face of her opponent, and you get punished for it? They give you metal shoes only to watch you slip and slide like a fool? What did you do? What did you ever do? You can't think of single thing to make you deserve it. Of course, your companion can. But you don't even have time to roll your eyes as she sends you a picture of Ampere. Cashmere takes advantage of your still recovering form, lunging with her mouth open, her teeth clamping down on the previously damaged portion of your chest, grinding the bruise brutally and making you grit your teeth in response to the sharp sensation. Automatically, you try to step backwards, away from the pain, only to slip again on the stone and feel the muscles you pulled in your leg screaming at you once again. Having not even recovered from their first assault, they are thrashed anew and they're none too pleased about it. Neither are you. You bellow again, a vocal beast in a cave that's too small to contain you. Are you really such an idiot? Are you really so unworthy of the general position that the gods see fit to beat you down at every chance they get? Are you really so terrible that you can't even hit a stupid mare standing right in front of you. Your mind swirls through various layers of fog and detox, berating yourself and the gods, calling yourself weak and gods callous, spiteful and useless. Her scream as she lets go of your chest brings you back to life, though, and you reach out without thought, teeth aiming for the first thing you think of. You try to clamp them down around the earring she wears, using your height to reach over her and try to avoid her horn, and when you think you might have the metal piece your teeth, you shake your head and pull back, trying to rip the thing from her very ear. Even as your reaching, even before your teeth close down, however, you can feel the chastising of your companion in your head. She floats about in the room, just the faintest wisp of black hiding in the shadows, watching you, and she does not approve of your cruelty. You can feel it. It drives you on, spurs you forward, drives you into further action, and just as you are done shaking your head like a fool, you pick your front foot up and swing it forward, hoping to drive your massive hoof into the front of Cashmere's left cannon bone, to make her scream the way you have screamed, to make her curse the gods and hate herself the way you are now. You try to move, to give yourself a better position in the battle, but suddenly you find yourself feeling an emotion you haven't felt in... too long. Is it the lack of drugs, or the darkness above? Is it the thought that you might never achieve the greatness you've spent your whole life striving for? Whatever it is, you feel it deep within your bones. Fear. You're afraid to move, to have the horseshoes slide against the stone again, to slip and do even more damage to your leg muscles, to simply rip them in two instead of just pulling them. You're afraid that if you try anything, the gods will smite you down where you stand and mock you while you crumple to the ground in a heap of drug-wasted flesh and bones. Oh, how the mighty do fall when their mind is a wasteland. Post: 2/3 WC: 789

Your teeth land on her ear. The taste of metal on your tongue is so much like blood that you can't be sure you haven't made her bleed. And, when you let go and pull away, ears ringing from the way the mare screams, you find that you have. You see the red trickling down her ear, the earring dangling so much more awkwardly now and you only lament that you did not rip the thing fully off. And then, like a cherry on top, you feel your hoof slam against her cannon. It's a good hit, solid, and at this point, even in if you did not have the fear of the gods building in your bones, you don't think you would be able to move. You're shocked into place. She crumbles to the ground before you, hitting the stony ground and you cringe for her as the thought of your ribs beating against the unforgiving floor enters your mind. You can't believe that kick made her fall, are at a loss that you hit her so well with a flailing move that was merely supposed to buy you time to gather your senses. You feel crazy, like you're being sent from high to low and back again, the gods raising you and then casting away, and you don't know what they want. You don't know what you're doing to make them tease you so. You might be happier to just not believe in them at all. Too bad you've seen one of the gods- kind of takes all the mystery out of it. And then, like something out of a crazy story book, the mare begins to roll. Rolling? Really? And now you're just screaming in frustration, in hatred, in anger. “ROLLING?!” You bellow, your voice incredulous, finding it unbelievable that she would do such a thing, and all the while, you're backing up, slowly, trying not to fall as your metal hooves try to find purchase on the ground. Step by agonizing step you put room between yourself and the purple belly that's now turned up at you. But despite your efforts, despite your anger and screaming, you don't do enough. Her hooves still scrape across your belly, the edges tearing at the sweaty skin, skidding, sliding and abrading your flesh. A few slow trickles of blood beginning to drip from your flesh to the floor, leaving your mark on this cavern. The pain awakens you from your paralyzing rage, reminding you that there is time yet to make your mark, and you have to tell yourself to wait for the perfect moment. She begins to gather her hooves underneath her, to rise from the floor, and you dig your left hind into the ground, using your shoe to give you leverage against an imperfection in the floor, a bump that you try to use to your advantage. And, when the moment is right, when you think she's almost done getting up but not yet balanced, you lunge, trying again to slam into her side. Your hind right screams in anger. Though you did not use it to push off, you still need it to drive you forward, and the muscles there have been assaulted again and again. They twinge, shortening your stride, and you hope that you'll have the speed and length you need to crash into the woman before she is fully risen. You lift your head, pressing your chest forward, the bruise there begging not to be used as a ramming rod, but you only press your teeth together, to at least prevent biting your tongue against the pain that you, strangely, hope will come. You don't even care where you might hit her at this point, though you aim for her side. It would be just as effective to slam her anywhere- her neck, her rump. Whatever. You need this to work. This is your last chance. Perhaps the worst of this is that you won't even have anything to save you when this is all over. You won't have plants to bury your nose in, won't have drugs to save you from your physical pain and mental agony. You'll have to deal with this on your own, a shaking and shivering stallion, a broken shadow of what you formerly were. Because, when it all came down to the end, when the going got tough, you have found your true character. You may pretend to be strong, you may act like you are the best thing to ever have graced this earth, but in the end... You're simply weak- an addict. Like your lungs need air, you need those plants. But, you think to yourself as your body continues to sail forward, at least you know yourself. At least you're not delusional. Post: 3/3 WC: 800

CASHMERE
Realism [-3]
I think you have a good handle on the timing of motions in fights, but I think you need to read more spars and watch the way actual horses fight/play to get a better idea of what they do and how they do it. Of course we play our horses with much more advanced thought than is normal, but they still have certain instincts and limits to their body that discourage certain behaviors, such as getting onto their back on the ground to attack. Horses barely go on the ground when comfortable, much less during battle, and this is because they have no strengths like this and it takes a lot for them to get down and back up, it’s not a quick process by any means.

I would also like to see more description about your attacks - I wasn’t even sure you were rearing in your first post. With so much of your max word count still available, I definitely suggest taking the time to explain yourself more clearly, so that both your opponent and the judge can understand and visualize what you’re conveying.

You brought up Oxy’s locoweed in your second post, and that the aroma of it makes Cashmere light in the head and encourages you to fight. Locoweed’s effects are attained through ingestion, and if they were to be had through smell, I would imagine the weed would need to burn and the smoke be inhaled, so this was not a realistic effect. You also want to be cautious of using effects like this or adrenaline to boost your character too much.

And finally, please be cautious of your wording! There was a point in your third post where you said you tasted Oxy’s blood after you bit him when Oxy never described it as anything more than a bruise. You also had an instance of powerplay in your second post where you said “His leg slips out from underneath him, and he jolts to the side, trying to regain his balance.” Only Oxy can determine if this occurred. I do understand this is an instance where Oxy had a critical miss, however I did not see any statement from Oxy on the die thread or on the fight thread that this was how she wanted Oxy to miss, Sevin contacted me and said she told you over Skype so I did not remove points for this, but even so, it’d be best for you to be cautious and just never assume or write a character doing something. You can only control your own character. It would have been perfectly fine if you had said you think that is what happened to Oxy, but you cannot state that is what happened to Oxy without him saying so first.

You have great ideas, but I think you need to do a bit more research to shape those ideas into something realistic. Practice makes perfect!


Emotion [+1]
Although I really enjoyed the character’s dual personality, it did not submerse me into the character. You told me about how I should feel, but you did not make me feel it. This is where taking the time to be more descriptive and detailed can make a huge difference if you have the word count available. I also would have liked to see more of Cashmere through the fight, a struggle between the two and perhaps even desperation. Having Cashmere briefly take over would also be a good way to describe a failed attack or dodge.


Prose [+2]
Overall your posts read well, but at times were choppy and abrupt with the way they switched the focus of the writing. I would suggest using more transitions and again adding more depth and detail to explore what you are writing about, adding in a bit more vocabulary variety too.


Readability [+2]
Your posts were definitely easy to understand, just a couple typos in most every post! Don’t forget to proof read :)


Finally tally: 21+2= 23 HP


OXY
Realism [+4]
I thought you did a fantastic job playing off the terrain of the cave coupled with the metal horseshoes. I also loved you applying most of your critical miss damage in your second post to your slipping rather than the attack, especially considering the attack was just a bite, great job! I would have liked to have seen you do similar with your damage in your third post considering the attack was coming from a horse lying on their back, so I think you had more realistic options you could have taken in that scenario. Overall well written attacks and damage!


Emotion [+3]
There were a few times where I laughed out loud reading Oxy, such as “Are you really so terrible that you can't even hit a stupid mare standing right in front of you?”
I really enjoyed his constant dilemma with the gods throughout and his justification of the fight. The banter (thoughts and visions I guess) with him and his companion is great. The ending was especially powerful and was a nice conclusion to the whole fight. Great job, especially with sprinkling emotion all through your post and not just in intro and finishing chunks.


Prose [+4]
Your posts are definitely well written and though you do maintain a sort of humorous quality to Oxy you manage to do so in a sophisticated way that does not distract from the reading or a lot of the hidden, more somber tones to his character and his actions.


Readability [+2]
Very clear to read, just a couple typos all throughout ;)


Finally tally: 15+13= 28 HP