the Rift


[JUDGED] French Kisses [Spar- Ciceron]

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
#1
The best part about all the stupid shadows and darkness and all that crap being gone again? Probably that you can be high. Well... no, there's no probably about it. It's definitely the fact that you can be high. Plus the fact that you're never going to stop being high. That's a pretty good perk too. As if to prove your point, you've literally filled your bag to the point of being stuffed, green leaves poking out the top, the sides bulging like they're trying to tear apart. No, you definitely weren't gentle when you were picking the plants. Besides, who knows when the next time you'll get to go to the beach is. Gods only know that the Lesbians are probably going to want to assign you some stupid mission to further prove your worth. Not that you haven't proven your worth already, it's just that apparently nobody wants to get around to naming you general. But that's fine, you just call yourself general. Close enough.

So anyways, now that you're thoroughly high, the darkness seems mostly gone, and you're self-named general, what are you supposed to be doing? Practicing, of course. Conveniently, you seem like you're in a pretty good place. Plus, bonus, all your major wounds from your prior fights with that purple moron and Snowflake have more or less healed. Life is just serendipitous that way, sometimes.

Though now that you think of it... where are you, anyways? You look around, trying to find a familiar landmark, but you're like 98% certain you've never seen this place before. Weird, because you actually spend a lot of time wandering around when you're high on your precious locoweed. But anyways, the place. You guess it's not so bad. There's a pool of water a little ways off, probably far enough not to be a concern in a fight, but present nevertheless. It's the willows that are of the most interest to you. Their bows hang down all around, creating a weird series of blind spots and bright spots of light. But you guess it'll be good to train in some new terrain. Who knows where the Asylum will live now- it hasn't been lost on you that the swamp has been fully eradicated.

For good measure, you go ahead and bellow out some random noise, beginning to trot around in the snow. Maybe your wobbling and drooling will make you look like an easy target and you'll get some weakling to come attack you. Nothing like winning to make you feel good about yourself.


@[Ciceron] :: Terrain as described, an inch or two layer of snow covering the ground, cold air, about noon with no clouds. OOC Teaching spar, standard spar rules.
Post| 0/3
WC| 426
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

Ciceron Posts: 315
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 6 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kiara :: White Tiger :: Poison nickel
#2

Confinement within stone walls is no place for those who live to see the sun rise and fall each day. It does something to the sane and even more damage to the mentally damned or wounded. This thought brought the smallest of smirks to the dappled stallions maw as he wandered not really sure of his intended destination, but still moving no less. The darkness was not something that appealed to his tastes so the time spent below had been tough to say the least. While it had been mostly unpleasant there were the odd things that managed to stand out in his mind providing some light to the darkness. Torment had nearly driven him to the point of lashing out in frustration but somehow he had made it out alright without doing anything he would later regret. Pent up energy had brought him to where he now stood atop a small ridge gazing around at the landscape before him. Silver eyes narrowed as movement caught his attention before the sound of another could be heard all around seeming to call out for anyone to do as they wished. In a way it was slightly amusing to watch the stag wander around like a drunk not seeming to know which way was up, but it was also rather pathetic. Shaking his head with a chuckle he gently reached down to grasp the vines at his feet to lift the egg from where it rested between his front feet. This was something that would need to be carefully hidden away in a safe place away from prying eyes, well at least until he could return to take care of it.

Latent curiosity and the complete lack of something better to do drove him to approach the other stag with caution. Maybe some training would help him to blow off some steam. Tipping his crown forward as he walked so his horn was at the defense if needed, he watched every staggered movement of the brown creature before him. Muscles rippled over its pelt with each movement yet the drool and ataxic state it seemed to exhibit was rather interesting. Was this poor fool just naturally in this kind of form or was the entire escapade an act to draw attention to himself? Maybe the long dwelling of confinement had done more damage than he had originally thought.

Stopping a few feet from where it circled aimlessly his own call announced himself. White clouds of mist swirled up as his warm breath hit the cold atmosphere that consumed much of Helovia bringing along with it the icy powder beneath their hooves. Focusing his orbs to the stallion he waited to see what the response would be, it was the least he could do to determine if this was going to be worth his time or not.



••WORDS: 474 •• TAGS: @[Oxy] •• NOTES: This might be a little rough as it has been quite a while since I have sparred XD Criticize away :) ••



Table by Moonstone Designs
[Image: ciceron_by_foxyfirewings-d7npcjn.png][Image: untitled_2_by_moonstone_designs-d9fwqyy.png]
Pixel Base- BronzeHalo
**Please Tag Me In All Posts**
Permission to attack, use magic and injure with the exception of maiming or 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
#3
A call answers your own and you jerk your head wildly to find it. Where? You look left. You look right. You see nothing. Until you do. The spotted stallion materializes before you, having moved around some willow branches that were blocking your vision. Or maybe it's all the locoweed that's making it so hard to see. It's a little confusing right now, trying to determine the difference between the two. Still, you watch him, his horn dipping down. Defense? Aggression? You almost laugh out loud. He has a sword- built for long distances- but you? You have daggers, close quarters weapons, and you're not afraid to use them when you need to. For show, you bob your head a few times, hoping they will glint in the sunlight. No big deal. They're probably really intimidating with all that drool running out of your mouth.

As you continue to trot about, brilliantly wasting energy while the spotted stud stands and watches you, you try to formulate some sort of plan. Any plan, really, would be ideal. Unfortunately, wading through your mind is like wading through a bog of molasses. Everything is slow and a little hazy- you're definitely not doing yourself any favors at this point and the battle hasn't even started yet. But you couldn't help yourself. After so many weeks locked away in a cave with no drugs to see anywhere, you went a little overboard. Okay. You went a lot overboard.

It's the tug of your bag (which you unfortunately forgot to take off) at your shoulder that finally gives you an idea. A distraction. You've used the idea before once or twice, throwing the thing into somebody's face, but it seems unlikely that non-nonchalantly taking the man bag off of your body at this point will really work. Besides, it's holding way too many locoweed vines to just be tossed about willy-nilly. In the end, it's your companion that finally has a good idea. Which, for the record, is entirely annoying, since she seems intent on getting you to like her at every opportunity. Just for good measure, you remind her that she's worthless before accepting the (very hazy) mental image that she has sent you.

Immediately, you set yourself to a course, trying to aim your path towards the spotted stud's right shoulder, approaching at an angle from the front. At the same time, your invisible wisp of a boggart travels to the gray's left side, using her innate ability to become whatever it is that haunts a horse's nightmares. Or your nightmares. You're definitely not left out of her tricks and hijinks.

Without any ado, she becomes a perfect copy of Ciceron's egg. Of course, you have no idea what she's doing and your ears quickly fall back on your head. Great. An egg. Absolutely terrifying. You're definitely not impressed, but you're a little too invested to turn back now so you just turn your head away in disgust. Besides, it takes all the concentration you have just to stay upright. Clearly you can't spar with anybody if you're laying laterally in the snow. However, since you're so preoccupied, you miss the conjured image of the egg cracking in two, a yellow yolk spilling out onto the clean white snow, the object very clearly damaged beyond all repair. But known or not, it is probably your only hope.

You spur your body into a faster trot, more than a little afraid of what will happen if you try to canter in your current state, and you thrust your right shoulder and chest forward. If the gray hasn't moved, you'll hopefully hit him pretty solidly on the rib cage, maybe knock him off balance or cause some bruising. But these things have a way of never working out the way they should. As for your companion- she's a quick worker. Your drug habit and annoyance didn't let her image last more than a few seconds. She only hopes those seconds were enough. It's a shame your such an asshole. She actually likes you... somehow.


Post| 1/3
WC| 679
Comments| I'm not going to comment on the quality of your post at this point, since it won't be judged or taken into consideration during the judging. What I did want to note right now is that the font on your table is really small. In responding to you it's not so bad, because I just copy and paste it into word and enlarge the font. The judges will want to read the posts directly from this thread, however, so you'll definitely be doing them a favor to increase the font size!
Good luck!
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

Ciceron Posts: 315
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 6 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kiara :: White Tiger :: Poison nickel
#4

It was like watching a soap opera that never seemed to come to a conclusion, boring and pointless as ever. The stag before him seemed to barely notice his presence at first and continued along his worn messed up circles in a state of complete disregard. Whatever this fellow had happened upon had definitely screwed up the neurological functioning of its brain to a point of no known return back to the present day. In a way he wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for the creature or be disgusted with it in all the drool and ataxic movement. His expression was likely one of confusion with the traces of disbelief, never had he come across someone acting so..so strangely. Whether it be intentional or not the other stallion was starting to give him the creeps.

In the same train of thought his original intention of training finally faded to grey as it became clear this poor sucker was not worth the time or effort. The decision was proven to be rather premature with the next turn of events to come. Silver orbs refocused from the rampant thoughts to the bay brute sensing a direct change in the behaviour he had walked in on. No longer did the creature wobble around aimlessly in circles but rather had turned to carry forth a straight line in his direction, well at least an attempt at a straight line. His immediate reaction was to lower his head aiming his horn at the oncoming mass and brace himself preparing for impact but something else seemed to catch his attention distracting him from the incoming danger. As his mind drifted to the left so did the rest of him, that little saying you need to look where you need to go well its true at least for where you wind up.

The silver blue egg crumbling before his eyes was enough to hold his attention for much longer than he would have liked. His heart contracted painfully as the feeling for loss threatened to consume him like a flood pulling him down into the depths in a matter of seconds. The only flicker of illusion that ripped him from the tricks emotion was the shimmering appearance of the damned boggart as it took on its natural form again. Harks shot back pinning themselves to the grey's neck as they became lost in the mass of hair covering this portion of flesh. In the same instant the nerves in his right shoulder scream loudly alerting him to the pain of impact caused by the instigator of the whole ordeal. Catching himself in the nick of time, he was thankfully able to avoid a trip into the snow underfoot. Anger and detest spread like wildfire through his veins lighting every nerve to immediate attention to respond at will.

Whipping his head forward with teeth bared he makes an attempt to grab a hold of the shapeshifter to teach it a lesson in the same motion as his body is thrown into a buck blindly striking out with his hind feet hoping to make contact with some part of the obnoxious bay stud. How dare they make a play at his inner most emotions like that! If he has anything to say about it they will pay for that trickery by the time he is done with them both.


••WORD COUNT: 561 •• TAGS: Oxy •• NOTES: Is this font size better do you think? It appears larger on my screen but I know its different for everyone depending on the device/monitor you are using to view it XD Also I apologize for the delay, we are in the midst of moving and it is taking forever. ••



Table by Moonstone Designs
[Image: ciceron_by_foxyfirewings-d7npcjn.png][Image: untitled_2_by_moonstone_designs-d9fwqyy.png]
Pixel Base- BronzeHalo
**Please Tag Me In All Posts**
Permission to attack, use magic and injure with the exception of maiming or 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
#5
Maybe you should give your little companion more credit for what she does... Maybe. You wouldn't want to be premature with any praise but she's done you a great service. At least this time. Whatever the hell was so upsetting about that egg- you're still not really sure- gives you that moment, that instant, that you need to get yourself close to the unicorn and safely around his sword. And with your biggest hurdle cleared, it's no surprise that your right shoulder rams into his. You relish the way the pain reverberates through your muscles, drink in the feeling of that new bruise that will form under your skin. It's give and take, a double edged sword- pain for him but you must take pain to yourself. You do not mind. Whether it's the drugs or the sunlight or something else, you are strangely happy on this day and nothing will bring you down.

Even so, accepting of the wound or not, your shoulder still twinges when you move, the muscles tightening down and restricting motion. You do not particularly relish the feeling but you use the pain as a motivator. It drives you forward, hindlimbs gathering beneath you as you push forward, your body fighting to stay upright after the return of your beloved locoweed. It's been so long, too long, since you have lived under her influence. And detox... you shudder to think of it once more. Already, you've made a promise to yourself that you'll never go without the drug again. Already, you've done your best to return your body to the pleasantly high state that you so enjoy. What you didn't count on was the difficulty of getting back into the rhythm and sway of things. You thought it would come naturally, that your muscles would remember all the right ways of holding you up against gravity. You guess you were wrong, because this is proving to be rather difficult.

Suddenly, there is a chaotic explosion of motion. The unicorn reaches out, biting, snapping, grabbing for your companion. And while she may be but a wisp of a creature, invisible at most times, you have learned very well that they feel pain. You are reminded of this fact when your thoughts are suddenly overpowered by childish emotions, the boggart suffering from the bite and feeling very afraid, rushing away from the scene of the fight as quickly as she can. The sudden explosion of extracorporeal feelings is enough, just enough, to distract you. You miss the distinctive tightening of gluteal muscles that indicate a buck about to happen. Damn her to high hell for getting in the way. Your lips turn to a scowl. So much for that good mood.

The unicorn's hooves fly off the ground and you throw your legs underneath you, trying to skid to a stop, not yet past his hind end. It's too much; you're too big. His hooves barely brush your fur, causing no damage, but it is not his hooves that are the problem. Your right shoulder, with already tight muscles, is assaulted again, new pain firing up the limb, although not much worse than before. As for your left shoulder, the old injury there is reawakened. It is just a whisper of pain now, a reminder of the wound that the crazy gray mare inflicted upon you, but you are coming to realize it is a wound that will plague you for the rest of your life. You make a note to find her and kill her later. For now, you've got this unicorn to take care of.

Lunging forward and to the left, you return his favor and throw your limbs into a buck, pushing past the pain it causes due to placing all of your weight on your front limbs. You care not where your hooves hit, if they hit at all, but you were at least trying to aim for his rib cage. When your hooves reach solid ground again, you waste no time. You immediately begin to circle back to the left, hoping you'll be quick enough to make it back to him before he takes off. The turn seems almost agonizingly slow to you, your body nearly tipping outwards, the locoweed still playing its dangerous tricks on your balance. Somehow you manage to save yourself and you complete your 180 degree turn, hoping to face perpendicular to the Gray's right side. Almost blindly, you reach out with teeth bared, snapping and biting, trying to grab his flesh and pinch him, bruise him, assault him. Let him enjoy that pain.

Around you, the willow branches blow gently in the breeze, protesting the violence you've brought to their intimate lands. You're deaf to their pleas to stop; the sounds of battle have invaded your ears.


Post| 2/3
WC| 800


Comments| Font looks better, thank you! Now to the fun stuff! The first thing I notice is that you still had a couple hundred words left to use. It isn't always a bad thing to write less, but if you've got them you'll definitely want to consider using them. At this point it's hard for me to tell if you did a good job translating dice roll damage to actual damage. You give only one sentence about the pain and then sort of ignore it for the rest of the post. Right now there is no concrete description of the damage so I don't know if it is transient or longer lasting, if it is going to cause him to limp or if there is just bruising, if it's muscle or bone, etc. Those are good things to consider when trying to describe a wound.

I'd also like to see more description of Ciceron's reaction and emotion regarding the hit. It's not that you don't give it to me- you do, saying that he's angry; however, you also use the word detest and I find that to be interestingly strong. I'm not saying it's wrong or right, I just find it interesting, but there's little to back it up. Does he hate being tricked? Does he know Oxy from somewhere else and just thinks he's the worst thing ever? Does he hate drug addicts? How much did he love that egg? Why? Obviously those specific questions won't be applicable in every post, but questions like that can really help you put into words the emotions that Ciceron is feeling; being able to write those emotions down is important since emotion has its own category on the rubric. I do get the sense that you're aware of the need for emotion in the battle posts and are trying to give it, but I don't feel especially drawn into it. Sometimes it's actions that speak louder than descriptions. If Ciceron detests Oxy then let him show that detest- fight dirty, go for the tender spots, really throw Ciceron into the attacks with his whole body- stuff along that lines. Unless, of course, he is a noble warrior and won't fight dirty even against the man who killed his mother. And if that's the case, let us know that. Let us know he's struggling with wanting to smash Oxy to pieces but follows a higher moral code.

I also think that Ciceron's choice to buck was an interesting one. I know he turned to look at the egg, but even so, if Oxy has hit him in the shoulder then he would be closer to Ciceron's front end, very unlikely to be hit by the hind hooves. I have a hard time picturing things in my head, so I always make sure to read over the positioning areas two or three times to make sure I have it right in my head; I recommend that everyone else do this too, just to know where their opponent really is.

On the topics of readability and prose, I don't have much to say. I didn't see any glaring punctuation or grammar mistakes and the writing was clear and easy to follow. Let me know if this was helpful- I want to make sure I'm helping you in a way that is useful to you, so if you need me to give my comments in a different format let me know.
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

Ciceron Posts: 315
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 6 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kiara :: White Tiger :: Poison nickel
#6

Momentary blindness had caused him to react without thinking his actions through to completion. Cursing under his breath at himself for being so stupid and forgetting what his mentor had taught him all those years ago. A warrior was not someone who acted on blind emotions, each step taken needed to be carefully calculated in order to have the intended effect. What had happened to him over the course of the last year? Before coming here he would not have been apt to forget a life lesson so vital for survival. The deep ache within his shoulder was a decent reminder to keep his head on straight unless he wanted to end up crippled and on the ground unable to move. Setting his shoulders he pushed through the sharp pain letting it fade from his mind as adrenaline slowly coursed through his veins giving him the extra boost of energy.

His back hooves had barely skimmed their intended target and only served to deepen the strain within his shoulder. A quick glance around left no sign of the boggart so he turned his sights to the bay brute trying to gauge his next move so it would have the greatest effect. What was he thinking? What was he capable of? Many questions assaulted his mind at once as he pivoted around to turn his silver gaze to the rather inebriated looking stag. Pain flashed brightly as something connected with a clash with his side sending him staggering sideways to regain his balance. Damn that moron, despite looking like he was about to fall over somehow he still had enough brainpower to conjure how next he would proceed with the fight he had started. The only thing that could develop that much force and cause the silver flash he had caught out of the corner of his eye was hooves equipped with some object. His own reaction turned against him, couldn’t the brute think of his own tricks instead of copying him.

Inhaling sharply as the pain seared through his side he felt renewed pain radiating from his right shoulder as well. Neither blow felt like a bone crushing force but it was enough to start the beginning of the deep tissue swelling. More than likely a nasty black and blue bruise would develop within the next couple hours if it hadn't already begun. Another breath in confirmed that nothing was broken only quite tender causing his stride to falter slightly. Chancing a glance at his side as he spun sideways it was a relief to see that the light armor had taken much of the blunt impact yet still remained intact. Shoulder burning and protesting the tightness of the turn the only thing to do is push the pain away accepting the adrenaline to give him strength.

As he managed to open his mind to recall his past training insight rushes in as the scene plays out before his eyes in slow motion. The restricted turn and movements of the bay suggest that something is not quite right in the front quarters, other than the head that is. The impact of the prior collision must have had recoil effect, this is what he needed to focus on. Leaping forward to narrowly miss the incisors making contact on his flesh the stallion drops his head as his weight is allowed to fall forwards as his weight is directed at making his own collision with the stallion’s injured shoulder. Thrusting his head forward and in a upwards momentum he can only wish that his horn would slice deep into the stag’s fleshy abdomen at the exact time any contact is made, if any. If you really want to play, let’s play he thought boldly putting everything into his attack. Maybe with the other being as tipsy as it was the possible blow may just decommission any retaliation attempts. Using the image the boggart had conjured as fuel to the fire he gritted his teeth pulling every ounce of concentration he had to full use. If the bay was unfamiliar with the feeling of loss maybe things could be pounded into him instead. It had been so long since the thrill of battle had coursed through his veins but it felt amazing as it made its comeback. There was no more lack of attention, he was ready to play with all cards on the table, what would come next?


••WORDS: 736 •• TAGS: Oxy •• NOTES: THis is fun XD ••



Table by Moonstone Designs
[Image: ciceron_by_foxyfirewings-d7npcjn.png][Image: untitled_2_by_moonstone_designs-d9fwqyy.png]
Pixel Base- BronzeHalo
**Please Tag Me In All Posts**
Permission to attack, use magic and injure with the exception of maiming or 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
#7
Metal shoes on flesh is a feeling you know well, a feeling you have come to appreciate after having gotten used to them on your hooves. At first they were an annoyance, a terrible mistake that the Gods had granted them to you, but even mistakes have their uses. Every strike you make is more deadly, every hit causes more damage. It is a warrior's dream. What you were not expecting was the feeling of metal shoes on... something that was not flesh. Armor? You hadn't even noticed he was wearing any, having been so occupied with other matters. Dumb, you chide yourself as you turn, wanting to shake your head for your idiocy but managing to restrain yourself. Your balance is precarious as is. A few surprise tosses of your heavy head might send you careening off course to the ground.

Perhaps it is your surprise, or perhaps you were just too slow, but your bites catch only air, all of your snapping for nothing. At least it was not a massive motion and you did not waste too much energy. But while you've been busy biting at imaginary flies, at dreams in the clouds, your opponent has taken notice. He lunges forward, throwing his head up, his body battering against the shoulder he has already injured. His right shoulder beats against yours, flesh grinding into flesh, your sweat mingling with his hair and hide into some disgusting, foamy concoction that would make the squeamish cringe and turn away.

The pain pulsates in wide bounds, bruised muscle protesting the assault, more blood vessels breaking under your skin, more blood filling space in the tissues and creating pressure where there should be none. A nerve that has been smashed reverberates a more insistent pain, a sharp twinge that seems ready to stick around for quite a while longer. What you don't notice, since you're so focused on the pain, is the swing of his horn through the air at the same time as he lunged, his sword ready to slice your ribs wide open. It must be some luck of the gods, or some serendipitous stumble of your hooves, but it barely brushes past your fur, leaving the hairs a mess but your flesh intact. Why the gods have seen to bless you in this moment, you cannot say, but it is welcomed nevertheless.

But if his attack has come, your shoulder screaming in frustration, then you know it must be your turn to return the favor. Hoping his contact with you has slowed him enough to make the motion worthwhile, you throw yourself into a rear. It takes a good bit of concentration and a fair bit of strength, but somehow you manage. You aren't much taller than him, which you've sort of managed to ignore until this moment, but perhaps you should have taken notice earlier. You had intended to beat your hooves around his spine, to press on the bones that lay so close to the surface there, but it seems it would be a special sort of trick to get your hooves that far over the gray soldier.

Trying your best to avoid his armor, you choose to try and strike your blows upon his right hip instead, perhaps bruising the muscle enough to slow him down before his last attack. You'd like to do more but what goes up must come down, and your body is no exception to the rule. As you fall back to the earth you try to avoid smashing into Ciceron. Normally you wouldn't mind a little extra damage to your opponent but you'll need all the balance you can manage in order to stick the landing and besides, your shoulder- YOUR SHOULDER!

As you land back on the ground, your shoulders scream foul words of hatred into your ears, swearing in a way that would make even a soldier blush in embarrassment. It's no pleasant sensation, that is for sure, but it is the warrior's burden to carry pain. You bite your teeth an squint your eyes, trying to fight past it, keeping one ear on the gray stag and hoping his last attack is aimed somewhere else. You're not sure your shoulders can take another round of damage. And it would be best not to kill yourself over something so stupid as a spar. At least when this is all over you'll be able to sink into the ground and drown yourself in the pleasant haze of a locoweed induced high. As you always say... Life Sucks? Eat more locoweed.


Post| 3/3
WC| 761


Comments| The first thing I noticed is that your second sentence is a fragment. It's not necessarily a huge deal, as sometimes fragments can be a stylistic choice, but the way in which it was formatted made me go back and reread because I thought I had missed something. You want to avoid those moments as much as possible, as it factors into the readability score. Another thing I noticed a couple times in your post is that you mentioned adrenaline giving him an extra boost of energy. Personally I try to avoid the word 'adrenaline' as much as possible as it tends to have a somewhat negative connotation associated with it. I may have chosen something like 'the pain invigorated his senses' or 'a cool breeze gave him a chill that snapped him to life.' Adrenaline can become akin to god-moding or power-play if you use it too much, as it can't be expected to solve all of a horse's problems.

I like that you mentioned his buck further straining his shoulder. This gives some realism to the injury and helps make the damage believable. In paragraph two I found a few minor grammatical errors. I might have placed a comma or semicolon in a few of the sentences and the paragraph probably should have ended with a question mark. Still, the errors weren't overly distracting and I found myself a little more welcomed into Ciceron's mind. I enjoyed Ciceron's thoughts about Oxy's inebriation. I actually laughed a couple times, which is great. Fights tend to be fairly serious, so I find that well-placed humor can really serve to lighten the mood.

Again, I think you did much better this time describing the damage taken by Ciceron. Now I know exactly how much damage was done, to what extent and where. I also know how it's going to be affecting him in the future of the fight as the muscles start to bruise. This is exactly the information that the judges are looking for in deciding whether or not you were able to translate damage from dice roll to post. That said, ???? Translation.

Into your fourth paragraph you switch back and forth from past tense to present tense throughout, which is sort of confusing. Up until this point everything has been past tense and I would generally encourage you to remain in one tense unless you're referring to something that might happen in the future. Again in this paragraph I'm noticing a lot of run on sentences and moments where I have to go back and read several times. Overall, the general impression I'm getting with this post is that you were rushed for time or weren't really invested in writing. Remember that you have three weeks to post in a spar. If you don't feel like writing one day, leave it for another day when you know you'll be able to dedicate your full attention to the writing.

I love how you use the boggart's imagery to drive Ciceron to attack at the end, showing us how mad he is and how the feeling of pain was affecting him. It has also become more clear that Ciceron is more calculating rather than feeling, which is a good thing to get across as it can explain why there aren't many overt emotions in your writing. I did note that the realism of the attack was much better this time around, so good job considering the body position of the two horses before the attack.

Overall, I noticed that the technical aspects of this post were greatly increased while the quality of writing was somewhat decreased and I compliment you on your ability to incorporate my suggestions into your writing.
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

Ciceron Posts: 315
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 6 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kiara :: White Tiger :: Poison nickel
#8

A mixture of pleasure and pain hit the stallion the moment his fleshy mass makes contact with the brown idiot in his way. His is secretly thrilled that his intended target had been hit but also disappointed that his horn had not been the object to do the damage instead. You can't win them all he thought silently through the spasming muscles of his own body’s protests against the impact. Clamping his teeth together to avoid anything unintelligible from leaving his mouth he catches his weight before it sends him sprawled out on the grass underneath the bay. After getting this far into their spar he was not about to give him any easy points where he could sneak in a couple free blows while he gathered himself from the heap on the ground, he would have to be mad to let that happen willingly.

Sucking in a breath as weight returns underneath his front hooves he can feel each sinew give slightly before his nerves demand them to contract to hold his mass once more. The feeling is anything but reassuring to the stallion as there will be without a doubt swelling to take place in the very near future along with the joyous pain to go along with it.

Why exactly did he have to choose to approach this stallion again? Maybe it was out of pity, or even some brilliant idea that a staggering moron such as himself would make an easy target to hone his skills? Whatever the reason was it was likely fueled by male hormones somewhere along the way, why did such situations always end with two males trying to prove they were superior to the other? It was one part of the male brain that he would not completely understand but hey it felt good at the time.

Darkened shadows loomed up beside him signalling that he may want to pay attention again to the brute nearby before he would again regret his lack of focus on the subject. This time the impact was not centered over his withers but rather the thick muscular portion of his hindquarters, which of course lacked much protection at this time. Metal connected into his flesh sending a sharp stinging sensation along his spine and down his hind leg, dammit why couldn't the moron just fall over like he was supposed to for once!

Images flooded into the stallion's mind like a torrent portraying a scene much similar to the one unfolding around him but instead of a bay brute standing over him, it was the horrific image of his father from many years ago. From deep within his body he felt something tear open releasing years of pent up anger and rage sending it swirling up around him like a dragon. Emotions that had once been hidden beneath layers of lies finally freed from its prison to wreak its revenge.

No longer did he see the bay stallion rearing up over him, no it was him! A low feral growl sounded from deep within his chest as the memories took hold, he would not let him get away with this again not this time. The pain once hindering his movement seemed all but forgotten as the anger overtook his senses giving him a false sense of reality. On the outside his body was still painful and complaining with each flexion of a extremity, each extension of a muscle group, every movement he made but his mind was numb to the pain focused to intently on bringing justice. Thrusting his body upwards with a roll of his hips he hoped to knock the already unbalanced figure away from himself before striking out in his attempt to end this once and for all. Desperately twisting himself around as much as his large frame would let him, he lowered his head aiming his deadly dagger towards the brute’s heart as he lunged forward one last time.

Things seemed to move in slow motion as some sense broke through the blinding anger, what was he doing? This was the blundering idiot from before not his father! A last second turn of his head drew his horn away from the area where the last target would have been housed, only problem was now his trajectory point was unknown. He knew not if there would be more damage, or even if his mass would connect with the stud. It would be left for fate to decide the next course, all he could hope was he managed to do some kind of damage that would not kill the poor sucker.



Ciceron talks
Ciceron thinks
Kiara speaks

••WORDS: 766 •• TAGS: Oxy •• NOTES: 3/3 posts ••



Table by Moonstone Designs
[Image: ciceron_by_foxyfirewings-d7npcjn.png][Image: untitled_2_by_moonstone_designs-d9fwqyy.png]
Pixel Base- BronzeHalo
**Please Tag Me In All Posts**
Permission to attack, use magic and injure with the exception of maiming or 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
#9
Hooves meeting flesh are your drug for a moment, one very fulfilling moment, but as your hooves fall back to the earth and your shoulder is tweaked, you are not given any peace. The beast's rump crashes into you and it's all you can do to keep your hooves underneath you. Your body tumbles to the side ungracefully, your feet clamoring to find purchase on the snowy ground. Finally, your opponent has been able to use your weakness against you and you're all but powerful to stop it.

Your eyes roll wildly as you tumble to the side, your head bobbing flailing with all the drama you can muster. It doesn't help you stay balanced, by any means, but you can't really help your dramatic outbursts when you're so high. But you're going to need to, because apparently this spar has turned from friendly to deadly. The glint of a horn in the ever-lowering sun catches your eye and you gasp your breath in because you fear that your drug habit may finally have gotten the best of you.

It almost seems like slow motion as you fall, the horn trained so expertly on your chest that you can't help but know that it is about to pierce your heart. The feeling of helplessness is so profound that you bellow out, a cry to the heavens to save you. For the first time in your life, you pray. You pray that you will gain your footing, you pray that you will be able to back away from his horn. And when your prayers don't seem to work you turn to begging, your imagined reverence of the gods turning to hatred as you realize they're ignoring you're please. You'll be nicer, you'll stop doing drugs, you'll make amends for all the wrongs you have committed. But it doesn't matter how many lies you tell, the gods will not listen and you keep falling.

In the end, it is only the mercy of your opponent that saves you. The horn tilts upward just as it should have punctured your chest wall. It rips through flesh and muscle, tearing down to the very ribs that protect your body. A gash several inches long is opened up, the white of bone visible for an instant before blood begins to spill over. It is only a matter of millimeters that have kept your lungs from becoming punctured as well. In the end, all that has happened is retribution. Your too-skinny body has been assaulted, giving you some punishment for all the evils you have committed, but at least you are alive.

In that moment, that cathartic moment, you find your footing and stop your falling. You are ashamed of yourself for turning to religion in face of your impending death and it has killed your lust for battle. Besides, you have a wound that is begging to be infected if it isn't cleaned and flushed. With throbbing shoulders and barrel, and eyes that are almost watery with fear, you cannot afford to continue. “Enough,” you grunt to the beast who would have taken your life. You should call him friend for stopping himself, respect him for pulling back when he could have pushed forward, but you do not. You hate him because he could have killed you and, in an effort to justify your rage, you tell yourself that he is weak because he chose not to take a life when he had it within his grasp.

No, he is not one you will ever call friend, but at least you live this day to walk away.

WC|603
Post| Closing Defense


First and foremost, my apologies about the question marks in my previous post. That was supposed to be a note to myself to go back and fill in, which I subsequently ignored like a champion. Anyways, on to the part where I don't fail-

Again in this post, I think you're doing quite good with emotion. Right from the get go I'm feeling Ciceron's involvement in the fight and I'm starting to see his strategy and his determination. I don't have much to add about this because you made me laugh and smile while also giving me a moment of seriousness, which is awesome!

I noticed one spelling error- signaling rather than signalling, but not a huge deal. Still, I always like to run my posts through a spell check.

Oxy doesn't have shoes on his front hooves- that's just something to double check in the character profile, character records, or with me if you ever have a question. Still, if he did have hooves, I think your combination of self-induced pain early in the post and this hit with the hooves is a good interpretation of the damage that he was dealt. You've done a really good job with that all throughout the spar.

Oh, coming back to the emotion section- you've got a really powerful section about Ciceron's history giving him motivation and rage and -that- is perfect. These moments are great in moderation, powerful kickers to add onto what you've already built, and I think you worked this in nicely. Very well done! And I love how it moved into one last very powerful attack, which I think was very reasonable given the position of the two.

Overall, this was a really great spar and think you grew with every post. I see some very good battles in your future!
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

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#10
By my verdict: OXY is the winner!

OXY
Realism [+5]
I really like how you describe the locoweed affecting Oxy after his detox in the caves and I like that the affects are carried through in every post. With the way you described it I had a clear vision in my head of his continued struggle with balance. That coupled with the injuries he sustained to his shoulders (yay for an old injury flaring up!) left me wanting to read more and more. I also thought it was clever that Oxy would try to attack a portion of Ciceron's body where he was not protected with armor.

Emotion [+1.5]
The first thing that really stood out to me was how annoyed Oxy was with his boggart and his disappointment that she turned into an egg. I really got a feel in this fight for how he dislikes his companion and the brief time that she was involved I could feel her desire to him to like her. I really don't see this kind of relationship between companion and bonded and I have to say that I really like it. The middle portion of the battle I don't recall getting much emotion from Oxy. His fear, however, I felt was more palpable than his annoyance at the beginning of the battle and I loved it.

Prose [+3]
The style of writing you use for Oxy makes for an easy read, in my opinion. There were a few spots here and there where you used the wrong words.

"bite your teeth an squint your eyes" - should be 'bite your teeth and squint your eyes'

"ignoring you're please." - should be 'ignoring your pleas'

Overall, however, your posts were well written and consistent.

Readability [+3]
Your posts were easy to follow and didn't leave me wondering what had happened.


Finally tally: 50.5 HP

*******************************************

CICERON
Realism [+3]
I didn't understand your first attack in this spar. It left me wondering how a buck would work if Oxy attacked Ciceron's shoulder. I could not clearly picture this attack in my head. I did like that the injury Ciceron took to his shoulder affected his stride and some of his choices later on in the battle. Keep in mind, though, that checking your opponents profiles can help in battle because Oxy only has shoes on his hind hooves. You took more damage than necessary in one attack because you though Oxy had shoes on his front hooves.

Emotion [+1]
I like that Ciceron was angry at being tricked into thinking his egg had cracked, but after saying he was angry it kind of fell flat. I was left feeling that Ciceron was more distracted than angry. You also use the word 'detest', which I would have liked to see you go into more detail about why he detests Oxy as much as he does. I could feel when Ciceron finally got his head together and was ready to fight. I could feel his determination and in your final post I could feel his anger and the frenzy his emotions put him in. The sudden snap back to reality was played nicely and I liked that he diverted his horn because he didn't want to kill Oxy.

Prose [+3]
There were a few issues here. You had some run on sentences that tended to make your posts a little more difficult to read. There was a sentence that was a fragment that I had to go back and read because I thought I had missed something.

"Cursing under his breath at himself for being so stupid and forgetting what his mentor had taught him all those years ago." -fragment

focused to intently on bringing justice. - should be 'focused too intently'

The restricted turn and movements of the bay suggest that something is not quite right in the front quarters, other than the head that is. - hah! I cannot say how much I loved this sentence. Thank you for making me giggle while I was reading this spar.

Readability [+1.5]
I like the way you write Ciceron. The only problem I had was the run on sentences in some of your posts. Some of them are difficult to follow and I had to go back and re-read them several times to make sure I understood what was going on in your post. Definitely watch out for those run on sentences.

"After getting this far into their spar he was not about to give him any easy points where he could sneak in a couple free blows while he gathered himself from the heap on the ground, he would have to be mad to let that happen willingly." - This sentence was really difficult for me to understand and I had to read it a couple of times.


Finally tally: 46.5 HP







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