the Rift


[JUDGED] i— don't want your crown [Challenge - Seele]

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#1
CIRCUTA

these words are knives and often leave scars
the fear of falling apart,
truth be told i never was yours
Loorien was swathed in ash, humid, alabaster oaks with strikingly roseate buds dull in the oncoming odor of rain— for with the springtide comes a flurry of showers, scorching sinew laced with sweat and sticky as raw honey, yet tinged with the taste of salt upon the pallet; the chorus of wind trailing fingertips through onyx tresses of mane, wrapping around a damp neck, the softest of drizzles lining rivulets down her scarred apparel, donned with violet eyes, carrying a cyclone of extermination within their midsts, doom, peril, resolute, yet in turmoil, for the deed in which she is about to commit is treason of the highest regard, and yet the mysterious witch of a woman cannot deny the thirst, the hunger, cannot turn away the calescent longings of a Empress bathed in cruor, the passion that transfers to her own veins, the aspirations that dig as talons into limp flesh, ensnaring her heart within a cage of barbarous thorn.

She is the Nightingale, second only to the Jester, sleuth of the secluded realm of Falls, damned, laiden with a curse, venomous Cicuta as her namesake suggests— water hemlock, and she is to slay a Queen and lay ruin to a throne, inflict anarchy, demise, eradication of the highest regard.

Divines, she prays, the imploring tone of a mortal bound with the intent of annihilation upon her tongue, pleading, forsaken. Aid me.
And then she seeks, she cries, beckons as a cawing crow for a lamb to the slaughter, for a Jester; to enwrap lacerations and bruises, to throttle, to choke, to steal oxygen from rightful lungs and swing her perilous scythe, her sister in arms, a Czarina, a Queen, torn, uncertain, a twisted stomach and a icy sludge within her throat, crepuscule, blending among the penumbra of the downcast morn, the crimson hues of a sunrise painting the coppice maroon, amber, gilt and gilded, and the malleable clay beneath her hooves shifts to the sanguine fluids of her dam, her Mother— squelching, scalding beneath her dainty hooves, a mixture of dread and despair, anxieties that meld and fuse hallucinations of the Labyrinth within her skull together as threads, a echoing, resounding voice within her own mind, collected, demanding, certain and cold.
She is not your mother.

No.
She is not.
(But would she not have fought along her side, but a few mere months before? Had she not sworn fealty to two Goddesses, and not to one? Has she not a burden to the King, to the Czar, to a soft-spoken lad with a phoenix upon his withers? If the tales, the ruins, the sweetened falsehood of good cannot remove the curse placed on her dome, then does the folly of moral acts control her actions, her inquiries, her devilish cravings, her mind? Does it deem which to slay, and which to let live? What defines a metal, electronic monster from a breathing, living being? Does she not take in air, consume, rest, worry and fret as all?)

The Nightingale does not understand, does not have answers to the bumbling chord of tangled rope, to her conscious, for she must have none to seek Thanatos, to seek Death in all his glory, sing lullabies and acrid psalms, there is no time for ardor, for patriotism, and with the terracotta hue of mud beginning to stain her cannons she listlessly reduces her trot among the dryads, her cries, hushes her soul within a cage of ice, of Siberian temperature, splashing into a winding corridor of a creek. The rosy budded nymphs seem to have a trillion eyes, gazing at her with sneers, with prying inquiries, a whispering choir of accusations, of damnation, of knowledge— she is the one, the witch, the infernal, and the thorns dig another inch into the agonized, fright filled bird that frantically beats wings inside her bosom.
It is a clearing, a opening amidst the brush, and with trembling lips and quivering nostrils she rises her dome to the skies, the superheated, electrical scent of lightning as a flash lightens the grounds below, turning the indigo of her gaze pallid, alabaster, cerulean in the wake of its luminescence, surrounded by nothing but earth and grass, dryads and rain, nothing but the chill of her loathsome, fractured heart.

She has promised she will slay a Jester, and that is what she shall do.
(But Lord forgive her, for she knows not what she does).

Nothing, not time, not the fathomable canvas of stars— not the gods, not the realm of Loorien nor pety mortal souls shall last forever, not even that whom can speak to the dead, a Necromancer in a clown's donned armour.
And that is what the same Necromancer shall learn on this eve.

Nothing.

Table edited per admin's asking!

790 words 4526 characters / 0/4, closing defense to the first to attack as stated in the challenging rules.

SETTING: A humid, sticky, gently raining dawn, with the Sun rising behind the veil of clouds casting a vermilion hue upon the landscape. It may thunder and lightning occasionally, although most lightning will remain off in the far distance, even if it seems close, and shall not give off a booming clap that indicates the storm is rapidly approaching, and is, in fact, far away. The raining may grow heavier as time passes, due to the approaching torrent. The Threshold, nearest to the Hidden Falls, surrounded by white oak in pink bloom for the season, the soft, clay ground becoming muddied and slippery as time meanders on. The fight is taking place in a clearing, with a narrow creek winding through to the other side, although it may progress into the coppice depending on the turn of events. Circuta awaits in the center. You may have the first attack, if you wish, abba, or await until Circuta proclaims her purpose, as she has only called for Seele to meet her so far.
Magic, and companions, are allowed.
Liquid time, set sometime after Eris asks her to challenge / she offers in her stead in order to protect her. I am told the thread will be up in a few hours, tops.

This is a challenge for Seele's leadership of the Hidden Falls.


Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Seele the Necromancer Posts: 210
Deceased atk: 5.5 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.2 hh :: five (ages orangemoon) Buff: NOVICE
Abba
#2
I will say that I had been feeling a bit more confident, a bit more natural, since I had come back from this battle with Confutatis. While my limbs had been battered and torn, my subconscious had found its own coping mechanisms. My feral side had been lurking - rearing its ugly head when it felt it was a necessity. That figment of my own id, well, I’d allowed it to take control over my own ego during that battle. The pain and agony of my flesh rotting and sagging off of my bones had been too much. And my id led to emotional numbing, while the pain was stabbing the physical aspects of my form – so much so that I was almost begging for a release.

But I do not beg. I was not raised that way.

The voices – that are really just my own mind’s delusions (even though I do not realize that they are not real) – are proof that I have only been gaining strength. Less chastising from Schwere, more insults from Unheil, more worry and distaste from Innerste, and the quiet power behind Liebling meant they were all standing ready for the task of finally getting the herd started on goals in whatever manner they felt was appropriate.

Quick, quiet feet of mine took on a new purpose as I felt the way the water was beginning to delicately cascade down my back in ripples of water. There was a sweet hum of a melody, I had thought long forgotten, in my crown as I caught sight of the rising sun. Swatches of colours radiated out across the ground in dull hues – a perfect gradient being ruined by the clouds that carried the upcoming spring shower. I was going to have to make sure that all the young ones were in a safe area. After all, the care of young ones was at my hooves. I was the leader of the healers and the sleuths – care and information were my areas.

So, my scan starts at the edges of the lands. Swift hooves feeling the way the clay seemed to slide and as my weight pushed and dragged the substance. It was, in fact, the feeling of electricity in the distance that had me begin to slink back toward the Falls to take a look at those who were in our borders. But, a sharp call pulls my attention back towards the border of the Falls, parallel to the Threshold. It’s my yellow orbs that lock on the dark form of Circuta, and I release a gentle snort from my maw as I shake my head in dismay. I do hope this is of the upmost importance, Innerste almost hisses, not pleased with my hide continuing to be dirtied by traversing upon the muddied ground. Many of the voices slowly begin to erupt with their own comments, too fast for me to take in.

However, Liebling calmed the voices as I pull up before Circuta and stand at about ten yards distance. The winding, thin river is three yards to my left and I can see that it is slowly beginning to pick up speed with the additional water. ”Circuta! Come. We should go make sure the foals get somewhere safe with the upcoming storm!” I call out to her as I flick my tail, not coming in any closer. After all, the farther out from the herd I go the farther the distance back is. And, in all honesty, I can only assume it is going to take all of my energy to get those little scoundrels rounded up and somewhere that allows for a lower risk of being struck by lightning. Though, I will say that I pause for a second as I realize the direction I am facing and place the location she could be heading towards. I blink the drizzling water from my eyes and speak up again – this time on the topic of the threshold, “Or, are you going to recruit? If so, be safe.”

It is with those words that I allow silence to fall. I have nothing else to add at this moment. No, there is only the thought that I should be turning hide and getting back into the heart of our new land. I had to ensure the safety of those too young to know what could come of a spring storm. And, with Innerste anxious to do just that, I am shuffling my hooves while I stay in the same foci.

I love the sprinkling rain. If only it wasn’t just a calm moment before the storm… Liebling muses in my skull, and it is those words that have a smirk upon my maw. How true was that statement? I didn’t know – not yet at least.

Normal
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"Speech"

[799/800] [0/4]
Seele
you better run to survive, before she makes you her latest slaughter
Credits
●☽ ☾●
Glory and Gore go Hand in Hand
That's Why We're Making Headlines
●☽ ☾●

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#3
CIRCUTA

these words are knives and often leave scars
the fear of falling apart,
truth be told i never was yours
As an harlequin, a Jester, she comes before the witch, a intriguing duo, a rabbit to slide beneath the gaping jaws of a wolf, a canine, starved, craving, ripe for the butchery, heinous carnage, and her heart sinks with the knowledge, the damnation, the cruor that will stain her flesh as such ornaments, trophies to dangle from scythe and sword, strewn across slippery filth, mixing with the purities, the water, and when tomorrow rises, when the dawn comes and the Sun turns his face upon Loorien, he shall find all evidence of the deed on this day washed away with the rain, the torrent, the gentle, passionate thrum of the skies. The brilliance of the Necromancer's feline saffron spheres gleams as honey in the hallowed hour of the morn (how enthralling that the shade is known for being the hue of craven cur's and white livered fools), no glimmer, no tremble of apprehension in their depths, and the Machiavellian childe finds bile rising within her throat, stinging, venom, nausea and a twist of her stomach as she comes to a halt, filth staining her apparel, the rough, guttural spread of her voice causing her harks to dance forwards upon her dome, hushed, listening to her fretting, her demanding, her wish. A odd distance, perhaps, grinding her hooves into gear as she ends her speech— has she come to recruit babes, scoundrels, lambs with inquisitive minds and gentle eyes? "No," amiable, chiming, obliging, mixing with the storm, drawing forth the energies that lay dormant within her sinew, veins, inflicted in her cruor, in her mind, in her head. A illusion, entrapped within her fractured cranium, a pearl, ivory wrapping slow and soft around the woman's maw, filling, trapping rainwater as a bowl, time meandering, concentrations halved.

It ebbs, flows, builds up as pressure within her skull, aching, threatening, snarling and pacing as a thralled tiger within its cage, sweat of her efforts mixing with the rain, dripping as cruor upon the damp soil.

The latch clicks.
With a screech, the predator leapt forth, the pearl gleams, diamond, anarchy and eradication, seeking to flay, to choke, to rip the oxygen from the Necromancer's lungs, to taste that which sustains her, toying her life amidst onyx claws, bewitchment, wizardry, granted from the shadows, the umber, the crepuscule longings of her heart, and the lust for demise and dizziness that it leaves in its wake cause her to shiver, muscles contracting across a slim frame (for whilst the Jester is strength, thunder and lightning, thick, heavy clouds, she is wind, fleeting, darting, Akhal lineage clean within her parentage) and a giggle rising within the bile, the acid staining her throat, pitching into a delirious cackle, baneful violet flashing to meet baked Sun, teeth beaming, glinting in splendor. "I've come to retrieve your head."
They had not been the Asylum for their love of tea, darling.

For where melancholy had crept, nausea had risen, where her vehement spheres had blurred and salt water would drip into her maw is now repressed into hysterical, homicidal chortles, where there has once been rain she sees blood, vermilion, cardinal, coral, a metallic stench filling her nostrils, her lungs, copper laden as led upon her tongue, demoniac, cracked, needing another shot of adrenaline, of exhaustion, of dizzying fuel from the witchery, the sane song of her mind reeling into the farthest away corner, shuddering in fright, no longer in control of her own bodily functions, the waning, the yearning, the feast plastered in alabaster and onyx before her, glass hooves and spiraled horn, clown dome, it was rude to deny dinner. (the pallid sclera of her violet spheres sheens).
She dips her dome, scythe tilted towards the more minuscule Lady, setting a trot across the slick earth, feeling the clay slide, not daring to move faster, yet as she had walked towards her former Queen the distance had fallen, and now she approaches with rapid foreshadowing, aiming for the jugular groove, dancing towards the Necromancer's left, yanking her neck upwards to endeavor and aim a snap of jaws on the lobe of her ear, the drums of war becoming the distant cries of thunder.

She sings a merry tune as she works, the rich, wicked, corrupt purr of her voice attempting to reach harks, taunting, mocking, weaving. "I'm going to kill you," the crepuscule horizon darkens, bubbling clouds and lightning. "You're going to slip. And then I'll carve open your stomach like a meal, a lamb fit for the slaughter, for the King's to eat— but I am no King. You'll be alive when I do it, Necromancer. To watch your guts spill out among the dryads, for the wolves." Softening, gentle. "Too bad you won't be alive to see how beautiful it is, Death."

Table edited per admin's asking!

796 words 4711 characters :: 1/4, 0/1 (closing defense).

REACTION: She waits to listen to what Seele has to say. When she is done, she gradually begins to walk towards her, stating no to the question of recruiting. However, she does take this slow pace to her advantage, attempting to use her choking magic on Seele, which is of course, up to you what happens abba! Dropping into a trot, uncertain at the slippery footing, and refuses to move any faster, dipping her head low and aiming towards Seele's jugular groove, veering towards the Necromancer's left. Attempts to pass by her, aiming a snap towards her left ear as she does so. Taunts her near the end.

Good luck! <3


Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Seele the Necromancer Posts: 210
Deceased atk: 5.5 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.2 hh :: five (ages orangemoon) Buff: NOVICE
Abba
#4
Her frame is moving forward slowly as I await the answer from my sleuth. An amiable “no” slides through the air, and so I allow my bodice to begin a slow turn to my right. It was time to go help the foals and it seemed as though Circuta agreed with that idea, or at least my order.

It could have only been ten degrees of a turn, though, when my mind starts to race. A bubble has appeared, covering my maw and stealing the oxygen from my lungs. In an instant my ears are pinned against my cranium and blending in with my now-dripping mane. Yellow orbs shoot towards the dark mare, wide and confused. What the hell does she think she is doing?! I want to scream, but there is no oxygen to fill my lungs and I can already feel my heart pumping faster – mind beginning its path to blacking out. We are family. Family does not attack each other! My sweet, sweet Circuta what has possessed you?

My frame droops, legs spreading out and sliding across the wet ground, causing my frame to lower a few inches. Eyes are shut as I struggle for air, not realizing that the sloppy sound of hooves means she is coming at me with her horn prepared to strike. And then, as quickly as the oxygen had disappeared, I can feel it surging into my lungs again. My limbs gain the strength and I start to rise just in time to feel her horn impale my crest, mere inches from my poll. A loud cry escapes my ravaged lungs before I gasp for the air I had just relinquished again. And, with my body back to my full – though short – height, as well as her crown being jerked upward, she takes out a chunk of my long mane while leaving a deep gash in the muscle.

But, that is not all. Her maw reaches out for my left ear, now easily in her reach. I don’t pull away. No, instead I give her the ability to sink her teeth in. I can feel her teeth dig into the tip of my left ear and it takes all of me not to screech. My hair is sliding off of her scythe, across my nose, and down to the ground as I strike like a viper at her own jugular. I do not hesitate in the action – for if one is kicked they kick back in self-defense. The souls are ready, begging for action – to rip her soul from its vessel. But I just… I cannot subject her to that torture yet. Your family. She is your family, mein kleine. What is changing this? Innerste is crying and my own thoughts echo these. After all, why? Why, after all I had done for her?

Hooves slide along the ground, footing terrible to grab as I try and shuffle my way backwards. Eyes are wide, left ear bleeding while the tip just barely hangs on by a loose piece of flesh. Pain is radiating through my bodice, each muscle tightening and my heart pumping harder, faster, stronger in repulsion of what was happening. “Why?! Circuta. What deamon has stolen your mind?” I’m so lost. This shouldn’t be happening.

My lungs are crying in agony. I’m gasping for air. You have no family. You never did. You never will. Unheil laughs and that tiny part of me that still has the ability to feel – so deep in my subconscious – is beginning to break. I don’t want to hurt her, even if she is taunting me. I know what I could do. I had been trained for death. I had been trained to kill - without feeling, without a care. But those had been ones I hadn’t taken in. Those hadn’t been ones who had done wrong (at least to me). That had been before I’d tried to change so that I could help those who were treated so poorly. “This isn’t you! You want information, not blood!” At least that was the Circuta I knew…

We were one in the same. I could see that now. It didn’t matter that we weren’t from the same blood. No. Our minds worked in the same way. We were ready to kill, to maim, to savagely murder after gaining the information we so desired.

But she isn’t you. You are not her. You have us, Liebling reminds me.

Somehow, I believed that voice. But only because, I would never accept that they were figments of my imagination. If I was alone I didn’t know who I was. So I kept shifting my weight left and right, preparing to evade these attacks.

I will fight if I have to. But, please, don’t make me. She’s part of my family.

Normal
Voices
"Speech"

Translation -
Meine kleine = my baby

[800/800] || [1/4] || no closing defense
SEELE’S REACTION: Thinks Cir is coming towards her to go help with the foals when she says no to the recruitment. Starts to turn away to go back to the herdland, thinking Cir is following. She freezes mid-turn as the oxygen seems to get ripped from her lungs. Hooves slide and she starts to fall down. Cir’s horn cuts upper flesh of neck and takes out a chunk of hair, teeth cutting into the top tip of her left ear as she rises back into the attack and aims her teeth for a chunk of flesh near Cir’s jugular. Goes to pull soul and decides against it for the moment. She cries out in confusion as she stumbles back a few steps to give more space between them, not wanting to fight.
Seele
you better run to survive, before she makes you her latest slaughter
Credits
●☽ ☾●
Glory and Gore go Hand in Hand
That's Why We're Making Headlines
●☽ ☾●

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#5
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Bemusement, bewildered, mixing with the violence, the fervor, the assault upon all the Nightingale has ever known. Bewailing— the clamor of rich German vocals, flesh meeting the tip of her scythe, her perilous sword, sweeping upwards, tresses circling around the spiraled, rose dipped end, dripping, washed with the rain and turning the water that rivulets off it a scarlet, murky complexion in the accursed dawn, the bruised purple skies.
The taste of copper is now blossoming against her tongue, recoiling, sinew snapped into, sliding down the back of her throat and causing her to yank away, gnashing teeth and spluttering, coughing lungs, onwards to the left upon creamy peach hooves, anchors unto the muddied, slippery soil, another wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm her. For all the carnality of death, the yearning, the consuming touch of passion for war, the rage and wrath that had sunk into her veins as the summer Sun from the Empress of cruor, the last time she had seen such repulsion, such dread, such alarming shock was when her bedeviled crown had lashed into lace and silk, into the bosom of her dam, sealing her fate into damnation.
And it sickened her.


In her moment of biliousness, she recognizes the gleam of glass, the blaze of movement, but she is too late to return fire, for even as she begins a wheel for her croup to face the Jester's outstretching maw, ivories sink into the meaty sinew just beneath her jugular, and she screeches, cardinal and ebony splotching her vision, searing, scorching, snapping through nerves as she withdraws, and the kneejerk reaction of brandishing her hindquarters and flourishing hooves in a buck is instantaneous, without thought, needing, wanting, hoping for the thud of satisfaction, even as the ground squelches beneath her uncertain hold upon the world and when her full weight hits the ground again, she almost falters, feeling the foreboding idea of falling as she once had with the woman with a cougar as a daemon and acerbic rain as a weapon, savage eyes whirling as she twists once more to face her Queen, the accelerated, fleeting, palpitating beat of her heart sounding a billion alarms within her dome, trembling as a leaf in the wind, noticing the most minuscule of details upon her Queen's figure, the way the rain dribbles off her sodden coat, the wide, almost childish amber of her duo of spheres, and the back of her mind pleads for her to cease, its own remorse matching the repulsion she knows not swirls within the Jester's veins.

"Why? WHY?!" The shrill, brittle, wailing vocals slide fragile from her lungs, rising as smoke from the pyre. Crimson has begun to ooze down from her neck, raindrops scattered as constellations in her lashes. Mud has been strewn up to her forearms, icy, despite the humid morn. "YOU ABANDONED US!" With her sides heaving, vision shaking with the warmth that pools at the edges of her eyes she charges forth again, towards her right this time, crown far from sheathed— continually pointed as a edged sword towards the Jester, seeking to move past her, teeth aiming towards her withers. Fiery, irate, yet anguished, dejected, possessive, jealous. "You abandoned me! I.. I tried so hard to gather us a home! US! The FAMILY!" Her words are choked, thick and strangled, ending in a sob that convulses her entire frame. "And now we're collapsed, crumbled, thrown into the ash with the tides of a new family! You LOVE THEM MORE! More.. more then me.. Did you ever care about us, See-lee-e?" (Did you ever give me a second thought?) "Or is all you want power?"

609 words 3564 characters:
2/4 :: 0/1

REACTION: When she successfully bites into Seele's left ear, blood spurts into her mouth and down the back of her throat, causing her to remember her mother's death and think of Seele's response so far, ripping away in nausea and coughing, spluttering out the Necromancer's blood, caught up in the feeling of illness that washes over her. This causes a delayed reaction when she notices Seele striking out with her teeth towards her own jugular groove, and she begins to turn sluggishly with her croup facing her instead, but is too late to deflect the attack, having Seele's teeth sink into the meaty flesh just below their mark. Overwhelmed by the pain, having not battle for quite sometime, and when Seele withdraws to move back, the kneejerk reaction is her completing her turn, facing her hindquarters towards Seele and bucking, kicking out towards her on blind instinct. However, with the slippery footing, she feels herself begin to fall, she panics on a internal and outside view, especially when her hooves hit the Earth again and she feels herself almost lose her grip. Remembers back to when Histe knocked her over in battle, causing yet more emotion to rise up within her veins. By now, she has whirled about again, facing Seele, but not yet moving towards her. With tears beginning to well up in her eyes, she charges towards Seele's right this time, having dipped her head so that her horn points continually towards her, attempting to use it as a potential shield against frontward attacks. Seeks to move past Seele's front on her right side, so that she can aim a strike with her teeth towards Seele's withers.
THE FEAR OF FALLING APART
(TRUTH BE TOLD, I NEVER WAS YOURS)

Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Seele the Necromancer Posts: 210
Deceased atk: 5.5 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.2 hh :: five (ages orangemoon) Buff: NOVICE
Abba
#6
I’m stumbling backwards, the taste of blood fresh in my maw. The mud is clinging to my dark pelt and hiding some of my blood markings as the water drags the blood down, mixing with it and dripping off in a diluted path. I’d hit my mark, but it didn’t feel good. After all, I had never been one to love the idea of blood and gore. I’d just loved the idea of causing suffering until the soul breaks.

However, as I catch sight of her haunches lifting as if she were going to kick out, I am backpedaling faster - sloppier, but definitely faster. I can feel the air brushing across my face as her flints strike out, but there is no impact crashing into my skull. Still, I shove myself backwards. Some pushes are useless, and it is only when I am a good distance (at least in my mind) away that I dare to begin to push my momentum forward in order to stand stable in the slick mud. Circuta is stumbling, almost falling over, and I can feel my breath catch in my throat. Perhaps if I had stayed close enough I would have been able to knock her to the ground. Maybe that last bit of weight added to her frame would have knocked her over and she would be stopping then and there. Would have been willing to, though? That, well, I can’t actually answer that.

No. Life was never meant to be easy. It is obvious through the stinging of my left ear. Rain is continuing to pound into it, agitating it as blood continues to mix slightly with the pools of water sliding out.

It is Circuta’s voice that has Innerste radiating a sadness through my frame. Circuta is torn, broken, crying, claiming that I had abandoned them. “No. I left for a cure! A cure that was obviously closer than I had expected, but that was my intent. Spürhund. You saw how I returned! I did not go on a vacation! I allowed my voice to call out just as Circuta began to charge toward me, her tall frame sliding over the mud at full force. And, it must be from the graces of the Gods above that my already shuffling frame has enough traction to push me out of her way, moving to my left, kicking out at her moving form and avoiding teeth.

Hah. Family. I told you. You have none. Unheil is still laughing. I do not accept it. Instead, my mind focuses on a different realization. That realization: that no matter how many times I dance away from her attacks, she will continue to attack until I stop her from being able to.

Family or not, I cannot help unless she would allow me to. And, for the moment, I must concentrate on my inability to feel. I must completely dissociate from the task at hand. I must find a way to stop this stupidity that is going on before me.

The voice my others had been attempting to repress since Confutatis’ battle was pounding to the surface. Calls to actually fight were cycling through my cranium, but they were not taking over. I could feel the horror. I could feel the way the darkness had been spreading through me lately. I didn’t care. Let there be a sickness that plagues my mind. I suppose it is what I deserve – the gift from my time spent in the darkness – but I will not let it control me (even if that feral voice is only my own mind having shattered completely). “Gods, forgive me.” I whisper under my breath as I allow the souls to attach to Circuta’s own, and with a release of my breath they yank at it, attempting to pull it free from the vessel’s chains.

It is while the souls cling to Cir’s that I am attempting to move forward, legs moving but body not changing location. But, it only takes a few moments before I am plummeting forward. My horn is aimed level with her left shoulder. If I can make it difficult to bear weight upon her limbs then she just might stop this. I attempt to run parallel with her, my left side facing hers and horn feinted in. Hopefully it will leave a large scar; hopefully it will scrape her muscle. Hopefully I won’t have to continue with this for eternity. And, for one last measure, I shove my side up against where her bodice should be – hoping that it might cause her to lose her footing – to make her limbs splay outwards in an attempt to stay balanced and hinder her more.

Red dawns are warnings of storms… Liebling whispers, and slowly it all clicks. This is the storm.


Normal
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"Speech"

Translations --
Spurhund = sleuth

[800/800] [2/4]

SEELE’S REACTION: Seele feels the air against her face from hooves kicking out, and continues to move backwards. As she stumbles backwards she watches the panicking mare fight for her footing. Sadness washes over her through Innerste. Unheil continues to remind her that she has no family as Circuta begins to charge at Seele again, and because she is already moving Seele only takes a few strides to barely get out of the way, her hooves kicking out to hit the mare’s form. Realization that Circuta isn’t going to stop unless Seele makes her stop, and feral side slowly begins to pull to the surface. Pleads to the Gods to forgive her and uses her soul-pulling magic (which has been upgraded and has shock now - listed below). Seele charges, running parallel (left side to left side) trying to tear Circuta’s shoulder muscles to make it difficult to stand. (hopefully getting the fight to end sooner rather than later in her mind rather than playing a game of cat and mouse).

:: [Magic: DarkxTime (U) | The ability to temporarily pull the soul from the body, leaving the victim numb and confused and when the soul is pulled, the body is shocked causing pain and disorientation]
:: [Restrictions | Effects will only last for one attack or defense in battle but the victim will continue to feel sluggish for the entire post; causes no physical damage but lingering pain for the entire post]
Seele
you better run to survive, before she makes you her latest slaughter
Credits
●☽ ☾●
Glory and Gore go Hand in Hand
That's Why We're Making Headlines
●☽ ☾●

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#7
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Mishap and blunder aspired as one— ominous omens, bunched, melded and fused in the form of ill-fated moves, dainty, filth blanketed hooves having swooshed past their dedicated victim by mere milliseconds, impaling naught but the wind, the laden humid air, albeit she had not had much time to notice, to formulate memories and faults, for she had been turned blind to the Queen, only recognizing her failures in the form of a dim sign flashing warnings within her cranium, the slow, slithering voice of a incubus; you missed, the harsh baritone of the Jester's voice as thunder within her harks, even as she had spluttered, sobbed and heaved, teeth clattering haplessly, shut with a click.

Yet that is then, and this is now, as her hooves slide berserk and hysterically within the damp soil, a clap of thunder rolling thick across the hills, she sees the dual anchors reaching towards her, seeking laceration, bruises, crushed bone and aching sinew, and she is too late to do anything but dig herself firm into the malleable grounds and squeal in a mix of resentment and anguish as the blows smack against her side, resonating through her spindly, doe like frame with shocking force, leaving prints upon her apparel, the dirty water curving down her belly and dripping down below as the storm continues to drench the world around them. The white's of her eyes gleam once more as she turns to face the Jester, well aware that the marks will leave purplish bruises, reminiscent of the skies. Lightning reflects the fright in her irises— with all the satire, the seductions, the decay, she is a mere childe cast from her mother's milk, young and frail within the boundaries of an adult's donned armour, damned and forsaken at a age where she should have frolicked alongside other maidens and came prancing back with flowers in her long, windswept tresses. And perhaps this is the reason she has come to do battle, to attempt and rip skeleton from muscle. When she had come to these lands, she'd been labeled a foe in all but words of the BloodEmpress— always favored alongside the Necromancer. And yet as time had meandered on, she had been praised, coddled, had been enwrapt within benign, ardent murmurs and meticulous brushes, defending, jealous by the ginger, freckled Lady.
The Nightingale had not had such meaningless humor when she was but a mere babe— and oh, humor, indeed, for she knew none of it could ever bring up to be legitimate, a wolf did not lather a lamb in kisses but for the knowledge of how it shall taste as dinner— but she could not help the cravings, the desires.

Perhaps that is why she risks her soul as this, but for a few, mere, fragile, and yet hushing, words.
It is at this moment that something strange occurs. If she had known how close she had come to having the very soul she had just reflected upon ripped from her, she would have thanked the gods that they had been merciful enough to spare her from the loss. But as it is, she does not, and so reacts with a chorus of bemusement and trepidation as the jeweled, onyx amulet with a storm in its midst begins to flare, shivering against her bosom, cracks forming within its scalding, blistering surface, and with a screech she wheels backwards from the Jester, attempting to free herself from the smoldering gem. Accusation within her vocals, she raises her spheres to gaze upon the Queen— "What have you DONE to me?!"
There is no time for blame, however, for in the next second her realm flashes as if lightning has struck a nearby oak, and the amulet crumbles into naught but dust, ash, channeling the unseeable wraiths back from her, shielding, protecting, casting the energies back unto that whom has sent them forth to her. She did not know this, however, and so embittered, vexed she dances forth to meet her Queen in warfare, darting with lithe attire to the right, twirling, avoiding the aim to her withers and yet unable to avoid the scythe of a horn down her side, feeling the sting as the tip of the crown slides across her apparel, and the bubbling cruor in its wake. When her Queen moves to slam her frame against her own, however, she snarls, a canine grin spreading jagged across her maw, the remaining flecks of salty tears washed away with the storm. "Fool," she spits, twisting her neck towards the side of her oncoming frame, bowing her sword low and throwing her dome forwards, glinting, slick, having tasted the Queen's cruor once before on this eve.

It would learn to taste it again before the day was done.


796 words 4504 characters:
3/4 :: 0/1

First of all, I would like to apologize if this post seems to be missing a few sentences, or cropped. It was much more elaborate than this, but I crossed far over the word limit, and had to delete a few things to make room. I'm extremely sorry if it seems off, abba! :/
I should also mention I was confused and had to add some fluff into one of the attacks, to be exact, left side to left side, seeing as Circuta was on Seele's right, and generally the same sides (left and right) are always opposing each other. I went about it a little vague, seeing as I didn't quite understand the attack.

Without further ado:
REACTION: Fill in ramble for her misses, thoughts on the matter as they occurred. Back to the present, attempts to come to a abrupt stop, but the ground is too slick, and ends up sliding a little instead. Focused on this instead, manages to come to a halt but is too late to avoid the kick from Seele's hindquarters, digging into the mud below so as she doesn't slip sideways and fall. The hit meets its mark, slamming into her side, and definitely leaving a deep bruise in her more spindly body type. Turns to face Seele, the white's of her eyes shining in fright. A reflection, or breakdown, as to perhaps why she is doing this. Likely lasting only a second or so in reality (this rambled on far too long and took up most of my wordspace, unfortunately). Returns to the ongoing battle when Seele goes to rip her soul. The spark amulet that dangles around her neck begins to glow, trembling, growing hotter and hotter by the second, even as it begins to crack and break apart. Having absolutely no idea what is going on, Circuta reacts in a fashion that would be associated with the odd event, shock and fear, although mixed with accusation, figuring that it is instead Seele that is doing something to the amulet, and not the piece of jewelry itself. In the next second, the amulet flashes with a bright light, and crumbles into dust, reflecting the magic. Left startled, confused and vexed, Circuta moves forwards to meet Seele in battle once more, twisting at the last second to the right and avoiding the attack on her withers by Seele's horn, but instead takes it longways across her side, leaving a sliced and bleeding trail in its wake. When Seele moves to slam her frame against hers, however, she snarls, bowing her head low so that her horn faces her oncoming frame, and thrusting it towards her body as she moves towards her own. This is where I was confused how Seele was attacking, and left it vague, so as to avoid PP.

Not many attacks in this post, however, I couldn't do anymore with the words I had left. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience!
Circuta is using her Spark Amulet against Seele.
THE FEAR OF FALLING APART
(TRUTH BE TOLD, I NEVER WAS YOURS)

Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Seele the Necromancer Posts: 210
Deceased atk: 5.5 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.2 hh :: five (ages orangemoon) Buff: NOVICE
Abba
#8
As she turns toward me, I can see the white’s gleaming in her eyes. She’s afraid, Innerste whispers and I can only swallow the emotions from the rest of the voices as I allow the rain to continue to wash away sin from my pelt. The stinging pain of my ear reminds me that I am still alive and that I needed to stay that way. So, I did what I believed I had to in order to do just that.

The souls were at the ready, and the second I conducted them to yank I was charging forward. However, it was that same second that the souls seemed to disappear – the white noise around me from their chattering voices was gone. But I forced myself to go on, hearing the sound of Circuta’s question of what I’d done to her with the shattering of the gem around her neck. I had done nothing – not if the souls were gone. They weren’t laughing as they usually where. And, then, as suddenly as the souls had disappeared they reappeared. Sickening vocals reached my ears. Cries of horror and sadness were lacing apologies as they clung to my pelt – fighting against the demand to pull what is mine – what they have been directed to do. I feel my horn slice into Circuta’s side, blood coating up against it and sliding down glass, mixing with the water from the heavens above. But, it seems that the souls cannot hold off any longer. The order in their minds is too strong and it only takes a second or two for my body to lose its soul, a fighting and kicking soul that does not leave without a good lashing.

I am numb. All over me I am numb. It is a pins and needles feeling and I can’t tell just where I’m placing my limbs. I should know. I should be able to place myself in the world. But I just, I cannot. My dull mind is attempting to aid me in gathering my footing again (having pushed off from my right side to shove against her left), not wanting to fall with her if I managed to succeed in my attempt to make her fall. But it is a horn that meets the point of my hip and slides up my croup instead of her bodice crashing with the mud. No pain, not yet. Just a quiet feeling as my mind almost places my sight above the world that I am in. Out of body experience? Most definitely it is.

But as soon as the soul snaps back into my frame it is a different story. It’s as if I’d been struck by the lightning that is moving ever closer to us. I’m wincing, stumbling to the side- away from Circuta, and emitting a low hiss from my maw. So that’s what it feels like to get a soul pulled. Unheil laughs amused at the situation that I had fallen into. I did not plan on experiencing that again. However, I also hadn’t realized that my soul pulling magic involved pain. Carefully, I lock that away in my memory as I finally stand stable.

My mind is racing, body unable to keep up with it as the pain shocks my brain into gear. However, the numbness and radiating pain keeps my movements slow and dragging. It had to have been that jewel that had shattered. That, or she had more magic I didn’t know about. I was hoping it wasn’t the latter, but if it was I should be concerned. No more soul pulling, Liebling says, anxious about the situation as I stumble around on my feet, moving left and right until I am facing Circuta head on. Yellow eyes are dull, pain lurking in their corners but not really attempting to take in everything that is around me.

Slowly, all of my feeling was returning, and as I pushed off of my hindquarters to attack Circuta’s right shoulder, I can feel the sharp pain screaming from my hindquarters. She did this. I need to stop her from doing this again. I’m still slow, I’m still feeling electrocuting pain inside of me that has no point of origin, but I can feel the wound stinging with the rain continuing its slow attack on the wounds.

You’re alive. You’re alive. Innerste reminds me and I know that the pain is only a reminder of exactly that. For I am alive, I can still fight, and I can still attempt to make this all stop.

Normal
Voices
"Speech"

[760/800] & [3/4]


** deleted and reposted because I posted it from admin account. I flail. I know |:

When I wrote that up I was picturing Seele far enough back in her evasion that she could choose what side she attacked. As far as left side to left side - Seele's left side is facing Circuta's left side. Attacking Seele's right puts Circuta's right in danger etc. I was just using sides based on what their point of view would have been in that reaction explanation. Seele was just trying to push her over with her momentum using her side to slam into her (like one would use their shoulder to shove into a door type movement).

REACTION: Seele goes in for the attack, and she can hear the souls apologizing for what they are about to have to do she notices Circuta’s horn aimed at her flesh. Her soul is pulled, and she goes numb, unable to truly place herself in order to avoid the horn nicking her at the point of her hip and then slicing at the fur along her croup. She stumbles away as her soul returns to her body and pain takes over, finally understanding that her flesh had been sliced by Circuta’s horn. And, once she fully recognizes where she is (now facing Ciructa head on) she attempts to move forward and strike at Circuta’s right shoulder with her horn – determined to not call upon the souls again.
Seele
you better run to survive, before she makes you her latest slaughter
Credits
●☽ ☾●
Glory and Gore go Hand in Hand
That's Why We're Making Headlines
●☽ ☾●

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#9
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Extermination, eradication, malice and sorrow rumbling within her cranium, cruel hymns and cruor dribbling lacerations, the sting of rain as it rivulets against the gash in her flesh, malleable sinew collapsing beneath her crown— the scent of copper and earth, rich and bitter weighing burdensome upon her tongue as the humid spring air, cardinal and onyx frame giving against the slice of her scythe, the life-giving liquor splattering against her dome, the barrage against sworn oath's resulting in ultimate carnage as it curves within the sinew of her croup and out again, washing away with the rolls of thunder, the flashes of lightning, the downpour of rain. There is no satisfaction, no glee coursing as a river throughout her veins, mere grim knowledge that years shall come, and the scars will only dim, but the result of her actions will remain placid against the Jester's apparel. She yanks her dome upward once more to observe the sniveling creature before her, even as she stumbles and lurches away, and the Nightingale's hoarse, shrill voice echoes once more, advancing onward after her in the promise of yet more havoc and overthrow, annihilation and demise, of yet more cruor to be spilt upon the muddied grounds, quivering and solid, stone and water. "You lied," her breath mists in the air and she snarls, torn betwixt being a wolf and a lamb, a predator and the sheep in which it preys upon. The craven continues to sway and careen, staggering as a drunken man cast from the bar, and she observes her with meek violet spheres, alabaster lashes fanning out against her cheekbones— hazy, catlike amber gaze finally meeting her own, triggering a simultaneous intake of both unhappiness and distress, coupled with ghastly determination. "You may have endeavored for a cure, but a cure has not ceased you from loving us, as a mother is meant to do for her cubs. No— my Queen, you have ABANDONED us in the wake of a better band, teaming among cretins who were deemed our allies, as if you care about them MORE! They are still our allies, not our kin. We bled for you, for the Asylum— for OUR KINGDOM. Not a house laden with strangers, to whom I would not recognize even if we met on the street."

The woman launches herself forth, mangled and battered, mutilated with the tip of her dagger, bruised, enervated and ponderous, and fleet as the wind she sidesteps starboard, flashing her croup to face the Jester's oncoming bodice and lashing out towards her right side once more, digging her hooves firm among the soil, anchored within the syrupy, foul smelling earth. If her aim was correct, she would inflict yet more bruises, anguish for days to come, if she did not find spellbound ways in order to mend her wounds, and when her weight comes crashing back down again, she uses the momentum left behind and channels it into a trot straight ahead, spraying mud to and fro, switching around to view the Queen once more. Lowering her scythe as the executioner's axe, laborious, grisly, forwards after her again, aiming for the tender, babes soft sinew of her right flank, the violet edge gleaming deathly and callous in the pale morn (forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me). All the while, her lyrics echo across the clearing, singsong and spinning, rancorous webs and vehement words. "Yet, what more should I have expected, from one whom dwells under such a legend as a Jester. Is this not what you do best? Lying, falsifying, deceit? What else should I have expected from a clown posing as a royal? You never loved us. You wouldn't have left us for a King of the desert otherwise."

Glistening fangs, slavering maw, a carnal curve to the grinning scarlet rows, glazed indigo depths. "Your sister never left us, you know. The freckled Empress. She still leads us— us, the Asylum, not a band of misplaced fools, as you are. Power has corrupted you, just like it corrupts them all. Do you know what we do with dogs gone astray, darling?" A malicious giggle rises from her bosom, fractured, slivered, delirious from anguish, unhinged. "We get rid of them, See-eel-ee."


707 words 4083 characters:
4/4 :: 0/1

My apologies! Thank you for the clarification. I understand now.

Without further ado:
REACTION: Watches as Seele stumbles away from her, speaking, mental rambles. Remains still at first, then begins to move forward after her, at a slow pace, not fast enough to reach her before she attacks again. Stops when Seele begins to charge forward, sidestepping to the left to avoid her, turning her haunch towards her and digging her hooves deep into the mud, finding some suction in the sticky grounding. Bucks out at Seele, hopefully as she passes by, aiming to hit her left side, blind. When her weight comes down again, she uses the lasting momentum and breaks into a trot straight ahead, twisting back around to face her. Still aiming for her left side, she bows her head once more, aiming towards the soft flesh of Seele's flank, speaking as she does so.

A wonderful fight, abba. Thank you!
THE FEAR OF FALLING APART
(TRUTH BE TOLD, I NEVER WAS YOURS)

Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Seele the Necromancer Posts: 210
Deceased atk: 5.5 |
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.2 hh :: five (ages orangemoon) Buff: NOVICE
Abba
#10
My mind, it’s so hazy. Shock after shock of pain is radiating through each little nerve in my frame. I’m slow, too slow. My attack forward is met only with Circuta side-stepping out of my way, horn meeting nothing but air. I double take – slow reactions having my hooves unable to cling to the mud and sliding around. It is when they finally gain traction in a deeper spot that her back hooves slam into my right side, not only leaving muddy prints but also bruising the flesh near my flank.

It is that slam, though, that jolts the souls free and causes the pain and disorientation to cease. With a clear mind I spread my legs out, gather my balance and huff as she begins to speak again – yellow orbs eyeing the mare’s frame as she trots off just enough to keep the momentum from dragging her down into a defenseless position upon the ground. But more than the shock has been knocked free from my mind – the sane voices in my subconscious also have been. She speaks of abandonment. I don’t really listen too much to the rest of what falls from her mouth. No all I hear is: “Blah, blah, blah.” Has she ever understood how screechy her voice sounds? I honestly thought that someone with emotions would be able to understand something like that is just not appealing, but apparently not.

I take deep breaths in as I see her charging toward me once more, more towards my left side than before. Stinging and pulsing wounds upon my left haunch are not willing to allow me to rear up or push off and bolt forward. No. It doesn’t matter, though; I continue to shift my weight – moving across the sloppy mud, not willing to stand still for too long. My audits pin as the sound of her voice still whining – speaking of things she cannot possibly understand.

How one even attempts to concentrate while formulating such riddled sentences is far beyond me – though I will admit it might be far easier for me as I was not hindered by these emotions that must be overpowering her. No. These emotions are gone – far gone from me – the second the voices in my subconscious disappeared I was that wall again, that wall of nothing. I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t dumbfounded, I wasn’t anything (except maybe in small amounts of pain). And, because I harbored no feelings, I was willing to take on more pain – to continue to feel alive.

I don’t move, I pretend that I am still slow, injured from whatever it was she thought was causing my state to deteriorate. I preform a slower twist than I would have done usually, and I can feel her dagger grip into the upper portion of my left flank. Being short in stature has never felt so good, knowing that it meant it didn’t ruin the muscles in my side. And then I turn toward the left, legs moving sloppily as I careen after her. Mud flies everywhere and my body is low, tilting at a dangerous angle but just barely managing to come back before I can smack into the ground.

Death. Destruction. Retribution for this wrong! Apparently I hadn’t lost all the voices (how very unfortunate for Circuta), for that feral voice’s words sounded clear. At the last second, I aim to stab her in the soft flesh near her front left elbow – coming at her from behind. If I hit her artery, I didn’t care. In fact, it was all that much better. If she lost that much blood it would force the imbecile to stop this idiocy. My voice carries as I speed towards her, “You’re right. I never loved you. I never loved anyone. That’s because I don’t feel emotions. That doesn’t mean I haven’t taken you all as my own. I would fight first for Asylum, then for the Falls. However, I was given a job by the Earth God himself and I will do it.”

She doesn’t understand. In fact, no one can. No one knows what it is like to know you are supposed to feel something yet have nothing there. And I’ve tried so hard, so damn hard to mimic the expressions and the actions of those who can actually feel – So I can be normal. I slice my horn up quickly, hopefully having made contact with flesh, hopefully having blood dripping off of my horn. And, with that slice, I am snapping out at her flesh, hoping to tear a chunk of it away with my teeth. DESTRUCTION! The feral voice is screaming again, and it’s all I can do to follow.

This whole thing needs to stop. That much, yes that much, I was completely, utterly sure of.

Normal
Voices
"Speech"

[800/800] && [4/4]
**Your actual post said she bucked out at the right side, but reaction said left, so was a little confused there. I went with right because if Seele attacked Circuta's right side then Circuta would have to attack Seele's right side in that attack.

REACTION: Seele gets hit by the buck, bruising muscle around her flank and having hoof prints on her side. This hit knocks her back to her senses, but also gets rid of the more sane voices in her skull. She pretends to act as though she were 'deteriorating' like she had been with the souls, and takes a gash to the top of her flank, before spinning around and going to attack Circuta's left side from behind (talking as she does so) - aiming at the flesh behind her left shoulder. And, then she moves to slice her horn up and try to take a bite out of Circuta's shoulder.

And good fight to you too
Seele
you better run to survive, before she makes you her latest slaughter
Credits
●☽ ☾●
Glory and Gore go Hand in Hand
That's Why We're Making Headlines
●☽ ☾●

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#11
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Tenebrous hymns, nefarious canticle, a droplet of cruor bubbling with the rain in her quivering nostrils—accomplishment and progress, gloom pooling within violet spheres, mud slapping against anchors and the dull eyed Jester careening after her wake.
The Nightingale is no mercenary upon the field, no Prince with a scar laden side, no, she is a mere commoner among the tids of royalties, a impure witch with pestilence in her stride— mindless to the whims, the ideals, the minds of bloated King's upon thrones and fed Princesses from their hallowed rooms. She is a bloodhound, a Sleuth, a visionary, the umber that blends along the corridors, a emissary, scrutinizing and callow in the ways of warfare, and it is this fault, this underestimation that writes her doom upon the wall, the misjudging concept that if she has not landed a blow aimed for death upon her Queen's withers, she would not aim for death upon hers.
   She was wrong.

Raucous and ringing, flat and Siberian echoes the lyrics, the depraved, the ruthless bellow, a howl echoing forth from a wolf's maw— fangs outstretched in the form of a crown, they are both wolves, both borne from the same pack, and when she flinches to the left from the outstretched scythe it is too late and the strangled wail that is brought forth from iron lungs is but a mewl within her own harks, listening and not, as if she has dunked her dome beneath the froth filtered waves, gathering salt upon her snowy lashes, the rain becoming the spray, the thunder the waves on the beach— drowning within her own sinew as the dagger slides beneath the upper layer of flesh, straight through the other side, glass drenched in cardinal liquor, dribbling from the edges of the wound inflicted, agonizing, scalding, melding and fusing with the twisted trauma that rises within her cranium, the distress, the daze, numbing her to her core.
The Queen had endeavored to kill her.

Horrified and stunned lavender turn alongside a alabaster and onyx dome to gaze, hazily, upon the blurred blotch within her vision, a half choked whimper sliding from her throat as she slices upwards, snapping through the layer of sinew, freed from her teetering frame, leaving behind raw tissue, and as a fractured dam the sanguine liquids overspill down her legs, leaving her to wobble and flounder further, sidestepping to the right, faltering and reeling with revulsion, hearing the clack of teeth mere milliseconds from snapping into her withers.
The turbulence from the storm continues, and with a mere breeze against her side she has fallen, knees grazing the muddied soil, the heavy odor of cruor in her nostrils, sticky and syrupy, and it is with vague recognition she realizes it is her own life that has begun to litter the earth around her.
   "Was this a training battle? Or a skirmish that the Asylum needs to take revenge for?"

The aroma of rot and demise, eradication and casualties, maggots writhing alongside bloated corpses— mad laughter, cackling cries, vermilion Mistresses and Jester crowned Queen's, lightning strikes upon the horizon— and is that the burdensome odor of smoke, laden upon her tongue?
"Circuta, come forward sister."

The weight of her dome feels all too heavy as she ambiguously observes the Jester, well aware of her vulnerable position upon the Earth, jaws hanging limp as a mere fish, teeth grazing, voice cracking, extending, benign and velvet as the cries of morning larks, the evensong of the rain. She had never been going to— to end her. "You.. sought to slay me. Am man?"
   Determination. She cannot give into failure.

She had pledged, assured, promised...
   "Dance with me?"

The Nightingale's throat clenches— something damp and warm pooling at the edges of her spheres, a sloppy laugh dancing from her cracked lips, a crimson bubble snorting from her left nostril. Her lyrics are drained, wasted, worn, collapsing into the roll of the thunder. "We don't need a monarch, Jester."
She thinks that the terrain is ever so serene place to be. Could she simply fuse into it, if she laid here long enough?
"We need to be cherished."


692 words 4063 characters:
4/4 :: 1/1

Literal post is correct. Reaction commentary is however wrong! I was half-asleep when I wrote the former, so I was far too concentrated on making the actual post correct.
I'd love to have a spar with you again sometime! :D

Without further ado:
REACTION: Listens to Seele as she speaks. Convinced that Seele isn't going to try and fatally harm her. When she aims her horn to the sensitive skin leading to a artery, however, she flinches to the right, away from her aim, but far too late to stop it. The horn slides through the upper layer of flesh and sinew, causing bleeding, but not hitting the artery. Unable to move away with the realization, left in shock that Seele has tried to kill her, turns her head to gaze horrified at the Necromancer, whimpering in pain as the horn slashes upwards, ripping through the skin and leaving a flap behind. Freed from the horn, stumbles away to the right, avoiding the teeth on withers by mere accident. Falls to the ground with a gust of wind, remembering back to various comments and threads, either by herself, Seele, or Eris. Sees a flash of lightning. Thinks she smells the scent of smoke.

The rest is self explanatory!
Again, thank you for the wonderful fight.
Am man? Is Elvish, translated: Why?

THE FEAR OF FALLING APART
(TRUTH BE TOLD, I NEVER WAS YOURS)

Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#12
By my verdict: SEELE is the winner!

CIRCUTA
Realism [-1]
I feel as though you have a good hold on response time, however much of the low score here is due to general confusion and unclarity provided by the writing. Many of your attacks and defenses could have been more realistic had you described them in a bit more detail - the majority of the time you just briefly mentioned an attack or dodge, never really explaining how you executed it or at times, what side it was on. In fact there were several times I wasn’t even aware you had written an attack until I was reading Seele’s response and saw her dodging something, so I’d go back to re-read your post and sure enough a few vague words were there amid everything else. For instance your bubble magic attack in the first post.

For similar reasons I would suggest using more direct language when you do explain your attacks and defenses, because there was a lot of convoluted replacements, such as “anchors” for hooves, or trying to figure out what “her/she” was referring to which horse (don’t be afraid to use their actual names!), that took me longer to sort out than a clear cut word would have done.

Otherwise I thought you fought well from what you focused on fighting in your posts. I definitely saw you improve as the fight progressed as well which is always enjoyable to read. Just be cautious that you don’t forget that these are horses we’re working with, because in the first posts I saw lots of jugular talk which isn’t very realistic for these animals - albeit yours was a horn attack to the jugular which is a bit more understandable than attempting to bite that area, but you did take a bite to your jugular and commented it was bleeding quite a lot, when horse’s do not have teeth capable of inflicting that kind of damage like a predator would - in that same attack though you were trying to stab Seele’s throat and bite her ear, which wouldn’t physically make sense.

You took sufficient injuries, but I would have like more detail on what the actual injury involved and how it impacted Circuta through the duration of the fight.

I did enjoy your references to the mud, particularly as you had Circuta slip on several occasions. I think you can easily extend that further and really make the mud, which seemed pretty bad in this terrain, impact her further and be expressed in each post. For instance she could have easily damaged herself on the mud do to an unexpected turn of her body or the mud holding her/slowing her causing her to be unable to dodge on time. I saw a lot in this fight of each horse just taking each other’s attacks, which is fine, but you can definitely get more creative with why attacks landed or missed with such an interesting terrain as this fight had.

Overall you have good attack and defense ideas (loved how you used the amulet to combat Seele’s magic!), just go into more detail about them. Don’t be afraid to explain and expand, and to keep it simple. I know with time and practice you’ll become a great fighter :)


Emotion [+0.5]
Your emotion did improve with each post as the fight went on, but even so I was left continuously wondering how Circuta felt and what her motives were. So much of your word count went into just describing the appearances of the setting and the fighters, that I actually felt overwhelmed and never got a chance to really be submersed alongside this battle with Circuta, because so much was focused on how things looked and not how they acted or why they acted. When she attacks, what is she hoping for, why did she choose that attack? If it hits or if it misses, how does that affect her and her next calculations? If she is struck, what goes on in her mind, does it anger her, motivate her?

Your last post was definitely the best in regards to emotion, but unfortunately a closing defense doesn’t judge anything but the realism portion.


Prose [+2]
You have a very extensive vocabulary and a rich style. Adjusting your sentence structure might provide better flow however, as often the transitions were choppy and the paragraphs large.


Readability [-1]
Although I can appreciate your style for what it is, it considerably and repeatedly hindered my ability to read, much less judge and understand this fight. You had frequent run on sentences and often used “a” when it should have been “an”. You did improve over the course of the fight in regards to grammar, but the sentences were still frequently long and overly verbose. In the future you can certainly maintain your style, but tone it down so that it adds to the writing rather than detracts from it.


Finally tally: 36+0.5= 36.5 HP

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

SEELE
Realism [+2]
Once again you do a great job with your injuries, particularly in your last post I loved you mentioning some attacks Seele could not accomplish due to her hurt haunches. I also really enjoyed your reaction to your own magic being turned against her, though I think you could have done more with Circuta’s suffocating magic in your first post. Additionally in that first post be careful of having a horse bite attack another horse’s jugular. This is not realistic for a horse, not just behavior wise (as I do understand these are more like human-horses), but also equipment wise they simply don’t have the teeth to deal good damage in that location. There are much better vital areas a horse can attack, outside of normal horse behavior, that would be more realistic, such as trying to kick leg joints or horn the less protected underbelly and flank area.

With injuries though be careful not to exaggerate them too much, I thought your bleeding ear was a bit overdone, but otherwise liked everything else.

I would like to see you go into more detail to actually described your attacks and defenses, which only goes further to make them more realistic and plausible - for instance give me a good reason why she’d attack someone’s jugular with her teeth and I just might be convinced. I especially wanted this detail in your third post when you say you attack her shoulder, but really don’t say how or with what. Leaving it so vague makes it easier to misinterpret, so it’s best to provide clear direction of your approach, your aim/intention, what side you’re attacking, what way you’re facing before and after, what you do after/if succeed or fail etc. This might have helped more with the confusion Circuta expressed with one of your attacks and your own confusion from Circuta’s attack where she said right side and you took the injury to your left side (fourth post), which I believe was due to the majority of the fight not clearly listing sides prior and a switch of sides in Circuta’s summary, which I’ll get to in a minute.

I liked the few references you made to Seele’s height and the occasional nod to the terrain, but I really felt there could have been a lot more added in, especially terrain wise. Circuta described a pretty detailed scenery with a lot happening that you could have used to your advantage, or disadvantage, pretty often. Going that extra mile to add that in really gives a nice touch to the realism and can make a big difference with the way you attack and dodge as well, especially with a muddy, rainy setting like this one.

Overall great job with the attacks and defenses and injuries, just go into more detail about them, including scenery. Keep at it and in no time you’ll be awesome!


Emotion [+2]
You had great emotion throughout the entire fight, especially in your first post. In fact I would have never thought that this character was intended to be bad at feeling if I hadn’t read it in your last post.


Prose [+3 ]
You have a nice prose and especially a good flow. I also saw a noticeable difference from your last fight I read in regards to Seele’s voices. They added to her character and did not impede my reading as they did last time, so I appreciate and recognize that change.


Readability [+1.5]
I found your posts easy to read and understand all throughout the fight. There were a few times that you would start a sentence with “and” which I do not believe is correct, but otherwise everything looked fine in regards to structure and grammar.


Finally tally: 41+8.5= 49.5 HP


A note to both fighters
I wanted to bring up something I saw both of you doing throughout the fight that wasn’t something I judged on, but that I think influenced both of your responses during the fight, so is important to touch on.

You both provided summaries at the end of your posts, which is never something judges will score, or usually even look at. They are traditionally a way to provide a quick synopsis of your attacks and defenses, and even your injuries, so that your opponent and/or you can easily reference back without having to wade through everything in your entire post. These have never been required, but can be helpful which is why some people do them.

However, I found that you two had summaries nearly as large as your posts, and that you seemed to be confusing yourselves because at times what the summary said and what the post said might be different (such as an attack left vs. right) or the summary might actually have more detail (or at least simplified detail) about an attack/defense than the post, and at times it felt like you two would respond to what was in the summary rather than the post, which frequently had me confused since I wasn’t looking at the summaries.

Again there is no penalty or anything, but in the future I would consider heavily shortening your summaries and never relying on them to figure out your response post in a fight.


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