“Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next.” ― George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords It was once said that those who have loved know all too well what it’s like to experience ultimate pain as well. When the love you once felt dissolves beneath you it leaves you drowning in the sorrows of the sea. The dappled stallion stood there silently watching the water lap over the sandy shoreline lost momentarily in thought. How was it that he had seemed to lose everything most precious in his life while never having done wrong to anyone? Were the good guys not always supposed to come out happy in the end? Shaking his head he felt little all his emotions twist into a knot yet he felt none of it physically. It was almost as if he was frozen in time waiting for things to go back to the way they were. Only problem was there was nothing that could be done to change the past, it was only the future he had to look forward to so he better start trying to see through the haze. Overhead the sun drew to its peak at high noon making the multitude of colours within the water shine brightly under the direct rays like a sheet of glass. It reminded him of the beautiful glass creatures that one of the herds had given out as tokens of peace, the edge if he could recall correctly. It was a calming scene with the sandy shores displayed to both sides of him while a rocky ridge ensnared the landscape a ways behind him at the borders of the two lands. Turning his back to the water his steps brought him inland a couple hundred meters as he turned his mind to what he had come here for. A simple spar was what he wanted and something that he would not leave without. Silver eyes fell upon briefly to the tigress that chose to accompany him; if not for her he would be lost in this lifetime and not know how to move forward. After the encounters within the borders of his home he could feel the burn of battle still aching through every muscle. That little episode was not nearly enough to scratch that itch, he craved a larger release and the only way that would happen would be another go round. Raising his cranium high and setting his shoulders, a cry rang from his chords calling forth anyone who felt like they could take him on. He was up for a challenge so it was time to see who would come forward. ___________________________________________________ Opening Thread, 0/3 attack posts + closing defense No Companions or Magic Setting: Endless Blue, midday upon the sandy shores with rocky ridge further away leading up into the Rotunda . Sun is high in the sky with no clouds in sight. Ciceron talks Ciceron thinks Kiara speaks ••WORDS: 423 •• TAGS: @[Bellona] •• NOTES: See notes above, if you have any trouble reading my text let me know :) ••

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Bellona To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins. It is with childish abandon that the maiden relishes in the feeling of the ocean's spray enveloping her striped pillars. The radiant light that is reflected on the water forces her to protect her eyes from the glare, and she succumbs to the shifting winds as she closes them. The hybrid relies solely on her wings for guidance, and there is not a single drop of uncertainty to taint her calm mind. There is no crippling fear to press at her insides, nor any trace of butterflies attempting to rip through her stomach; all that the peahen can feel is the sense of freedom that the crisp breeze and salty air can offer her. She cannot remember the last time she was able to experience such a powerful feeling, this liberation. Perhaps if she can think hard enough then she can conjure up the memory, but she has become enslaved to this moment of serenity, and the beautiful bird does not wish to remove her shackles. It has been so long since her heart was not burdened by loss that she almost forgot how it felt to be whole. Yet no matter how hard she tries, the chieftess can never completely remove the memories that have plagued her for so long. The pain that holds onto her like a starved dog to a bone refuses to fade, but she finds that she does not resent its persistence. Her agony serves as a reminder of the promise that she made the day that she returned to this land. I will not forget you. Unveiling orange pools to reveal her hard stare, the maiden struggles to suppress the rush of emotions that grapples with her mind for control. Anguish, anger and agony all vie for the opportunity to overwhelm her senses, but Bellona is resistant to their attempts at mutiny. She will not reveal anguish, for that reveals weakness. She will not reflect anger, for that reflects pain. She will not welcome agony, for that welcomes despair. All the warrior wants now is a distraction from her memories, and she churns the air with her instruments to bring herself to shore. It does not take long for her to find such a thing, and it has conveniently presented itself in the form of a dappled stag. She casts her gaze over his muscular frame, taking note of the weapon that is embedded in his skull and the burns that mar his broad shoulders and crest. The fact that her opponent is already injured does not deter her from approaching him, and she buries her chocolate hooves in the sand as she lands. Even in her current state of woe the maiden has subconsciously placed herself directly in front of her adversary, and roughly five strides from where he waits. A warm breath of wind tousles her lime locks, pulling them away from her face as she returns his call. Her voice is carried away with the breeze, and she increases her volume until the sound morphs into a battle cry. Let the battle commence. Wasting no time in approaching the unicorn, Bellona urges her lithe legs into motion and digs her hooves into the sand. The grainy substance gives easily to the bite of her weapons as she moves, and the bird’s pursuit is as swift as it is determined. The blood that roars behind her ears is deafening as she prepares to meet the stallion, and the anticipation of making contact frees the frenzied vixen from all other emotions. The only thoughts that fill her head are those that will ensure her success, and there is no hint of the stress that had wrenched her from the euphoria she had experienced earlier. The beauty is no longer trying to be what she is not – a sweet, happy woman without a care in the world – and she has reverted to the goddess of war that she is supposed to be. Many moons have passed since she last engaged in combat, but Bellona finds that it is easy to slip back into the calculating mind and skillful body that is required to address this situation. This is how it feels to be whole. She is attentive to the task of initiating a fight with the heavyset gray, and as the warrior gains speed she unfolds her wings and lifts her body into a rear. Aiming to slam into the burns that cover the stallion’s left side, the chieftess uses her momentum to pull herself forwards. Her hooves attempt to strike at the thick meat of his neck and top of his shoulder, and in the hopes of clamping her porcelain weapons onto his charred wither she reaches out with a gaping maw. She can already taste his blood on her sapphire lips. "Talk talk talk." {WC: 800|Attack: 1/3|Defense: 0/1 @[Ciceron]}

From the moment he bellowed out his call his demeanor changed from that of solitude and peace into something much more appropriate for the impending battle; calm and focused. Closing his silver orbs to the light for a brief moment he inhaled the warm salty air and let his thoughts go so he could fine focus to the task ahead. Nothing could distract his thoughts nor sway his step, he would have to draw from his knowledge and analyze each aspect with care. Let’s do this. Opening his eyes as the stench of another assaulted his nares he raised his head so to see his opponent standing opposite to himself. The most striking feature that presented itself was the rainbow of colours strewn over the Pegasus literally from head to hoof. Did someone have some trouble with painting within the lines or was this more of a tie dyed theme? A smirk turned up his lips for a fraction of a second before her battle cry pierced the air and she lunged forward. Pinning his ears to his skull he tensed his muscles preparing them for what was to come next. Mentally calculating their distance from each other his mind pieced together everything that his eyes had seen in the seconds beforehand. His opponent was a Pegasus so that meant she technically had that advantage over him but he carried a weapon she did not. Perhaps that could balance the playing field just a little; now what weaknesses did this one possess? Was this mare one of those who tended to spend a lot of time in the air? If this was true taking out a wing might prove to be valuable he mused silently bracing himself for impending impact as the rainbow mare unfurled her wings and reared up lashing her front legs out in a slapdash fashion. Reacting instinctively he drew his cranium down and in pointing his spear slightly off to the side of his target to protect the sensitive flesh over his neck and withers. The pain of it barely recognized through his progressive thoughts towards what he planned next. Surely he would pay for this later as the tissue would likely stretch and break open with his movements, but he really did not care what happened to him right now. The pain of losing Parelia was one hundred times worse than anything he could sustain on the battle field. With the first already fresh upon his soul he felt as if nothing could ever hurt him worse than that. Tear him to pieces; let the blood flow and perhaps we will see how far he will go. This opponent was only slightly shorter than he was but carried a more agile frame that was built for flight. Ground attacks surely were not her specialty he assumed maybe this could work out well for his landlubber self. Planting his back hooves deeply in the sand as the mare rose up he counted the seconds hoping to time his attack just right. One...Two...Three! As his count hit three the dappled grey threw his weight forward but sideways while driving his spear upwards towards the mare’s soft underbelly hoping to throw her balance off and maybe even do some damage while he was at it. The muscles over his thick frame responded as he had requested releasing and contracting with each carefully placed step. As predicted fire screamed over his neck and shoulder as the burn strongly protested his actions. Cursing under his breath inaudibly he pushed himself harder almost reveling in the pain, it at least let him know he was still alive after all. Ciceron talks Ciceron thinks Kiara speaks Attack 1/3 ••WORDS: 608 •• TAGS: @[Bellona] •• NOTES: -- ••

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Bellona To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins. Annoyance flares up in her breast like a smouldering flame, starting as an ember and growing into something far more lethal. The assault that she has planned for the steel-toned brute falls short at her rear -- her reliance on the sand for dependable footing is what has cost her this victory. Stark blue ears snap back against her skull and the hybrid gnashes her teeth together, missing their intended target as she falls. The peahen is not accustomed to this feeling of failure, and it halts her advance on the unicorn while she attempts to come to terms with it. Her rapid descent begins when her lean legs give out from beneath her, but the maiden struggles to maintain her balance with a frantic flapping of her wings. She has almost prevented herself from a sandy collision when the unicorn decides to help her down; she had thought that his bowed neck was only meant for protection, but perhaps the warrior is not as smart as she thinks. His weapon breaches the border between emerald and ruby skin, and as the pressure of his sword increases so does the depth of this new gash. The wound does not grow as long as it would have if the bird just stood there -- it is no longer than the maiden's cannon bone, and the deepest part of it, where it starts to curve underneath her red belly, is only an inch or so deep. It is the idea of the horned beast piercing her that hurts the warrior the most as she completes her fall, jarring her shoulder when it slams into the sand and causing her right wing some grief when it folds underneath her. The sun-heated particles rise up like a wave and sprinkle her bright hide, becoming ensnared in her thick mane and littering her wound. Now that she is upon the ground the pain finally hits her, and the sharp sting of sand in her fresh cut brings her to immediate action. Picking up her front legs and planting them in the sand, the beauty lifts her body from the earth and casts a weary eye in the direction of her oppressor. Rage puts out of the flames of annoyance like a storm, and she takes this new inspiration of emotion to heart as she unfurls her flying instruments. There is only a dull pang in the right-most wing, but the pain is not extreme enough to make the peahen reconsider her next attack. Sand has found a way in every crevice in each of her wings, and the wily vixen intends to use this to her advantage. Using the shifting ground as her tool, the chieftess puts her weight back on her heels and leans her body to the left to spin towards the dappled soldier. As she performs her twirl Bellona raises her wings above her crown, briefly blocking out the noon-day sun. It is not as if that detail matters, however, for the maiden has closed her eyes to save them from the impeding storm. Working her broad shoulders, she moves her wings in a frantic pulse to dislodge the debris that is wedged between her feathers. The golden particles shower down on the white-laced and (if he has not moved) dappled creatures. It is the winged one’s hope to blind the stallion, and she reveals her orange pools as the last of the sand leaps from her wings. She forces the strong members down and pushes off from the shore with her limber legs, stirring more sand as she takes flight. She rises high enough above Ciceron so that her long legs dangle at the same height as his head, and she is careful to avoid impaling herself as she guides her body closer. Powerful quarters ripple from the effort of pulling her legs up, but that force is released as soon as she brings her legs down. The hybrid is trying to clobber the unicorn’s head with her blunt weapons, and she even aims a swift kick to his horn in an attempt to break it off. Take that, you tzitzimitl! The slight difference in their height is nothing to the swift bird, and she seeks to prove that he has no advantages over her with this act. Her eyes are alight with the challenge at ruining his only weapon, for she feels that she must repay him for the wound that he has afflicted on her. The slash has a steady crimson stream flowing from it now, and malice taints her mind at the thought of her blood marring his pristine figure. She yearns to stain his righteous image with the red that leaks from her body. Let you ruin yourself with the gash you have marked me with. "Talk talk talk." {WC: 799|Attack: 2/3|Defense: 0/1 tzitzimitl - "demon".}

A satisfied smirk dawns across the dappled stud’s maw as it becomes clear that his attack had hit his target. Droplets of the fae’s blood can be seen falling in his peripheral vision as he jerks his head back upright once more. While he is not one to revel in the guts and gore category the satisfied feeling stems more from the small amount of success amongst so many catastrophic failures as of lately. As his hooves sink into the sand to take on his weight the grey is already in motion turning his frame back to face his opponent so not to be blindsided should retaliation spur the mare into quick action. Allowing himself the luxury of an extra step or two to complete his rotation he finds himself looking down upon the grounded Pegasus as she flails trying to regain her composure that he had so mercilessly stripped from her when he knocked her off balance. Watching the fire burn behind her optics he knows that the beast has been ignited within the rainbow mare making the match all the more fun. Streaks of blood trickle slowly down his neck from the large patch of incinerated flesh Aurelia had so graciously left upon him during their last encounter making his brain tune into the deep throbbing resounding from it. Flesh wounds made by inanimate objects seen to create less pain than those caused by the elements, perhaps it was Mother Nature’s way of telling everyone that they better not mess with her powers. Large winged appendages catch his attention as they send a whirlwind of sand towards him from every direction. Instinctively closing his eyes to the onslaught he lets his hindquarters sink down slightly to brace himself against the winds current. As the sand impacts his skin harshly he is forced to keep his eyes shut or risk blinding himself when the grains cut deep into his corneas. Groaning inwardly as his exposed muscle gets pelleted with the tiny shards of what feel like glass he grinds his teeth trying to wait out the gust. As the hail subsides the stallion opens his silver orbs just in time to see the mare’s hooves coming towards his head. Diving sideways in an attempt to avoid the blow one of her hooves manage to strike the side of his skull sending him sideways onto the sandy surface below. Blinding pain sears through his head blacking out all sight for a moment before things slowly begin to fade back into focus. Mildly disoriented from the blow to his cranium and the stabbing pain of his neck injuries he lays still for a moment before forcing his legs into action. Heaving his mass from the dirt he turns his eyes to the sky searching for the damned multicolour witch to figure out his next move. It takes mere seconds to spot her hovering frame a little ways off from where he stood the scent of copper heavy within the air as a trail of blood falls from her open wound. With her airborne the challenge only increased for the dappled stag as he now had to figure out how to get her back to the ground to level the playing field once more. Shaking his head trying to fight off the remaining blurriness determination swept over the grey, there was no way he could face losing this battle to one who was too chicken to fight fair. Pushing himself off his hooves dug into the sand spurring him forward after the mare being cautious not to get in the way of her dangling feet. With each pounding step he took the pain was agonizing and quite difficult to ignore any longer leaving a hitch into his stride but he pushed onwards. Eyes searched the landscape for anything that could be of use only to find something reflect in the heat of the sun. Perfect, a rock might just do the trick. Reaching down with care he scooped up the object between his teeth only to find that it was no rock but rather a pissed off crab angry at him for disturbing it. Oh well all the same idea only not his first choice of object, he thought as he whipped his head forward in the hopes of tossing the creature into the fae. Sorry dude! OK Distraction...Check…now for him to follow through as well. Bunching his muscles he surged faster alongside the mare before giving one leap forward to plant his hooves as his hindquarters spun up achieving full extension in an attempt to aim a well placed kick to any part of the mutt he could reach. Please let this work… he thought mentally apologizing to the crab that got caught up in this. Attack (2/3) Ciceron talks Ciceron thinks Kiara speaks ••WORDS: 795 •• TAGS: @[Bellona] •• NOTES: -- ••

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Bellona To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins. A trickle of sweat forms a track through the sand that dusts a blue cheek, and the chieftess' rapid thrum of her wings begins to slow. Fatigue is starting to drape over the warrior like a blanket that is scarce of thread; doing little to affect the thrashing bird, yet still there nonetheless. She watches the stallion as he loses consciousness, taking a brief reprieve as he loses contact with his senses. Although thankful for the chance to catch her breath, the maiden does not pause for long, and works her instruments to bring her body closer. It is stupid of him to lie there in wait, and the unforgiving woman is determined to teach him a lesson. She dives for the resting gray with her feet outstretched, aiming to slam her chocolate hooves against his ashen barrel before using him to push off again. The amount of damage that she has managed to deal is unknown to her, but the thought means nothing to the bird as she is already in the air again. A thick green tail slices through the air as Bellona gains altitude, and she turns her body in a graceful dive to the right, ensuring that she is facing the stag. She narrows her orange pools in suspicion as the mixed breed fumbles around in the sand. Just what does he think he is doing? Does he not realize that there is a fight to be had here? The chieftess doesn’t label the unicorn as a coward, but she cannot deny that his attention has diverted from her -- the stunning and dangerous peahen – to the plain wet beach that lies underfoot. That blow to the head couldn’t have made him stupid, could it? She receives an answer to her discourteous question when the stallion tosses a small, round object towards her. The agile woman is swift enough to dodge the blow, but she turns her blue crown to watch the writhing thing as it falls. Her cold orange gaze narrows when she realizes that that thing is a crab. Sapphire ears sweep back across her head as her lips part to bellow, "How dare you! This is not his fight!" The blood that pumps to her open wound seems to weigh heavier in her veins as she rotates her body to confront the stallion. But as she welcomes the rage that seeps into her red canals, the bird realizes that her outburst has given him enough time to make a confrontation of his own. Unable to move away from the bucking stallion in time, the bird kicks out with her heels in the hopes of deflecting his hooves. The maneuver does not go as planned, however, and the colored chokes back a cry of pain as his weapons scrape against her left hind. Like the gash that marks her abdomen, the new injury throbs to the pounding beat of her heart. The hybrid is weary of the wound regardless of its lack of blood, and she makes a note to prevent her left cannon from sustaining any further damage. She flexes the swelling limb to test it as she lifts herself higher into the noon-day sky. At least she can still make use of it. Returning her attention to the dappled brute, the chieftess prepares for retaliation. Her calculating gaze widens at the sight of blood on his scorched hide – the flesh there must be weaker than she has thought it to be, for her previous attempt at festering with the wound has failed. Can sand really cause so much grief? The peahen doubts it, for her own infliction feels only mild discomfort from its unwelcome presence. She finds it to be more annoying than fear-inducing to know that the cut must be tended to if it is to avoid infection. Perhaps she will see a healer about it. Does her herd even have one of those? Ignoring the potential threat, the maiden devotes her energy to attempting to drive her hooves into the burns that cloak her opponent’s neck. She pulls her rowing members in at her sides as she braces her legs for impact, allowing gravity to take charge as she falls towards the unicorn. The warrior is so attuned to her assault that she does not notice the howl of the wind as it rushes past her audits, or the salty taste of the sea as she separates her lips in a devilish scream. Her sister’s mantra manages to penetrate her attentive mind as she rushes to embrace the stag. To lose the war, yet die in battle, is honoring the Gods with the life they bestowed in us; to win the war, yet flee the battle, is disgracing the Gods, and you have betrayed your true role in this life. "Talk talk talk." {WC: 800|Attack: 3/3|Defense: 0/1 @[Ciceron]}

Every muscle fibre was stretched to maximum extension as momentum propelled the movements of the grey stag as he silently prayed to the battle gods above. For once in his miserable life let something work out as he planned, please just let his daggers make the wench pay for her cheap shot at him. Vibration reverberated though his joints as the satisfying sound of hoof upon flesh completely made his day; well at least for the time being. Twisting his legs once more so that they would impact the earth at the correct angle he followed through to complete the circuit. As his hooves hit sand his gaze whipped up in the hopes of seeing what damage he had caused the winged creature while in the back of his mind the devil chanted for it to be a broken limb of some sort. “So she has a voice after all.” He commented smugly as he bit back the displeasure of the results he had procured. “Damn the mare was still airborne and seemed no worse for wear other than maybe a minor sprain!” Harks laid back against his skull the grey snapped his jaws due to all the pent up frustration of not only this battle but many other areas in his life.“Failure!” Narrowing his silver gaze in an attempt to refocus he watched the tie dye lift herself only higher out of his reach knowing damn well he could do nothing to stop her. Unable to stand still with the blood pounding within his ears he circled impatiently waiting for the mare to make up her mind as to what she was doing. “Females gods how they were so indecisive! “ “Running away so soon?” Chuckling softly he turned to words to try and get the mare back down to where he could reach her. No sooner had he called out did she finally decide to oblige to his request ever so kindly. As the multi-coloured mare dove towards him using gravity to her advantage he continued to circle hoping to make her attempts to hit him that much harder. Weighing his choices of attack against what few options the Pegasus was giving him an idea began forming within the hazy smog. It could potentially work but it had the potential to backfire. Whatever he was planning on doing needed to come together fast though as with each millisecond their distance drastically decreased making time until detonation that much shorter. Forcing the diameter of his circles wider he tried to determine how he could walk out of this with minimal injuries while inflicting a greater impact to the femme. Gravity might just work to both of their favors… Slowing his pace until he stood motionless beneath the speeding bullet he braced himself letting his mind concentrate solely on his plan. Tucking his head only enough to shield his spear from direct impact as the mare finally entered his vision he sprung sideways hoping to avoid her hit. Despite his efforts a squeal rang from his throat as her hooves sliced down across the fleshy portion of his injured shoulder igniting crippling pain the spread like wildfire through what remained of his torn muscle and burnt flesh. Barely remaining on his feet after impact he somehow reacted more on instinct than conscious effort to attempt to return the painful blow. While he was unsure of how she would fair upon landing he knew this was his last chance to retaliate, his shoulder was toast (burnt toast to be more accurate) and could not handle another blow. To be honest he was not even sure it would hold his weight but regardless he was no giving up, he had nothing but his life to lose. Twisting his neck around with ivory teeth bared, and his spear sharp as ever he used the surge of adrenaline to power his last response before the pain contorted his efforts any further leaving him immobile. Rocking his weight backwards he aimed to catch the mare in the moment when she could not help but be blindsided. Transferring the load from his injured shoulder to the other that still functioned he threw his weight up into a rear flailing his front daggers dangerously not really caring what he hit in the process. Summary: Ciceron is trying to throw his weight up into Bellona to take her down while using his teeth, hooves and horn as weapons to stab/bite/kick at anything he can get a hold of. Attack: 3/3 Defense: 0/1 Ciceron talks Ciceron thinks Kiara speaks ••WORDS: 750 •• TAGS: @[Bellona] •• NOTES: -- ••

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Bellona To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins. A devilish wail lowers in pitch, contorting itself into a cackle. Does the dappled stag really think that she will let him hit her again? The Aztec has let him have his fun, but even as the force of the Earth beckons her body closer, the bird is readying herself for takeoff. The slap of hooves on flesh follows the warrior’s raucous laughter, but soon her cruel tones soften enough so that she may speak. Her powerful wings propel her words down to the stallion, and flaming orbs burn bright with amusement as the ascending woman watches him flounder in the sand. Tixtotomac. I am not down there, so why do you insist on attacking my shadow? "Fool! Did you forget that I am a tetzauhtototl?" She thrusts her wings downwards and sends the gray warrior a burst of wind as if to remind him. A taunt presses behind her firmly clamped teeth, desperate to get past, but the maiden will speak no further. Battles are to be fought with bodies, not with words. Even though this fight is coming to a close, the Chieftess decides that her opponent has faced enough tragedy for one day; she has no need to quash his spirit, as he seems to have done that himself. The maiden is not at ease just yet, and she is far too intelligent as to believe that it is safe to let her guard down. Fatigue nestles against her bloodied form as she approaches the shore, and she casts her weary gaze to the brute as she lands. Her lack of trust in the flower-laced man is no secret, and especially now that she has positioned herself a good many feet away from him. A challenge lights up her battered features at the thought of him charging her again, but the proud crest of her neck lowers with exhaustion. She does not think that either of them will be continuing with their siege. The burnt and bleeding unicorn looks as if he might be spent, but the seasoned warrior knows that this may just be another tactic of his. Appear to your opponent as if you are finished, but act as if the battle has just begun. It is a maneuver that Bellona herself has used before, yet as she studies the gray beast her lips twist into a frown. No, this one is not so smart as to do that. He would much rather drag others into his fight for him. The beauty scans the beach in search of the creature that the unicorn tried spearing her with, but all that she can find is rocks and sand. Perhaps he has found a quiet place to regain his pride. A sudden pang in her side wrenches her thoughts away from the innocent, and the battle-weary bird cranes her neck to sniff at her barrel. There is more blood there than she thought, and some of the scarlet liquid stains the white brand on her nose. The smell of rust fills her naves as she tries to detect any hint of infection, but the Aztec gives up in her self-assessment. She has never excelled at healing, and that certainly won’t change now. With a grunt, the crippled peahen shifts her legs in a stretch. Pain courses through her left side as she does this, but the maiden knows that it is necessary. A small sigh escapes her lips as tension leaves her body, and she pulls herself up from her vulnerable position to shoot a glare at the stag. Without so much as a single word, her intimidating stare seems to say, "I dare you to even think about coming closer." The vixen holds his stare for a moment longer, but it feels more like hours by the time she interrupts their silence with a snort. She is content with the bloodshed that has occurred today, and she feels no urge to spill more. The Chieftess is satisfied with her performance today and, although he has not managed to impress her, she offers the dappled warrior with her own unique congratulations. "You stabbed me." The words are as blunt as they are obvious, and she flicks her feathers in his direction as she turns to leave. It really isn't much of a comment, but it’s more than her past opponents have gotten. They've only ever felt her hooves tear into their hide. "Farewell, unicorn. Learn to fly." "Talk talk talk." {WC: 740|Attack: 3/3|Defense: 1/1 @[Ciceron] Tixtotomac -- you are a fool tetzauhtototl -- bird of ill omen; or just "bird" as used here. Great fight! That was so much fun! :D I do believe that since I made the first attack, I finish the spar, but since you made the first post you have to mark this for judging. Correct me if I'm wrong on this... But don't forget to mark this for judgement!}

BELLONA
Realism [+0.5]
:: the maiden has subconsciously placed herself directly in front of her adversary, and roughly five strides from where he waits. Use caution with statements like this, he could have easily moved since when she landed, changing their relative positions.
:: My only comment about your first attack is that I would have liked to see more consideration of where her wings would be, as she is in close range she might be concerned about they getting hit or what they are hitting.
:: She rises high enough above Ciceron so that her long legs dangle at the same height as his head, and she is careful to avoid impaling herself as she guides her body closer. Again, just use caution. You're not out-right stating what he is doing, but you're not... not stating what he is doing either.
:: She forces the strong members down and pushes off from the shore with her limber legs, stirring more sand as she takes flight. As very large creatures, I tend to think of a pegasus taking flight from a standstill as a very difficult to near-impossible task.
:: It is stupid of him to lie there in wait, and the unforgiving woman is determined to teach him a lesson. She dives for the resting gray with her feet outstretched, aiming to slam her chocolate hooves against his ashen barrel before using him to push off again. ICly, this action makes sense, but by adding this action in you are basically forcing Ciceron to go back in time in his next post to re-write what has already happened. Be careful to consider how far back in time you take your counterattacks.
:: She turns her body in a graceful dive to the right, ensuring that she is facing the stag. Same warning as before.
:: In your closing defense, even though Ciceron got a critical miss, you still need to mention his attack. I didn't see any clear mention of his attack; I took your mention of her being a few feet away as an explanation for his miss, but sometimes it is better just to clearly write those things out.


Emotion [+2]
:: Loved the imagery and introduction to Bellona's mind right from the very start, which you continued you through all of your posts. Excellent!
:: I laughed out loud at her indignation about the crab!


Prose [3]
:: Your writing was beautiful and free of any mistakes that I could see. My only comment is to remember that it is ok to use common anatomical terms- wings, hooves, etc.- instead of “wolfspeak” type words.


Readability [+2.5]
:: Regarding the use of 'members' as reference to her wings, it took me a bit the first time I read it to understand exactly what part of her body you were talking about, as I've never read that particular usage before.


Finally tally: 39.5+(8x2)= 55.5HP


CICERON
Realism [0]
:: Given Ciceron's choice of counterattack in your first post, I would have liked some mention of how he managed to avoid damage as the dice rolls had indicated none. It seems likely something would have hit with Bellona rearing up and Ciceron jumping sideways towards her hooves. That is, if he was jumping towards her hooves. You said he jumped sideways, and that confused me because I was not sure which direction you meant. I could have made arguments for either left or right to make sense.
:: I'd also have preferred note of Ciceron's thoughts about Bellona's wings. With him turning his head to try and spear her underbelly with his horn, her wings would almost definitely be beating him in the head at that point.
:: I think you took slightly too much damage in your second post. Although the roll was a 5, having Ciceron lying sideways on the ground nearly blacked out seems more like a 6/Critical Hit type of damage. Remember that if Bellona subsequently rolls a 6, you need to be able to take more damage than you did with the 5.
:: It takes mere seconds to spot her hovering frame a little ways off from where he stood Bellona never stated if she was going to remain in the air after her attack, you can't decide this for her.
:: Creative use of the scenery with grabbing the rock to throw at Bellona.
:: Bunching his muscles he surged faster alongside the mare before giving one leap forward to plant his hooves Again, you can't decide where she is. You can only -try- to run alongside of her.
:: Although Bellona went rather far back in time with her attacks in her third post, you still need to respond to that. I didn't see any sort of mention of her diving at him while he was on the ground.


Emotion [+1]
:: You let me know what Ciceron was thinking, but I didn't feel entirely drawn into his feelings in your first post. I especially would have liked more about his feelings about losing Parelia.
:: The bit about the crab was funny and made me laugh, but I would have liked more about him getting kicked in the head.
:: I think you did quite a bit better in your last post at portraying Ciceron's anger. I really began to feel like his emotions and his actions were linked, instead of two separate entities.


Prose [-1]
:: The rainbow of colours strewn over the Pegasus Just a note that in this instance (and your other uses of the word), pegasus should not be capitalized. Word will suggest you capitalize it as it is a proper pronoun if referring to the specific Greek figure; however, much like you wouldn't capitalize unicorn or equine, pegasus doesn't need to be for our purposes.
:: If this was true taking out a wing might prove to be valuable he mused silently bracing himself for impending impact as the rainbow mare unfurled her wings and reared up lashing her front legs out in a slapdash fashion. An example of a particularly long run on sentence. Don't forget you can use commas and semicolons to help break up long lines of text, as I think this sentence would have been fine if had some.
:: Reacting instinctively he drew his cranium down and in pointing his spear slightly off to the side of his target to protect the sensitive flesh over his neck and withers. And pointed his spear.
:: Examples of run-on sentences abound in your writing. It would be greatly improved with more commas and periods, or some other way to break up the blocks of text. It becomes difficult to read sometimes.
:: Flesh wounds made by inanimate objects seen to create less pain than those caused by the elements Seem to.
:: to brace himself against the winds current Wind's. And a couple similar errors in your second post.


Readability [+1.5]
:: Same comments as above, regarding the run-on sentences.


Finally tally: 36+(1.5x2)= 39HP

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Bellona earns 1VP