the Rift


[JUDGED] The Decider (Hector x Arvakl)

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#1
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights



100%

Dusty plumes lifted around pumping hooves as the liver chestnut stallion completed his second circling lap around the sandy arena. As he trotted on, Hector’s fiery-red eyes searched with growing interest the faces of those passing by, looking always for one who might seize his very obvious invitation to spar; hoping, advertising. At first there seemed to be no takers and a bothered snort displaced the small haze of flies collecting around the damp residue inside his flaring brown nostrils. Such disregard provoked his stride to lengthen and knees to lift, silken copper hair snapping as his long bony tail flicked sharply left and right behind.

The sun was warm, but not with the same intensity it held over his desert homeland (not even as scorching as the Tallsuns past), though the rust-red stallion bore thick dampening sweat from the sky-race not long ago lost.

Finally his show attracted the notice of a flamingo feathered female with deer-antler set amidst a black and pink forelock. She was interesting to behold, to say the least. A light chuckle rumbled through his chest (amused but not disrespectful), as she pranced from the village path towards him with green eyes seeming to glint mischief in the brightness of the day. Her sassy tongue, as it began to speak, provoked his dry lips to smile.

Hector was intrigued, naturally, and arched his brawny crest a little higher to show off without pausing for a moment. It seemed that his reservations were quickly overwhelmed by the attractive hybrid’s arrival. Flaccid, shining threads of mane flapped to the flamboyant rhythm of his stride. "You will do as well as any..." he teased humorously, taking the moment to examine her physique through the narrowing eye nearest. She was a lovely creature, albeit coloured like a cherry blossom with the branches still attached, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the wily feminine grace she portrayed; the attitude mirrored in the swagger of her hips.

He turned towards her seconds later, still absorbing eagerly her form with experienced, steady eyes. Aside from his towering height, Hector thought them to be similar in build; the mare perhaps, would be more nimble across toes bearing considerably less weight. Vast and variable lineage had gifted him with fluid grace and manoeuvrability though, and an effortlessly proud carriage portrayed this well. He had honed such limberness through many years of training- using it now artfully to his advantage. The warrior's careful focus zeroed in on the rack of horns beneath her ears then, an obstacle to avoid in this new competition. How quickly can you swing them? he pondered in silence, toying strategically with the concept of a move. They looked large and cumbersome, unlike his which were neat and sharp.

Powerful haunches coiled without warning and wings unfurled to lift beyond her reach, to balance him through the attack to follow. Hector focused left craftily as he aimed potentially for her front. He careered right abruptly however, to slide with luck, around parallel to his opponent’s left side, dodging the weapons wielded by her face if he could. His neck arched brilliantly as large sound hooves sliced through supple dry sand, but it rolled readily as flashing-lashing teeth drew alongside where he presumed her flank to still be- the flimsy last ribs there, their primary target. To him it mattered little if her wing remained to shield them; unquestionably a mouth full of feathers would be worth his while.

It was a small attack to start with, but it had the potential to do damage. The copper giant wanted to test her initially, to find her strengths and weaknesses; to figure out the level of her martial competence. Hector wanted to know how threatening that flashy set of antlers really was...



Continued from here...

Setting: Sand arena on Sky Island; bright, clear weather during early afternoon.
No magic/Companions/Buffs

630/800
1/4

Rolling


• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times

Arvakl Posts: 66
Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 4 (Tallsun) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Lauren
#2
Arvakl
The sun beats down, illuminating our hides, bringing out the copper in the beast and the pink in my ebony mane and tail. The sand in the arena kicks up under our hooves, sprinkling against the backs of our legs as we move in time. If others are around to watch, I'm unaware. I see my target, and I know what approaches. It is my first skirmish here in Helovia, and I relish the opportunity to show what I'm made of. This brute has done nothing to me, and yet, just being in my way when I'm in a piss poor mood makes him my prey. I feel my saliva start to thicken as I imagine the taste of his blood, his flesh. It slips down my slips, darkening the hairs on my chin.

"You will do as well as any..." Does he think I don't hear him? C'mon sweetie give me the best you got. I will do better than any, asshole. Do you think I'm afraid of you? I don't care if you tower over me, if you're built like a tank. Your fiery wings don't frighten me and your bony horns are like a kitten's baby teeth. I am fierce and vicious, and my antlers are sharper than they look. None of these words pass my mouth, but if he bothers to look closely, he might see the challenge in my eyes.

His body comes closer, muscles rippling under that bronze pelt. My own muscles tense and I feel a heat that's traveling... there... Maybe after this we can get it on. He's a fine specimen and I've love to add him to a list of Helovian conquers. I cock my head to the side, eyeing him carefully, my tail swishing back and forth in the still air, creating a breeze to cool the rising heat in my blood. I raise my wings as well, mimicking him. Mimicry is a sign of attraction, don't you know? My arousal distracts me, however, and before I know it his large wings are out, his body lunging... past mine. I didn't see that coming. I firmly expected a full frontal attack, and I give him brownie points for this moment of deception. His musk as he passes by enters my nostrils and I breathe in deeply. Oh yes, I want this one. Draw MY blood if that's what it takes, handsome, but we need to take this to the next level, and now.

His ivories, as white as his irises are red (oh, mmm, how lovely....), lash out, snapping at me. Oh baby, bite me, bite me hard! They scrape over my flesh at the top of my flank, tearing off the top layer of dermis as they go. It's just a flesh wound, a laceration, and will sting as long as fresh air gets to it. I squeal, making sure he knows that it hurts. And what's more.. I LIKE IT. I know he's got more in him than that, there has to be. He can do so much more, this is just a test. My tail swishes back and forth, swirling as I get feistier and my heart beats faster. His teeth leave my flesh as he carries on past me.

Though the small patch on my left flank stings, I know it won't hinder me much except to provide a tender spot. And now, he is just where I want him. I hope he is as tough as he looks, because I'm not going to go easy, and I want him to still be in one piece when we are done. My hindquarters bunch, muscles tightening as I prepare to attack the handsome hybrid. And then my rump is in the air, ebony hooves flying at the retreating brute, aiming to slash whatever part is within reach, be it barrel, leg, or flank. Another squeal leaves my lips, pleasure mixed with pain. I'm enjoying myself, Unnamed Sir, and I really don't want this to stop. Come, come again.

671 words
1/3
Laceration on top left of flank from teeth.
Hind kick at Hector's retreating form.


I'm so FANCY
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*You may do anything you wish with Arvakl excluding dismemberment and death.

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#3
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights


Perhaps Hector had not set his mind to the task so assiduously in recent times. Maybe that was why doubt had been so prevalent within him for so long now, reinforcing his longing to step down and start along a new path, corroding confidence and installing new conflict so that he knew not whether he was hither or thither. As adrenaline coursed like tonic through his bloodstream, the copper soldier felt the old thrill of battle reignite. Hot rushing excitement tickled the nerves beneath his skin, and legs tingled beneath the impact of weight thrown to maim another- though that was not really his intention on this occasion. His long tail snapped delightedly as the reek of her hot, feminine odour flooded flared, gasping nostrils, and observant tawny eyes sparkled, seizing eagerly the challenge she posed.

The mood of Sky Island was lost and forgotten as the throb of his quickening pulse intensified through reclined ears, drowning out the sounds and movements of those nearby. He and the flowery stranger seemed to be building their own exclusive atmosphere, an enticing rivalry that appeared only to inflate the closer they came together. She was no Morana though- the epitome of allurement; a weakness one so naturally reserved had not expected in his life at all.

Beneath a cloak of bronzing, heartening sunlight, Hector slipped by her left shoulder as intended, teeth grinding only briefly across the top part of her flank. He found no pleasure in the sensation of tearing flesh, no satisfaction in the tart clammy flavour the bite discovered, and released her quickly. This was not war. The sound of her pain (real or fantasy) drew his red cupped ears around instantly. For a second he thought to pause and check her; to assess the damage he had inflicted, but the skilled beast new better. His strong, lion-like tail veered left towards her, then again sharply right, whipping silky tendrils near where he supposed her face to be. With any luck they would irritate her pretty green eyes, sting, or stun her vision.

The stallion had not fled her side after the bite- he was not prepared to give any attacks intended by her, the ability to gather momentum. He imagined he could feel the radiating warmth of her as his shoulder pressed close. Still the novelty of her aroma filled each drawn breath and it was exciting, exhilarating; motivating and inspiring. Her hindquarters bunched and the weight of her seemed to lurch forward beside him. Hector moved instinctively before the rising curve of her rump. Already his weight was somewhat propped across his haunches after slowing considerably to focus his previous assault, and so he lifted not quite in unison with her, as though they were fresh practice-partners, dancing. Lengthening hind legs pushed him forward, and partly up all at once.

He was a far larger animal, longer, and as her kick evolved, the soldier’s left foreleg was probably reaching well past her tail; perched, curling as with her form, while his attention narrowed in on the next move above. His left shoulder was trying to lead his barrel into an intimate, graceless hug around her rear; shoulder sliding by thigh, then buttock, and his neck twisted above to allow bared teeth access again, potentially, to tight, mottled-champagne hide- this time in the region of her backside .

Presumably, without his body being directly in the impact zone behind the mare (he should have been slightly off centre after all and just over the top) her continuing kick might have been able to extend fully. Hector’s forward motion meant that he could not hold his position above her for long and his fore-quarters slid forward, down, into the thrust of her limbs. One of her flying hooves (he could not tell which), struck the lower half of his as it flailed the furthest away, and the sharp, unforgiving rim of it grazed the cannon bone as he descended. The copper hybrid winced and snorted harshly as the nerves and tendon beneath skin were knocked, stinging viciously, and he stumbled forward through the thick sand on the floor as pins and needles obscured sensation.

Again she squealed, and Hector’s arching crest shook ostentatiously in response.



706/800
Attack 2/3
Defence 0/1

(Notes:
Sorry about the confusion in post 1 with which attack/post he was up to. I hope this is easier to read.
Also, in the first post I used the verb careered.



• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times

Arvakl Posts: 66
Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 4 (Tallsun) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Lauren
#4
Arvakl
Legs flying, blood boiling, I can only hope that my flints will catch his pretty flesh. I don't even really know what I want from this scuffle - to wound him, to be wounded myself, to get laid when it is all over? My desires obscured even to me. My feminine scent filling the air, mixing with his masculine musk. Entwining in the air, the new scent is heady and seems to dilute my ability to think straight. I wonder somewhere in my mind if he feels the same way. Clearly, though, neither of us have forgotten the purpose of why we are here, our natural given weapons bared and armed. All of my senses are focused exclusively on the coppery, fiery hybrid, unaware of any that are watching, passing by. Sky Island has faded into nothingness except the ground beneath our pounding hooves.

My hind legs in the air, my head down in front of me, I don't see what is going on. My emerald eyes don't see him rise up to avoid my hooves, or his crown coming down toward my flesh, teeth bared. His teeth meet my flesh and scrape along the top of my oh-so-fine ass, once again tearing my flesh. Blood trickles this time, the wound deeper than the first his teeth left. I wonder if blood staining my champagne hide will make me more or less attractive. Does he like the taste? Does he want more? I groan as my nerve endings shoot message of pain from the wound to my brain. I shake my head, my ears flapping against my head and my feather earring softly swinging against my cheek.

No pain no gain, right? And I still have pain to give; no beast who plays from the ground can keep up an airborne evasion forever. By silent agreement we have stayed on the ground thus far, and though the stallion has risen above my attack, I gather that he is returning to earth by what happens next. My hooves make contact against his forelegs, clacking against his lower legs. It's not what I had originally intended, but any attack is satisfying to me. My hooves return to the ground after inflicting damage, and I stay active and engaged, moving forward away from the beast. Almost immediately I spin around and size up my opponent. He's bigger than I, more built, but perhaps I am faster? We are both adorned with wings and horns; who truly has the advantage here? Is he a battle-tested champion, or is his appearance all bark and no bite? He's two for two on tearing flesh from bone, so perhaps he knows at least a little about this fighting thing. Now, what do I know?

I know that this no-wings thing is over. My body turns to face him and evaluate the distance between us. It seems he hasn't gone too far, and I will be able to reach him without too much difficulty. My wings spread out, a brilliant, vibrant magenta under the sun's rays. My haunches propel me forward, and my wings flap once to assist my movement. My nostrils are flared and eyes wide, my senses narrowing and focusing on my second attack. Again I rise up in the air, but this time it is my forelegs that strike out at his form. I pump my wings, hoping to stir up the sand and dust beneath us, to use it as a weapon and perhaps blind my opponent. Hooves fly through the air, aiming for whatever the stallion is foolish enough to leave within my reach, be it hindquarters, barrel, or head. If he stays facing away from me, perhaps I can cut or bruise his flank. If he turns, maybe I can knock the beast about the head a little. A breeze picks up, cooling for a moment my sweat-covered form, and I hope it will pick the sand up and toss it at my opponent as well. I may not be battle-tested, but maybe I can throw a punch or two as well!

671 words
2/3
Bite draws blood on her rump. As she moves away from Hector, she spins and jumps after him. Tries to kick with forefeet and use wings to stir dust and sand toward his face to blind him.


I'm so FANCY
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*You may do anything you wish with Arvakl excluding dismemberment and death.

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#5
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights



100%

Hector was sweating profusely. The body he brandished was large, wrought with thick sinew that rippled beneath the gloss of his sodden red coat. His bold form was fashioned with old Spanish blood renowned for elegance, athleticism and power; the more subtle Thoroughbred influence allowed him a slimmer, lighter weight skull to wield ivory weapons in war, and capacity to cover smaller distances at a great rate of speed. As the early afternoon sun beat down upon the arena, the giant knew his meagre stamina was flagging. He was blessed with many warrior-worthy attributes, but alas, a mortal was never invincible; he knew his weaknesses.

The chestnut’s left front hoof sank again beneath the bed of sand, and the sloping shoulder above slid clear of her hot body. Lunging incisors had discovered the skin taught across the mare’s rump just as planned, though the unpredictability of their two moving bodies had caused his grip to fasten a little more convincingly than expected; brief, but with nasty consequence. The sour taste of blood was something he was all too familiar with, but as it leaked into the saliva across his tongue, it gave no pleasure. Each of Hector’s assaults thus far had been designed thoughtfully for the purpose of this spar alone, and a faint twinge of remorse glinted through sun-kissed eyes.

Ears lifted from their bed of twirling mane, and his right fore-knee stiffened so that the hoof corresponding might fall back to earth with the same precision as its brother. It was not meant to be however... The seemingly slight graze endured by her bucking attack had injured the nerves above bone and the numbness, the wretched pins and needles, only became obvious as his bulk fell upon it. Hector stumbled clumsily forward across a buckling knee, and his tangerine eyes flung wildly to the sky. Not fool enough to linger so near to the ground mid-fight, the hybrid stallion’s enormous wings beat to lift him and he staggered to right himself as the feeling began at last to return.

Unfortunately, while distracted entirely by the effect of his injury, the warrior’s normally heedful eyes had failed to find the next motion of his opponent. Hector stood barely feet from where he had landed, left side exposed entirely as his wings dithered at half mast above. Clever girl... he awarded her silently, stunned by his own foolish lack of focus. Surely if this was the battlefront, and she the ruthless enemy, he would be in trouble. There was a very snide sneer from the sideline. Veci had arrived back from the task he had been set none too impressed that his bonded had committed to the spar alone. The stallion had no time to pander to the ego of his friend however- the mare was barrelling forward towards him.

The familiar swoosh of feathers splitting air drew copper ears and eyes to match around hastily. The stallion hesitated; weight set back across coiling haunches, startled no doubt by the imminent, dazzling fuchsia wingspan off his left side. She certainly looked formidable as she came; a confusion of colour, churning limbs, and rocking antlers; flared nostrils and gleaming green eyes almost as wide. Hector could bring only his front to swing in time as she rose in front of him like a mishmash cyclone of impending doom... and he braced.

With her came a flurrying wall of dust and sand, enough to force his face right defensively. Irritated eyes burned as granules gathered beneath blinking lids and fluttering lashes, and there was a blur of movement to his front as the mare’s plunging forelegs drove hooves down to strike with full force the curve of his bent neck. Clenched thighs cushioned much of the impact, so instead of toppling backwards, Hector was forced right, writhing, following the path set by his skull. The pain was immense and lingered even as he drew away from her; bruising that would undoubtedly penetrate deeply the muscle layered along its length. Perhaps the truth of this battering would climax through the days to follow as swelling only doubled to amplify his agony.

For now though adrenaline helped to lessen the ache (if only slightly), and his warm well stretched muscles masked the reality of the damage from his arcing brain. That was not to say he danced away obliviously... Hector’s breathless, harried groan stretched well clear of their battle-dome, and his neck fought bitterly as he strained to straighten it. Surrendering to the reluctance of his burning crest, the stallion swung instead his hindquarters towards her, smoothing his spine while at the same time throwing a hefty buck into the air behind him.



779/800
Attack 3/3
Defence 0/1


• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times

Arvakl Posts: 66
Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 4 (Tallsun) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Lauren
#6
Arvakl
With teeth marks over my back and over my rump, I'm surprised that I'm not in more pain. I think that perhaps this fire-kissed beast may be taking it easy on me. But hey - who can blame him? I wouldn't want to damage the goods either. The blood that has risen to the surface on my rump from his teeth mixes with the sweat that coats my sleek form, and the two mix to color a patch of me a strange pink color. I giggle, a sound that pierces the air of battle like a knife. No sane being would giggle in the middle of a spar, but did I really ever say that I am a sane being? This not-so-sane girl wants a little bright red stallion tush when all is said and done.

But only if I can season him with the coppery taste of his blood - or even mine if I smear it on him. And as my hooves fly toward his muscular body that is what I hope to do. He's turned now so that his left side is exposed to me, his wings partially up with potential to protect himself. Potential. A sly grin appears on my puckers as my legs extend, sending my hooves his way. He turns toward me, but he's not fast enough to avoid my blow. To my great pleasure, my plan to manipulate the granular ground succeeds and he turns his head away from me, trying his best to keep from being blinded. (Would we not all have that goal?) But as he does so, his neck is just the perfect piece of flesh to dig into. My hooves slam against his curved nape and batter it, forcing him away from me and to his right. I land there on the ground where he once was, and my wings beat to soften my forelegs' landing on the ground.

As he steps away, I hear him groan, and I think for a second that perhaps I have managed a victory. Does he give up? Do I win? ...is that what he'll sound like when we.. you get the idea. But he's not done with me, not yet. My grin twitches on my lips, as I'm unsure whether to be happy or unnerved that there are hooves flying at me. Most would be unnerved or upset - no one really likes to be in danger. But at the same time, I wonder what a new cut or scar on my face or chest would look like. I turn my face away in time, but the rest of my body is slow to move away from his hooves. He makes contact with the left side of my neck, and the edge of one of his hooves slices open the skin, leaving a jagged edged gash along my once immaculate skin. Not even the corners of my mouth show any remnants of the smile that sat there so perfectly. The gash sears as grime gets inside the cut, and my blood transfers to decorate the stallion's hoof. I squeal with pain and pin my ears against my skull, eyes narrowing. Of course, I'm not denying that I like a little sadomasochism in my life, but I can't help but want a little revenge on the handsome man.

I try to stomach the pain and move forward, telling myself that I can bitch about my newest wound when this is said and done. I can't give in to it yet, no matter how much it hurts. I lunge forward to catch his falling rump before he can move away - or at least, I hope I can get there before he moves away. He's more agile than I expected, but perhaps I can be quick like a snake. My jaw opens, teeth grasping for the flesh on his defined hindquarters. I hope maybe I can give him a nice grab, some blood and skin? At least a pinch! Just a love bite, sweetie.. It's just a love bite!

671 words
3/3
Takes his hooves to her neck as well, leaves a gash on her neck (critical hit). Waits a second for Hector's hindquarters to land and lunges forward to bite his rump.

I'm so FANCY
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*You may do anything you wish with Arvakl excluding dismemberment and death.

Hector Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 18.3hh :: 7 Years HP: 63 | Buff: ENDURE
Veci :: Plain Boggart :: Suffocate Dream
#7
No Time for Lies and Empty Fights


The copper giant was succumbing quickly to the onslaught of weariness. Although he was a creature primed for war, body ripe with maturity, experience, all clad in glossy confidence, Hector relied largely on swift, deciding impact. He had not the endurance for long, drawn out clashes and the fluctuating exertion of energy necessary for their victory (not to mention the contributing lack of practice in recent times); and as the flashy hybrid mare behind him squealed her pain, relief flushed instantly through his strained features.

The grit trapped beneath fastened lashes rubbed painfully against rolling, water-slick eyeballs, and each time he dared open them, more sand seeped away in saline channels from the enflamed corners of his eyes. His vision was slowly clearing, and the hazy, speckled glaze across them began to lessen. At the same time, as Hector’s airborne, assailing hocks swung to align his spine more naturally with his neck, vertebrae beneath the pained arch of his crest clunked angrily. The taught muscles battered through his attempted evasion of the sand loosened, and the copper stallion groaned as the true effect of her knock stung, burned beneath the force of his bold repositioning.

Thrust hind-hooves felt the impact of their strike against brawn- Hector could not tell right away what part of her exactly had been found during the vengeful buck, but the sound of her protest assured him that it was a sound connection nonetheless. So too did he remain completely oblivious to the rising grin which had so very visibly cloaked her haughty lips; only to be wiped clean from her expression almost as suddenly.

As his hindquarters fell back to their natural posture, the stallion’s powerful shoulders lunged to pull his heavy bulk forward so as not to allow her the same advantage as before; not again...

She was following it seemed however, tolerating the weeping wound he had dealt with more pluck than most other females he knew, and Hector was given little time to escape the lash of beared teeth; crest snaking out beneath a flurry of dark mane to scold him. Already stiffening as lactic acid leaked throughout, his trampled neck could not turn enough for him to find her with both bleary eyes in time. Hector could hardly evade the swift-footed, vicious hybrid, and before he knew it, his retreating rump bore a sliver of her affection; a stinging bruise placed by the graze of her unforgiving teeth.

Again his displeasure pierced the air surrounding; a sharp snort in place of the scream building to burst from his pumping lungs. Hector would not show his opponent weakness however, he forced composure to gloss across the flare of irritation- and he knew anyway, thank the Sun, that this fight had come to an end. Bruised and considerably (unexpectedly) battered, Hector loped awkwardly from the churned mess of sand across which they had fought, and turned, flanks heaving to betray his exertion. "You don’t fight like a woman..." he complimented, with a smile harassed still by deep gasps for lost air. Finally he could see the blood staining her neck. But you are no stallion, he thought all the same.



529/800
Attack 3/3
Defence 1/1

(ooc: Wow Silk, good spar! I really love Arvakl’s spunk hahaha)


• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#8
By my verdict: HECTOR is the winner!

HECTOR
Realism [+3.5]
:: For your third post, I think to facilitate taking some damage from the 5 that Arvakl rolled you tried to go back and apply it to Hector landing and tweaking his leg. Since he had already basically landed at the end of your second post, I would have preferred the damage came from a time period after that, though it wasn’t necessarily wrong.
:: I liked your response to the billowing sand in post 3 and the follow up to it in your closing defense.


Emotion [+1.5]
:: You did a good job setting up Hector’s steady, warrior-minded personality in the first post; I felt like the observations were very organic.
:: Your posts 2 and 3 became a little more battle-minded, which is understandable, but I would have liked to see a little more of Hector’s personality shine through.


Prose [+4]
:: The taught muscles battered through his attempted evasion of the sand loosened, Taut. This was in your defense, so I can’t take points off for it, but I just wanted to point it out.
:: It was clear that you spent a good amount of time editing your posts- they were well written and I didn’t catch any obvious mistakes.


Readability [+2]
:: You write beautifully, but I’ve noticed in both post 1 and 2 that the descriptions of the attacks were sometimes difficult to follow and I would have to go back and read a couple times until I could figure out exactly what was going on. I typically had a general idea, but needed to really stop and consider to understand more thoroughly where everyone was in space.


Finally tally: 45 + (11*2) = 67 HP

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

ARVAKL
Realism [+2]
:: I think you could have taken slightly more damage in the first post. Not much, but I think the damage you took would have been more appropriate for a 2, instead of the 3 that was rolled.
:: You definitely needed to take more damage in the second post. With Hector rolling a 6, there should have been some very severe damage. All I noticed was the mild damage from Hector’s second bite.
:: My body turns to face him and evaluate the distance between us. It seems he hasn't gone too far, and I will be able to reach him without too much difficulty. You can’t say for certain where he has gone. ‘Attempt’ to face him and Hector never said how far he went in his post.
:: Good use of terrain! I liked Arvakl’s strategy to try and blow the sand off the ground.
:: Again, in post 3, you needed to take way more damage. It was a critical hit- a cut to the neck definitely isn’t severe enough to reflect how much damage she should have taken. Remember that you don’t just have to take damage from your opponent’s actions. You can injure yourself by moving too quickly, stepping on something, running into something, etc.


Emotion [+1.5]
:: The first post served to set up Arvakl’s personality rather well.
:: You continued the emotion throughout, though I would have liked to see more reasoning for why she was fighting. I got it a little bit, but there can always be more!


Prose [+3.5]
:: It slips down my slips, darkening the hairs on my chin. Lips
:: I groan as my nerve endings shoot message of pain from the wound to my brain. A message


Readability [+3]
:: Everything was well written and easy to read.


Finally tally: 26 + (10*2) = 46HP


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