the Rift


[JUDGED] I Swear to Drunk Officer, I'm Not God! {Rostislav}

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#1
Bellona
To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins.


The floating island is no longer so foreign to the bird that patrols it, but what it is that she is looking for is a subject well-suited to that title. Stained wings slice lazily through the air as flaming orbs survey the unnatural isle just as dully. It is almost as if the beauty is waiting for something exciting to happen, for something among the quiet groves of trees to stir. Not even those who mill about the sandy arena appear to be upset with this lack of excitement. It is true that are some of those gathered here are too soaked in sweat -- or even just too busy with the task at hand -- to care. All that is matters is that it is bothering her, and she needs to do something about that. Planting her dark hooves in the sand below her seems like a good idea for now.

She sweeps her gaze across the ring as she lands, making certain to take in the sights and sounds of the warring bodies around her. Their stench is perhaps more noticeable to the Chieftess as she scans the crowd, but it does not deter her from finding an opponent; if anything, it helps. The maiden's thought turn dark as she moves towards the strongest source of the smell. So the drunk has come to practice, has he? I wonder if there is anything in that bottle that might actually help him improve.

A foreign thought creeps into her mind, one of the jewelled warrior teaching this brute a lesson. It is one that she has considered in her solitude, but never when the pup was near. Just as the sky releases a light shower of rain, a blue ear cocks back to the boy to show her appreciation. Perhaps you are not so useless, mictla. But I cannot allow you to join in this fight. Jump down from my wither, and run to the edge. There is slight hesitation in the rougarou's movements, but a swift thrash of her wings sends him tumbling to the ground. I told you to go. Now listen!

The flames behind her eyes ignite as they watch his spotted form leave, unimpressed with his disobedience. Yet even so, the rainbow warrior trusts the hyena enough to get himself to safety. You may watch me, mictla, so that you may learn. Do not take my refusal so harshly. You will have your turn one day. Redirecting her blazing pits to the unicorn's stout form, the peahen calls out to him, "I see you have no partner. I can fix that." She calculates the distance between them as they stand -- which is roughly six of her strides -- and emits a bloodcurdling scream as she sets off at a gallop. Should the drunkard be feeling a little tipsy today -- and should the bird be lucky -- the bearded man will hopefully be standing relatively close to where she first spotted him. A wicked smile erupts on her maw at the thought of the Legatus still standing there. Swaying, more like it.

The charging warrior doubts that this will be the case, however, and so in an attempt to gain any sort of an advantage over him she reaches towards him with her wings. Aiming to either blind the brute or smack him upside her head, the flailing bird advances on him with her hindquarters preparing for take-off. Flight is not her goal in such a maneuver, however, so instead of departing from the sand entirely she lifts only her front-most hooves. Barred legs aim to strike against a spotted chest or broad shoulder while wide eyes search for the next available target. Perhaps the prospect of battle has excited the bird past her own control, but the ferocious vixen has dealt with this fervor before. Even as her body shifts to set itself up for a second attack her mind is committed to the current one. Do not get ahead of yourself. Your haste will only bring your downfall.

The comment is meant mostly for herself, but the information reaches the pouting cub as well. Rounded ears flick skywards as they receive the beauty’s advice, and a gangly body spins around to witness her charge. His interest in the big equine’s battle is put to shame by his concern for the peahen, and a low whimper sounds from his spotted gullet. The warring vixen picks up on his anxiety, and she responds to the boy with annoyance. That is no way to act when at war with another. Worry less for me and more for this idiot! It his blood that will be shed today!

Even so, and amidst all the rain, the timid boy stills sends her a burst of encouragement.

"Talk talk talk."

{WC: 800|Attack: 1/3|Defense: 0/1

In the sandy ring in the center. It's raining! Regular time limit, please. Three posts each. Thanks Silk!}


Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#2

Finally! Finally I have recovered from my numerous injuries. I'm back in fighting form, ready to take on the world. More or less. My shoulders are better, my chest - oh my poor chest - has healed well. My ear still looks a little rough from Elsa and I've got a few more scars to show. I'm feeling better than ever and not drinking quite as heavily - I don't need to mask the pain as I did before. But of course, always a bit tipsy! And apparently tipsy enough that I didn't notice walking into the arena-like area on this island and having a seat on my ass like it's nobody's business, as if ASKING to get punched in the face again. And yet, isn't that what I'm asking for? Certainly if you get wailed on enough times you eventually get to start dishing it out. At least, that's my current philosophy; it's the only way I can make myself get back up and get ready to take and deal punches all over again.

Sitting on my ass is not how I wanted to be found by the Peahen. I scramble to my feet as she calls to me, and Damaris - who had previously been enjoying herself romping nearby - comes to my side as she feels my energy rise. She looks at the Peahen and rougarou next to her. 'Enemies?' She asks me and I blink a few times. This.. ability to speak.. is still very new to me, and it still surprises me to hear her feminine voice in my mind. I shake my head and speak back to her. 'No, love. Herd, but not friends.' It's true. No one ever said that herd members all had to like each other. I return my gaze to Bellona and see that her companion is sitting out, too young to participate. I think to tell Damaris that she should sit out, too, but she threatens to nip my ankles if I dare to do so. Reluctantly, I oblige her wishes. A crack in the sky, and a flash, and then the rain begins to fall. I sigh - who wants to spar in the rain? Actually, I'm not sure I mind. The rain helps cool my easily-overheated body, and perhaps my sturdiness gives me an advantage in the footing that grows slicker beneath our hooves.

Of course, before I can even respond to Bellona's rhetorical question, she's screaming like a madwoman and charging me. What is it with crazy pegasi charging me?! First that anti-unicorn boy and now Bellona. Damaris bares her teeth and raises her hackles, growling loudly at the Peahen, and I try to brace myself for the attack. As her wings fling forward and her front hooves rise up, I mimic her movement, and rear in time with her. I hope that maybe I can block her attack with my shins, but I fail to take into account her wings that fly toward me with powerful thrusts. One makes contact with my head, knocking me off balance to my right, and her hooves hit my shoulder, shoving me farther away from her. I grunt with the force of it and the pain that shakes through my shoulder. Well thank god all that shit has healed before this spar! I land less painfully than I imagined, on all four feet in softening ground.

Without hesitation, I turn on the fore, spinning away from Bellona. I bunch my hindquarters and let loose a flying kick, hoping to get the rainbow one on the chest or neck as she lands. 'GO!' In my mind I scream at my hellhound. Damaris dashes from her position and runs teeth bared at Bellona's back legs, hoping to grab the left one with her teeth and let her acidic saliva spill all over her opponent. 'Be careful!' I stress to her. Worry starts to fill me, but she sends encouragement and confidence back to me, banishing concern from my mind. Well.. okay! Let's kick this strutting Peahen's ass!

1/3
WC: 670
Tag: @[Bellona]
**Nyte got my permission to powerplay in her first post. :)


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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*You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#3
Bellona
To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins.


A satisfied smirk graces the peahen’s maw when she sends the brute sprawling away from her. See, little one? This is how you must fight. Her triumph drowns out the enthusiasm that the cub sends through their bond, and his silent encouragement is ignored. A slight frown causes his lip to tremble, but the movement ceases when he notices the pretty lady starting to show off.

A decorated wither lifts its feathers, displaying the peahen’s pleasure at landing the first hit. Cold droplets of water dampen the sand beneath her falling feet, providing an excellent surface for her hooves to gain purchase on -- although they do not make it there unscathed. The brute’s wide hooves collide against the forearm of each of her striped legs, running down the length of them as the two beasts descend. Her pillars burn where his dark weapons have touched them, but fortunately for the Chieftess the pain ends above her knees. It is a small victory to know that her joints are unharmed from such an assault, and although her legs still ache from the impact the hybrid is thankful nonetheless. What’s more is that her hurts have drawn attention to their differing heights, and the cunning maiden makes sure that she will remember this for later.

The warrior’s mood darkens as the sky does the same, and the enraged vixen moves to act before the weather does. Just as she plants her hooves in preparation of another rear, a wave of shock rolls through her, causing her to shy away from the sheer force of it. At first the bird is uncertain of where the emotion came from, but she pinpoints the source of it almost immediately afterwards. The link shared between the hybrid and rougarou may still be foreign to both of them, but the shying beauty knows the difference between her emotions and his.

Her eyes are upon the stocky unicorn, but her thoughts are anywhere but. What are you doing? Stop distracting me! Her mind lashes out at her bonded’s, scolding him with a few firm words as her mouth parts in a warning. The whining cub tries to justify his sudden burst of emotion, but when he can see that it is only angering the bird further, he shoves the image of an approaching dog into her skull. The projection of such a thing astounds both of the creatures, sending the boy into a flurry of change as his body struggles to control its identity. Bellona reacts to this discovery more smoothly, and even goes as far as to praise him for it. You saved me from a nasty bite. And in truth, the newly-forming chick had. By jerking her body to the side in response to his outburst, the bird has unknowingly pulled herself out of the slobbering hound’s range. She doesn’t even snap at him to never do it again. Despite what may be expected of her in such an invasive situation, she actually encourages it. Thank you.

Despite this emotional breakthrough, however, the bird has more pressing matters to attend to. Time to make this fucker pay. In recompense for the wound it so generously tried to give her, the Aztec sweeps her vindictive gaze across the arena. Searching through the rain for a certain green-maned bitch, the beauty spots her lithe target and immediately charges towards it. Ever mindful of the beast’s sharp teeth – what drips off of them she has no idea – the speeding vixen wastes no time in picking a limb to kick it with. Instead of giving the dog a chance to latch onto just one of her towering pillars, she chooses to run over the hellhound with all four. Hopefully one of her blunt weapons will actually manage to hit her, although of course the bird has to catch up to her first.


"Talk talk talk."

{WC: 643|Attack: 2/3|Defense: 0/1}


Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#4

I feel my hind hooves make contact with the Peahen's shins, scraping down them. In my mind I imagine it like scraping nails down a chalkboard, but when it comes to flesh and bone, I imagine there is much less squeaking. Not to mention less audible pain and more pain in the skin and muscle. As I land, I hear mud squelch beneath my hooves, and it is with difficulty that I'm able to pull myself from the spot. As I turn, I see Damaris miss her own attack. I feel my chest tighten as I watch her nervously. The snapping jaws are certainly to be feared, but they latch onto nothing.

The Peahen doesn't appear too pleased with the hellhound and to my horror, instead of coming after me, she goes after the dark pup. Bellona runs at the pup, intending to trample her. I cry out in my panic. "Damaris!" The pup hears me and looks up in time to see the charging Peahen. She dodges out of the way, yelping in a moment of panic, not weighted down by the mud as we larger beings are. I snarl at the mare, feeling outraged that she would direct her rage toward my companion. I'm thankful that neither of us are hurt, but psychologically, that bitch has now struck quite a blow. Herd mates or no, Bellona is officially on my bad side. Of course, I should have expected her to retaliate against a smaller, easier target. After all, Damaris attacked first. But that doesn't change even the slightest bit of my feelings.

I bellow in rage, my lobes pinned against my thick skull. My nostrils flare as I snort and charge the colorful mare. My bellowing makes my attack no secret, and I'm sure the Falls spy will have ample time to prepare a defense. I lower my head, my sharp, rough horns and spikes pointed at where Bellona stood last I looked. I canter toward her, hoping to jab her in the side and leave a few punched holes in that pretty hide. The mud beneath us flies up, hitting my belly and my legs, but no one can really tell because I'm sort of a muddy colored fellow already - exempting reddish hues and the rabicano.

Damaris jumps out of the way of any flying hooves, whining at first then growling at the Peahen. Her glowing eyes narrow and she barks loudly, trying to distract the mare from my attack. 'Careful.' She tries to tell me, but I am single-minded. Punch the colorful one with my horns, hopefully in her fleshy belly. No one attacks my beloved!

2/3
WC: 440
Tag: @[Bellona]
Had less to write about with a miss!


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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*You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#5
Bellona
To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins.


She charges after the mutt like a bat out of hell, bearing down on the bitch with enough ferocity to make any onlooker believe that she yearns to spill her blood across the sand. To any sane creature this notion may just be hyperbole, but in the hearts and minds of the fearsome bird and her fearful companion, it is as real as the rain pouring down on them. You come after me, tzitzimitl, you’d better know I’ll be after you.

The boy is unable to keep his emotions in check as he watches the peahen dive for the dame, although he makes an effort to transmit his anxiety through his shifting form instead of through the bond so as not to surprise her again. He will always do his best for her, even after every scolding she has delivered or every punishment she has dealt. She is far too important to him to risk putting her in harm’s way. If it were possible for the chick to project words as well as feelings, he would tell the warring vixen that he loved her. He would utter those three tender words to match her stream of curses each and every time. I love you.

His chocolate stare – the only part of him that is as permanent as his love – trails after the beautiful warrior like a hen gets after her chicks. A salt-and-pepper mess of molting feathers and growing hair flinches at the sight of the dog evading her charge. The boy shouts out to the peahen as she dives in pursuit of her target, but she cannot hear him. Her hooves find no mercy in the shifting sand as she fights for purchase in the damp arena, and her legs slip out from under her. A sapphire head collides into the ground at the same time that a green ass does, transmitting a powerful jolt from one throbbing end to the other. Tixtotomac.

The boy’s change could not have occurred at a worse time, for his transformation has rendered him unable to warn the Chieftess with his morphing vocal cords. The distress that he sends through their psychic link does manage to reach her, however, but all it does is cause the maiden to wrench her head back to watch the stag as he barrels towards her. His horns are lowered as if to stab her, but unless he readjusts their position to compensate for her fallen figure, it is only his hooves that pierce her colored hide. The downed vixen gasps as each weapon slams against her, wincing from each flash of pain. His blunt instruments strike the tender flesh of her belly first, although they do make contact with her ribs and the base of one wing as he runs over top of her. How dare you! As painful as the bruises are, they are nothing compared to her outrage.

The boy feels as if he has failed her, and he will never forgive himself for this. Forget that, pilontli. A stream of feelings invades her mind as she attempts to comfort him, but she is uncertain of how best to respond to this mixture of relief, agony, and joy. The sudden onslaught of thought makes her increasingly bitter, in fact. Stop that! Don’t you think I’ve endured enough pain? The peahen has better things to worry about than the rougarou’s feelings, after all. Now tell me where that necoc yaotl went! The drenched kitten cringes at her demands, although he does his best to project the unicorn’s image to her. She snorts at him in response, gasping at the pain that racks her side as her body clambers upwards. You have your uses. Thank you.

Without testing the durability of her freshly battered body, the panting vixen surges after the drunkard with a heavy limp in her stride, searching for his horned form and hoping that he is somewhere close by. A hoarse scream mixes with the rain permeating the air as she reaches for him, aiming to sink her teeth into any piece of his bulky form. Hopefully the beast is facing her so that she can try to latch onto his cheek or take out an eye, but she lashes out with her aching forelegs in an attempt to knee him in the chest as well. If the brute does happen to be running from her, however, it will not ruin her plans; her porcelains will aim for his chunky rump, and her thrashing legs will strive for his hocks instead.

At this point the vixen’s only desire is to repay the Legatus for the wounds he has inflicted her with, although teaching her companion a lesson works too. Make your final moments count, for they are just as important as your first.


"Talk talk talk."

{WC: 800|Attack: 3/3|Defense: 0/1

tzitzimitl -- "demon."
tixtotomac -- "you are a fool."
pilontli -- "boy/small one."
necoc yaotl -- "traitor."
mictla -- "place of death."}


Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#6
Grace of the Gods, is something finally going my way? As Bellona misses the precious body of Damaris, she seems to lose her footing and goes down in a heap in the mud. I'm already charging her, enraged by her audacity in attempting a reciprocal blow. And yet, as I'm sloshing through the awkward footing, joy rushes through me, and an ounce of my anger has dissipated by the time I reach her body. Unfortunately for her, that does not stop my onslaught. My heavy set body reaches her, and I awkwardly run/stumble/trample over her. Clunky steps that struggle to get over her ribcage. If I weren't consumed with desire for revenge, I might have laughed at the scene. A fat, tipsy stallion struggling over the poor peahen struggling on the ground. My hooves slop mud over her side and her wing, and I can only imagine that the once-beautiful hybrid may come out of this looking a little worse for the wear. I make it to her other side, happy to not be stepping on body anymore. Don't get me wrong I'm happy I trampled over her but damn it's hard to move on top of a wriggling body.

Damaris cheers me in her mind and barks happily after me. 'Best you stay back, love.' I warn her away in my mind, not wanting her to come into harm's way again. It was a close call this last time - I had not expected Bellona to lash out at the pup, but at me instead. Damaris is much too beloved to me to make the mistake of placing her beneath hooves again. The pup settles in the background, considerate of my need to not be questioned in this tense moment. So tense because the desire of the rising Bellona to exact her revenge is tangible in the air, and the rain that pounds my back seems like nothing in comparison. Damaris guards me against this rage with her own confidence, encouragement, and dare I say enjoyment of the battle.

Turning to face her, I am presented with teeth and flailing legs as a gift. Oh Bellona - if I wanted a kiss would I not have asked for it?! Her ivories come at my face and I shriek as they slide over my cheek bone, slicing it open. I try to pull my head back, but only find success when her forelegs crash into my chest. Her body slam to my hindquarters earlier leaves me unable to brace myself as well as I might have liked, and she shoves me back away from her. The mud slops against my legs but provides no hard footing for me to use in my favor. Pain runs through my hindquarters as I am thrown back and away. Trying to catch my breath that she's knocked from me makes this task of steadying myself that much harder. Damaris whimpers, then barks fiercely, feeling my pain. 'Careful!' She shouts in my mind. What does she think I'm doing - playing little games and letting the pretty girl win? For crying out loud....

There's no time to catch my breath - I have to retaliate now or I may miss my chance. I step forward and rear, settling back unevenly on to my hind legs. Perhaps this was a mistake, perhaps I'm not steady enough - will that hip remain sturdy? It's too late to back down now. My front hooves fly in Bellona's direction, and I hope that she hasn't moved far enough away to evade my attack. Perhaps if my aim is somehow good enough, I can knock her about the head and see if that pretty little brain inside rattles around. You know the saying 'bird brain'? How much space is in her skull I wonder. My ears pinned and eyes blinking rain away, I can only hope this goes well. When it's all over... I'll either laugh at the loser, or turn my tail in shame and never show my face again. I'd hate to be bested by such an arrogant female!

3/3
WC: 678
Tag: @[Bellona]
Sorry I was ungodly slow!


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

Thread Tracker
Plot Thread

*You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.

Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
#7
Bellona
To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins.


Success! Satisfaction races through her veins as the lady’s pretty mouth bites into the brute’s cheek. She cannot say that the man tastes good, but she can’t necessarily say the opposite, either; there is just too much sand mixed with his flesh, and the metallic tang of his blood takes away from the flavor. Not that it matters much, for in the long run, a bite is a bite, regardless of its essence. Striped legs meet their mark, too, and the vicious lady can’t help but to reveal her wicked smile. It is an exquisite feeling to know you have thwarted your opponent, but that conquest is made more remarkable when you know you have caused them distress as well. Even the hoarse cry that flies from his gaping maw is music to her ears. Sing for me again, beast, is her silent encouragement to the reeling man. Or I will be tempted to make you.

Her victory is short lived, however, for the stocky unicorn is quick to return her blow. The agile bird has barely any time to make use of her sharp reflexes before the clambering man is upon her, and she can’t even turn away from him before he has already risen. A sudden barrage of emotion forces her to throw her head back in surprise, and although the move prevents her head from taking any damage, her windpipes cannot say the same. The beast’s wide hooves tenderize the ruby flesh of her throat, providing her with fresh bruises in a tone that opposes her bloody one. The Aztec struggles to breathe as her mind fumbles to place the blame on a certain spotted dog, but every fiber of her being is concentrated on the act of taking in air.

Help… me… Her plea is pitiful in comparison to the fiery retort that she has once sought to deliver, but even so the boy responds to her commands with as much devotion as a priest to the Gods. His concern for her is evident in his tumbling stride and his sharp bark, but it is not to her side that he lopes towards; it is to the vile predator with the corkscrew horns that he makes his advance. The wheezing warrior watches the confrontation blearily; unable to see much through the rain other than the boy’s gangly form approaching the brute’s much bulkier one. Seeing the stand-off is not the same as feeling it, however, and the aggression that permeates their bond heightens with the pup’s harsh bark. The shifting beast has made his motives clear: his mother will be harmed no longer. Despite the betrayal that she feels at having her orders ignored, the beauty – who has learned to breathe again – can’t help but to allow a grand smile to creep across her features. Her body might be lost in the music of a battle long lost, but her heart beats to the rhythm of the sweetest of victories. You’ve done well, Mictla. Come stand beside me so that we may face this man together.

A delighted shiver courses through her body, daring damp feathers to spring up and display their glamour as the dark pup trots to her side. The vixen is so lost in her pride that she almost gives in to the temptation, but a worried bark reminds her that nothing can be gained from showing off. Instead of accentuating her beauty, the peahen chooses to accentuate her strength; an arched neck and outstretched wings transforms her from wounded damsel to staggered guardian. To the Aztec the battle has not gone on long enough, but to her battered frame it is certainly time to stop.

Chilly droplets slide down dark cheeks as she considers her opponent, appreciative of the wound she has marked him with. What do you say, boy? Does he deserve another? Her stare rakes across his brindled figure mechanically, meaning to search for some weaknesses she can exploit but appraising his lack of injuries instead. It seems that I have gone soft. It is he who should be suffering. The hybrid furrows her brow in concern, but the feeling is gone as a wave of pleasure washes over her. It is to the exuberant boy that she turns her attention towards next, and she ensures that her favor of him does not go unheard. "You have proven yourself today, pilontli. I would be a fool if I did not say so." The flames behind her stare soften to something almost fond, but the harsh gleam returns once she continues. "You have done the same, Rostislav. I do not know why we consider each other in distaste, but you have shown me that you deserve your title. Well fought, Legatus."


"Talk talk talk."

{WC: 790|Attack: 3/3|Defense: 1/1

pilontli -- "boy/small one."}


Thank you Vossity <3
Please tag me each post!
Permission granted for physical harassment!

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

BELLONA
Realism [+1.5]
:: I feel like the way you wrote Rostislav and Damaris’ attacks made it seem like there was a long period of time between them, when it really should have been rather simultaneous.
:: Instead of giving the dog a chance to latch onto just one of her towering pillars, she chooses to run over the hellhound with all four. I would have reworded this. I don’t think you meant this as a powerplay, but you really didn’t leave a lot of room for interpretation of this attack.
:: I think that having Bellona fall was an excellent way to account for her critical miss and some of the damage from Rostislav’s attack. I’m not sure that having him run her over was very realistic, though. I just can’t really imagine a situation where the running horse wouldn’t stop, and changing Rostislav’s attack like that was reaching into the realm of powerplay, in my opinion.
:: Good job keeping the scenery in mind and using it in your posts.


Emotion [+2]
:: I like the dynamic between Bellona and Mictla. I wasn’t entirely drawn in, maybe in part due to my confusion (see below), but you did a good job of setting up their relationship and Bellona’s detail and battle-oriented mind.
:: Good job continuing the dynamic with her companion in your next posts. In particular, the third post was especially good.


Prose [+3]
:: All that is matters is that it is bothering her, One too many ‘is’s.
:: Aiming to either blind the brute or smack him upside her head, His head.


Readability [+2]
:: I’m not really sure why, the prose was mostly neat in your first post, but I never really caught up with exactly what was going on in the first paragraph and a few areas after that. I think there were some vague phrases that didn’t really give me the clarity I needed to know what was going on.


Finally tally: 27 + (8.5 * 2) = 44HP

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

ROSTISLAV

Realism [+2.5]
:: In your first post you needed to take more damage. Bellona rolled a 6. I did not get any sense that the damage you took was very severe and there was little to no mention of the attack affecting him beyond the moment when it occurred.
:: Good job remembering the scenery that you created/dictated throughout the entire spar and working that into your posts. I would have liked some mention of the rain impairing vision or something to that effect, just to really give it that ‘cherry on top’ but I was quite happy with how you remembered the mud throughout.
:: Her body slam to my hindquarters earlier leaves me unable to brace myself Not sure which attack to the hindquarters you’re talking about. In her first post she hit him in the shoulder, second post she ran after Damaris…


Emotion [+1.5]
:: I really, really liked Rosti’s commentary on all of his old battles and rolling that into your first post.
:: I felt like the dynamic between Rosti and companion was better during your second post. You had so many more words available, I wish you would have expanded on his feelings a little more, so I could really be drawn in.


Prose [+4]
:: I felt like your writing was really well edited and I could tell that you spent time making sure everything was written correctly. I didn’t see any issues that I thought needed correction.


Readability [+2]
:: I had to go back and recheck some areas when you said that Bellona had hit Rostislav in the hindquarters. Otherwise, everything was fine.


Finally tally: 38 + (10 * 2) = 58HP


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