the Rift


[JUDGED] wreck me [Graveyard - Caneo]

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#1
ELSA
I can fake a smile, I can force a laugh. I can hold the weight of worlds.


Thus far the championships have been far from impressive. The first two opponents have left her standing alone, with nothing else to do but return and await the next round. This time, Elsa is in this to win it. She will not stand idly by and let her opponent rush out of view and escape like a coward. This was a fighting championship for god’s sake! Why was everyone so flighty?

Determined this time to scare them into staying, she concocts the perfect disguise. It doesn’t take much time to bring the costume into fruition. After a roll in some red Ilex Verticillata, she’s looking like the badass god of the underworld. Upon her head, she fashions two crude stick contraptions. Each sticks is melded with a couple of others to resemble the horns of a ram. They are fashioned onto her face by an old bridal. They are fastened to the browband by red string, and loop around her ears before sticking out by her eyes. Also fastened there is a diaphanous red fabric. It covers her eyes, concealing her determined facade. She will not show her face until this battle is over. The more anonymity there was, the more she could focus on taking he opponent down. With one final touch, she takes some black clay, and puts a line down the center of each of her hooves, to add the final air of being a cloven hooved devil.

Speak of the devil, it seems she has arrived in time. Elsa expects to be greeted with another large, flashy building or an open sunny field. Instead, she’s in for one heck of a shock. In the early hours of the crisp Orangemoon day, Elsa can see the looming figures of the arena. Large trees sway in the cool breeze, their dying, swaying ivy obstructing her vision from seeing any further. Elsa picks up her pace; hoping to scope out the place before the morning storm, and her opponent, arrive.

Elsa isn’t quick enough, because just as she breaks through the ivy, the grey clouds release their water (or, as Elsa’s sister called it, the pee of the Gods) and it begins to soak into her skin. Already the red paint she had covered herself begins to drip from her body, painting the ground a rusty red. That, however, is one of the few problems that will plague her. The next one is revealed rather quickly, the further away she gets from the tree line the soggier the ground gets until- THWUCK! Her feet sink into the morass. Elsa moans, she worked so damn hard on this costume and it was being soiled before she even arrived! Hopefully her mysterious partner would not chastise her for not preparing for the weather. Grumbling, she trudged through the mud, until the water finally spread out a little bit, allowing for some respite from the boggy ground.

Elsa found a patch just large enough to hold her at the moment. It was beneath one of the old knuckled trees that had survived this far into the marsh. It’s large, thick branches had been kind enough to keep the rain from continuously saturating this area, so it was able to hold her weight. That, however, was a very short-lived prize. Spread out before her was one of the most dangerous animals she had ever crossed. Their scaly, rough skin was nearly impossible to get through, and she had never met anyone who had been strong enough to completely remove them from this world. Elsa’s eyes widened, just catching out of the corner of her eye the “true” opponent. From the quick glance he was given, the poor thing looked to be a banana. That right there meant her attention would be more focused on these scaly creatures to start with.

One of the crocodiles had been hunting for a while. It apparently had been stalking her as she had entered into the marsh. Right before it attacked, all Elsa could hear was the low, grumbling hiss. The large, gaping mouth came at Elsa’s left side. The teeth tore into her stifle. Elsa screamed, louder than she had in her entire life. Although the crocodile hadn’t ripped the entire chunk of flesh out, the teeth marks left some hanging, painful flesh. The pain rushed through her body like burning venom. She knew she had to move, with another scream, she began moving her hind legs towards the banana man. Each step felt like fire engulfing her rear. Hoping to close the distance, and bring the hungry alligator to him. Elsa tries to fire an ice spike up out of the ground towards the side where Caneo’s barrel is out of view to push him towards her.

He. Will. Lose.

[1/2 :: 795 Words :: vs. Caneo]
[Elsa is dressed as a devil, she has a bridal holding stick horns and a red veil to her face and is "painted" red]
[Elsa tries to spike him with an ice spike to force him towards her.]
"Talketh."


I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask.. give you all I am.
but i'm only human. and I bleed when I fall down.

  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#2

        Morning must be here somewhere, hiding behind the clouds. Caneo peers upward only briefly in search of it. More irritating things now suck at the silver boy’s attention. Mud is the first of these: mud teasing at his every step, glistening on his pasterns and clogging the cleft between his toes. Is there nowhere else to fight? A desert, maybe? He would even take a sandstorm over this. The air he sucks in tastes of mold and water and rotting plants, and the noises of unhappy things lurking somewhere nearby tickle at his ears. Well then, where is the opponent? Caneo hopes, a little despairingly, whoever it is at least looks as stupid as he does.

        He is no longer very pretty, anymore. He is in fact the only bright thing to be found: a long yellow shape, like a child’s attempt at a crescent moon, covers his body chest to rump. It is not the moon, of course. The moon is never so ugly. With every step the costume encumbers his legs; he wonders about kicking with the stupid tail end curving over his haunches like that. It’s not even hard enough to make a suitable ram with either pointed end. The only purpose, in fact, seems to lie specifically in irritating Caneo, who has no use for yellow felt and has never once seen a banana in his life. A cold rain spits from the heavens as he searches out his next opponent, and his long ears twitch in response. It feels like tiny, cold fingers tapping against his skin, at least where skin is exposed. While his costume remains relatively dry, it at least does a little work in preserving his body’s heat. He is not as grateful as he should be.

        He thinks about tricking his enemy into cutting this yellow thing off.

        Some sort of movement catches his attention – a flash of white up ahead. The boy is all wires at once, his thin body drawn tense. A moment later, the air shatters around a piercing scream. Whoever it is struggles with something under the boughs of a nearby tree.

        She comes toward him all at once: some sort of red and white monstrosity, with two horns curving from her brow. Blood runs down one of her legs. Caneo hesitates; something in him wonders if perhaps he ought to turn and run. He has come this far, though, and not by fleeing like a child. With a snort, gathers his strength, the muscles of his haunches taut like pulleys on a catapult. He has just begun to move when something tears up from the ground beside him – something sharp and cold.

        Caneo bolts. One eye cocks back in confusion toward the attack, where a weird sort of pointed rock juts up from the ground. Its tip has broken through the yellow fabric of his costume, on the right side; he feels the cool point against his barrel, feels the sting of flesh scraped away and knows a small welling of blood will follow. He has not been impaled to any significant degree, however, and he tears away from the ice pick with a snort, his long legs churning through the muck. It hurts like being clumsy and skinning his knees. Caneo is old enough to keep moving despite the pain. He is old enough to look at the girl hurtling toward him and make some sort of decision about what he shall do to her.

        He notices wings – fragile things. This girl is a little smaller than Caneo and he harbors no hope of ducking under any part of her feathers. He thrusts forward blindly then, his long neck strung out, the pointed end of his costume like the ramming prow of a ship, but certainly more useless. She looks a little bulkier than he is, maybe – difficult to tell. He hopes her wings are fragile as the dragon man’s were. Caneo leads with an attack entirely lacking in subtlety or grace. He tries to slam the whole of his momentum into the front of her left wing, to smash as much of it as he can, to wrench it back and pull muscle and tear tendon apart. His long neck stretches out toward her withers or whatever bit of back presents itself. Black lips peel back and he aims to bite, too, though he handles this strike with less enthusiasm. Close combat is not his specialty; he prefers to hit and be away, to touch as little as he can. He doubts the usefulness of kicking in this awkward get-up, though, and so he does what he can to break the girl apart.

        He’s glad, at least, he isn’t fighting another brutish stud.

_______________________________________________________
attack: 1/2
word count: 792 words
notes: Banana!Caneo is dressed in yellow felt which is just stiff enough to hold its shape when no pressure is being applied to it from the outside (in other words, it's soft and won't poke anyone). The front of the banana pokes out from his chest, and the back pokes out from his haunches. There are leg holes in the bottom and a little hole for his tail, too.
--
Took a small scrape to the right side of his barrel from the ice spike. Then he charged and tried to ram into her left wing, hoping the combined momentum of him running at her and her running at him would do some damage. Also tried to bite whatever part of her was nearby. Has not yet noticed she brought him a crocodile.

full image

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#3
ELSA
I can fake a smile, I can force a laugh. I can hold the weight of worlds.


The small droplets of rain wipe away the red. The rivulets of the soaked paint fall quickly down her body to feed the ground. At this point, it’s hard to tell what of her is actually bleeding. She can feel the stifle screaming at her, but the constant nagging of her wound was starting to drive her crazy. From beneath her thin veil, all she can see is the red silhouette of a freaking banana. Is he bloodied to already? Was this a match to the death? She was not about to give up her life so soon, if that was the case.

Springing into action the ice pulls up from the ground. When it does so, she loses touch, only hoping it had pierced into this banana’s soft fleshy side. Even if it did, she can see no expression of pain, or awkward movement of his body. She growls then, how could she have possibly missed?! Her mind turns into a boiling pit of rage. She has practiced way to much to loose to a rotten banana!

He suddenly is out of view then, as he moves around her left. Why the blind side? Hoping to avoid him and the crocodile, she attempts to take a few more steps forward. As she does so, it’s obvious her decision was a terrible one. The red world stops moving as her front hooves sink into the damp ground. It gobbles them up with a gurgle, and she struggles with pulling them out. Her hind feet, which are on a dry patch, provide her only option for escape. She tries to rear, but is immediately hit by what feels like a train. Her body stumbles sideways, but her front feet are still stuck. They bend into the most awkward position before pulling free with a disgusting sucking sound. The front of her body now feels like a twisted pretzel, and there is an odd pumping feeling that resonates in her front two hooves. There was no doubt that some sort of muscular damage had occurred. That isn’t it though, his teeth clamp down onto her right shoulder. It feels like the worlds worst pinch, and something that feels like lightening bursts through her whole shoulder. Her mind wants to be numb to the pain, but she feels like she has been dipped in hot water, and someone is raising the temperature.

Speaking of rising temperature, the air felt thick with humidity. Even with the rain, she can feel droplets of sweat forming all across her body. Whether it was from the heat, or the extreme pain, she will never know. However, she knows she cannot take any more damage from him. Using her hind legs to avoid landing in mushy ground, she pushes into a rear, turning as she did so to hopefully face Caneo head on. As she did this, her hind leg screamed, and screamed. It was like a wailing child, but Elsa knew she could not coddle the wound now. If she did so, that would mean giving up; and she would not give up. Hoping Caneo had not moved then, she kicked out. Her ankles were wailing too, but she gently reminded them that at least she did not take to a buck. If she had, there would have been no way she could’ve supported her own weight. So, this was the next best thing. She aimed for both his face and horn, hoping to at least give him a concussion and to take off his horn. It was wishful thinking, but at least it was a good goal.

Goals however, were nothing unless they could be carried out. Elsa knew it would be a tough fight, but if she could manage bringing him down, she could walk away with her head held high. If he had made it this far also, either opponent is sure to be a hard one to beat. Although he was bigger, had a horn, and was a male, she was sure that she could take him down in one fell swoop. Women were sneaky, and a thousand times more dangerous than men. He had no idea what he was in for.

[2/2 :: 0/1 Defense :: 699 Words :: vs. Caneo]
[Elsa is dressed as a devil, she has a bridal holding stick horns and a red veil to her face and is "painted" red]
[Elsa tries to kick him in the head :3]
"Talketh."


I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask.. give you all I am.
but i'm only human. and I bleed when I fall down.

  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#4

        Caneo recalls the sharp prickling of regret the moment he crashes into the girl. His damp, grey and yellow body stalls beside her, momentum fading as his narrow skeleton groans into hers and against the mud. She lurches awkwardly away; he tastes flesh between his teeth and he hopes it hurts, or else he’s had her in his mouth for no reason, at all. Why doesn’t she scream?

        Has her voice given up?

        As the girl staggers to his left, Caneo fidgets awkwardly in the opposite direction. He watches her though, his blue eyes nearly glowing in the hazy light of the wet morning. She wrenches herself up out of the mud, and he wonders if she intends to fly, or leap at him. So intent on the girl, Caneo forgets her reason for charging at him before. He forgets that something must have made her scream earlier. He is still dazed from the collision, his brain spinning rapidly and gaining no traction as he struggles to think of what next? His momentary lapse in concentration costs him.

        A foreign shape erupts from the muck at his feet. Long jaws part and many teeth gleam briefly at him, jagged and hungry, gaping. Instinct alone throws his body back, hooves sliding through the mud, haunches quivering tense as they struggle to support his weight. He staggers back, his forelimbs lifted in a brief, haphazard rear. Luckily the girl is rearing at the same time, forelimbs aiming down as his head jerks up and only just out of her reach. A moment later Caneo finds he has been too slow, anyway.

        The crocodile’s teeth close around a slender foreleg, teeth raking down through thin flesh and drawing long, ugly lines of red. Suddenly his left limb burns; he stabs with with the muddied toes of the right as a high, desperate squeal erupts from his chest. Die! He snorts, head craning around the awful prow of his costume in desperate effort even to see the ugly thing. It thrashes somewhere below him, its jaws empty, clamped shut half a breath after he jerked his leg away. Still the wound cries out and the beast lives; Caneo moves forward haphazardly, his hind legs shoving him into a shallow leap over the monster’s back and onto the small portion of dry land beyond.

        He lands on the healthy limb first, but nearly falls anyway when his right toes find the ground and shudder. Caneo isn’t made of muscle or fat enough to cushion any such blow; he manages to remain upright though and with a grunt he turns, tracking the crocodile’s movement and the girl’s with frightened eyes.

        She wanted him to charge.

        He sees now she is clever, and more familiar with battle than he. She has tricked him; his ears slick back to display a mixture of pain and irritation as it flares like acid through his mind. She is no better than the crocodile, even if she hurts less. She might be stuck in the mud now, though, and he might catch her if he tries – and hurt her, too. He has never felt an urge to harm like he does now. His struggling against the dragon-man had been urgent and haphazard. His battle with the swordsman had been nearly painless. Now, though, Caneo feels only a strange desire to stop the girl’s breathing, and make her food for these beasts. His body is aching and tired; he might feel the chill of morning if his muscles didn’t quiver so with rough exertion. It is all her fault.

        He moves back toward her.

        Injured, bleeding, and beginning to tire with fear slick in his veins and mud struggling to devour his feet, Caneo hopes to come up on girl's side. She may well manage to turn and face him before he reaches her; he cannot account for that, but he aims for that bleeding stifle, anyway. His neck curls down as he does so, bringing forward the short, sharp curve of his horn. He plans to rake the point up through her injury, to further cripple her. His own limb aches with every limping step he demands from it; water climbs dirty against the wound and the silver boy’s entire body is a taut string, a bow waiting to be released. He is tense with pain and nearly blind with it, and he throws the sharp edges of his pale bones at her almost carelessly, wanting only to hurt, forgetting perhaps his own mortality – that he was always better served by flight.

_______________________________________________________
attack: 2/2
word count: 761 words
notes: He was distracted by the crocodile and moved back and reared at the same time she attempted to strike his head, dodging that attack. The crocodile bit his foreleg pretty badly, though, and in an effort to escape Caneo jumped over its back and landed on drier ground. He then tried to turn around and charge at Elsa again, and rake at her injured stifle with his horn.
---
@[Elsa]

full image

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#5
ELSA
I can fake a smile, I can force a laugh. I can hold the weight of worlds.


Scream? Why would she? To scream is to give up, to scream is to let Caneo succumb to his fantasy that he will win; and Caneo will not win. Instead, he will go running home with his disgusting little tail hung between his legs like a dog.

As her feet lash out at the mutt’s face, all she hits is air. A gargled, rage embroiled cry erupts from her body like a volcano. Heat rushes through her body, bringing her back to life. She can feel the anger pulse in her shoulder, beat in her hooves, and bleed from her stifle. Its running mad, and Vesuvius is soon to erupt.

Hooves came crashing back to the ground, landing with a dull “thwunk” in the viscous mud. Her feet resonated in pain, but the ground had provided some give, and landed her gently, but she doesn't want gentle. She wants to run, she wants to explode, but she is suddenly stopped by something else. The very creature that had tried to eat her was now going after him! She pauses in a moment of pure awe to watch as the pearly, sharp whites clamp down around banana’s leg. Blood emerges quickly, painting his little stick leg red. Laughter finally emerges, slow and quiet at first, but then an explosion. Her squeals are high and joyous for her plan had worked! That horrible little beast had followed her, only to find that he preferred much more slender meat.

She continues to laugh, watching with childish glee as the banana jumps for his life, landing awkwardly on a nearby patch of dry ground. Her laughter continues to roar, only dying away to watch stick mans little ears slick against his head. Maybe he had been smart enough to realize he’d been set up. She shoots him a little wink and puckers her lips. Never forget, women are the most dangerous predators around. Even crocodiles succumb to their trickery.

Poor little banana hasn’t given up yet, and he charges at her, coming stubby horn first. Knowing her front legs will not allow her much movement, knowing this, she takes a few steps back, so he is aimed at her front instead of her stifle. Hoping to avoid any more damage, she pushes off on the dry land her hind hooves are still on. Her putrid, muscled body rises into the air. Although her stifle screams again in protest, she cannot physically run on her front hooves. Pain is the sacrifice for safety.

Elsa, however, did not ascend to her height in time. Banana’s slight taller body nicks her front hooves that were dangling down as he rushes at her. A feeling of dread creeps over her as she feels the fire rushing to take her legs. Her breath catches as she falls and explodes into a cry as her front hooves hit the ground. She had not only miscalculated that one, but how stupid was she to forget she needed to actually land at some point?!

Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes, and her ears slick back against her muddy, rusty red skull. Her eyes glow like flames as she widens her teeth to snap at Caneo. A low, guttural growl follows. She takes a painful step forward, and hisses. "Get out of my swamp." Her voice is cold, cool, and collected but mildly crazy. Maybe he'll leave, maybe he won't; all she wants to do is go get some sleep. He may have been a fruit, but he was a fruit that put up a hell of a fight.

[2/2 :: 1/1 Defense :: 598 Words :: vs. Caneo]
[Elsa is dressed as a devil, she has a bridal holding stick horns and a red veil to her face and is "painted" red]
[Thanks for the fight! :DD]
"Talketh."


I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask.. give you all I am.
but i'm only human. and I bleed when I fall down.

  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#6
By my verdict: CANEO is the winner!

ELSA
Realism [+2]
Great introduction with the costume, I really loved it! I would have liked to see it mentioned a bit more in the second post as well. You also had great scenery all throughout, although I’m not sure that just your front feet would have gotten stuck in the mud if you were running at that speed - you probably would have gotten all legs stuck or face planted. I also struggled with the realism for that because a crocodile was supposed to be chasing you, but you didn’t even mention it in your second post. I thought it was unique to have the crocodile attack you in your first post, but I was hoping for more detail, it felt a bit rushed - however I really enjoyed the use of your ice magic, a clever idea! I enjoyed seeing you continually mention the stifle attack you received. You took appropriate damage in your second post for the damage rolled, however I’m not sure how Caneo bit your right shoulder when he said he attacked her left side. Similarly your last defense was very undetailed and didn’t seem realistic - you didn’t say what happened with his horn attack and you only back up and rear which doesn’t seem enough to cause him to miss. perhaps if you had described it more as she quickly adjust last minute, but even then he probably wouldn’t go from her rear legs to her front. Otherwise he could easily re-aim while he’s moving.


Emotion [+1]
I felt a little bit of emotion, like Elsa being annoyed at everyone running so choosing to hide her face, and being frustrated that her attacks didn’t do more damage then laughing at him when the crocodile mauled him, but it all felt like I was being told rather than shown and none of it ever went more than an surface mention here and there. I was hoping to understand more of Elsa’s thoughts and feelings.


Prose [+2]
Some of your writing is very pretty and connects well, but these posts felt rushed and your transitions were often choppy.



Readability [+1.5]
Although pretty easy to read you didn’t mention which side you came at Caneo in your first post.

Post 2:
“She has practiced way to much to loose to a rotten banana!” (too much, lose)


Finally tally: 49+(6.5*2)= 62 HP

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

CANEO
Realism [+2.5]
I was laughing the entire time imagining Caneo in a felt banana suit, and I really liked seeing it both help you stay a bit warm, and block your view of the crocodile. I would have liked some mention of the crocodile in your first post, even saying that he didn’t notice it, because otherwise it seemed as if you dismissed it. You responded well to its attack, however I didn’t see any effect from the terrain - you did mention scenery, like the rain and some of the swampy smell and the dry ground, however it was always limited and never seemed to impact you much. Otherwise all your attacks, defenses, breed references, and timing were all spot on.


Emotion [+2]
I felt a decent amount of emotion from Caneo, especially with the motives behind his attacks, however I was hoping to see more of his personality shine through to bump this score higher.


Prose [+4]
Your writing continues to be absolutely beautiful and flows together so nicely, it’s really enjoyable to read.


Readability [+1.5]
Although pretty easy to read you didn’t mention which side you were attacking Elsa in your second post.

Post 2:
“hopes to come up on girl's side. “ (the girl’s)


Finally tally: 43+(10*2)= 63 HP


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