the Rift


[JUDGED] Nightlight (Essetia)
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#1
Midas
The night is warmer than previous eves, daylight had been filled with refreshing sights and sounds of birdsong forcing back frigid northern air. Unsheathing our frozen valley from its sleepy state. Tall timber began to show color, tiny buds of life sprang from yon limbs.

How many Birdsongs would I see? A hundred, a thousand? My life was to be eternally preserved, sustained. Whilst the world aged around me, I'd be left to soldier on with the gods. A great gift, yar, but I wasn't so foolish to not understand that with each wave of magic, there was an equal exchange. In return for more time to make a difference in this world, I'd be treated to watching my sons and daughters die of old age. Friends and family, wither away.

Roaring water tumbles from yon cliffs. A constant white noise that was ever present, and this first thaw made it ever more deafening. We'd survived our virgin Frostfall. Well, most of us did. I sighed, narrowed my gaze and funneled energy, emotion, into the earth. Letting the sounds of those elements become my salve to a throbbing wound. Dealing with her loss had gotten easier over the past few weeks. Africa was safe, yar, so was the herd. All of which are blessings. Sand rose, a tight cloud that swirled round.

Neve whistled and took to the sky from a close grouping of trees that lay just beyond this clearing, silvery white, glowing faintly against a background that is clustered with stars. She glides around the swirling mass, seeing only its beauty, being only a babe the girl is unaware of what damage my power could inflict.

Setting: Clear night, near a waterful in a small clearing.
Attack: (0/3)
@[Essetia]

Image Credit
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#2
Nightfall had drawn her from rest with her mind too active and too tumultuous to sleep. The land itself seemed to reverberate with a power that she could not name and even Romul seemed to sense her unease as he whimpered anxiously at her shoulder. The past seemed to haunt her and keep her from pleasant dreams. No matter her attempts to evade the pain and remembrance, her father’s face always found a way to paint itself into her thoughts.

With Romul in tow, the mare set off into the thawing landscape in search of answers. Moonlight fell over the thicket like a guiding light or a beacon of reason that remained as unassuming as her intentions. However, as her companion often did, Romul broke through Essetia’s quiet thoughts despite the silence that had turned them cold. “Someone ahead…” he whispered softly. Pausing momentarily, the two debated whether or not to intervene in the stranger’s affairs. Essetia was unaware that the unnamed subject was in fact the stallion that had delivered her a message some weeks ago… But against her better judgment, she approached vainly.

However the creature she discovered was not an earthly one, at least not in her eyes. He was a ghost that existed both between the living and the dead. His power was evident as it coursed through both bone and flesh before seemingly surging outward. The mare’s brown flecked eyes could not grace him without feeling the apparent pain that rocked the soil at his hooves. There was a moment in which she thought to run but stayed… it was an understanding that superficially bloomed between them, an acknowledgement of equality. “Find release my friend,” she murmured quietly.

She’d seen those eyes before, endured his pain, and felt his loss within her own heart… it was riddled within the illusory sorrow that sculpted his regal face. “Go Romul,” she urged. The wolf whined in protest, perhaps as an indication that his companion planned to face something much larger than her heart could handle. But the mare was persistent in her pleading and the canine finally relented before moving away reluctantly into the shadow of night.

Essetia had never faced another in such a physical manner and her nerves caused her legs to tremble as she approached the painted stallion with caution. There was a shining light that bore down upon her understanding and it was that this ethereal being was not just some town crier. He was something more, something she had yet to put a name to. However, that was the least of her worries as she came to a slow and anxious stop. Face to face with the stallion, a fear raced through her virgin heart. “Don’t fear who you are,” Romul soothed from the tree line.


Essetia was always willing to sacrifice for others but the darkness there was frightful.


With the constant rushing of a nearby waterfall to her right, Essetia ambled closer to the stud leaving about six tree lengths between them. The clearing stretched out wide beyond them and all around; she had thought to meet him directly in its heart. Gathering the power she would need to commit to such a bold act of forgiveness and punishment, Essetia used her haunches to launch herself at the painted stallion in a slow, powerful trot. The distance between them was quickly closed if only because Essetia had wanted to take a more direct approach. Though her ascent was slow, it mimicked the raw tactics of her ancestors. Her eyes never left those of molten gold as she closed in while simultaneously shifting power back into her hips.


With her back legs splayed in order to support the weight of her upper body lifting from the ground, Essetia rose into a half rear while bringing both front legs up with her. Her immediate goal was to bring both hooves down upon either side of the stallion’s chest in order to tear precious flesh. However, such a brash attack would leave her open for a counter attack, one that she assumed herself prepared for.


With hooves seeking the hardness of the thawing ground below, the mare could only hope to land somewhat safely to the right and toward the rushing of the ominous waterfall. However, thoughts and images plagued her mind as she coursed through the movements, her body still numb and lax. Romul’s fearful voice echoed through her mind pleadingly and then reassuringly as Essetia sifted through herself and her emotions.

Everything was black and unfeeling. She didn’t know who the mysterious stud was nor did she understand his plight, other than what she found in those lonely eyes. Her emotions were falling down around her, collapsing into a thick river of unknowing.

Who are you?

OOC | Word Count: 800/800
Attack: Approaches Midas head-on at a slow trot before rearing up face-to-face with hooves aiming to strike his frontal chest region. Hopes to land off to the right of him near the waterfall.
Comments: I am by no means up to par concerning spars so if something is unclear just add it to your OOC comments. I took the privilege of placing things so the waterfall would be to Midas' left and the rest of the clearing/tree line/ whatever is over there is to his right and Essetia's left. Anyways, good luck! (Although, I think we know where this is heading >.>) But the practice is great!

Credits!

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#3
Midas
If one could imagine the visual image of magic being roused from a soul. Would they see a low burning flame, smothering in a bed of white coal? Or maybe a trickle of clear water that would swell as our streams do, when Birdsong thaws snow on yon mountain caps. I imagine in my minds eye, silver spools housing living light as its yarn. Magic as living threads, spun and unwound by our soul. Using the strength of will to complete a desired action. My desire is this storm, and tis dancing, simmering. I concentrate on Neve's snowy feathers and her smile. A delightful grin that is mostly unseen; yar, who can say if an avian is scowling, brooding or grinning unless you'd seen inside their mind.

Though, there is zero doubt to what mood she is in when you catch wind of that sweet, childish melody breaking the cool night air. Her notes emerge as a second balm that softens my sorrow. Tis enough to lure the faintest hints of a smile from this tight line that has held firm across my muzzle. This friend of snow dips her wings low, allowing the tips of those pinions to brush an icy pool of gathered liquid that is off to my left. The motion sends an array of frozen droplets in her wake. Neve rises on a cool thermal and glides back into heaven. The sandstorm condenses, scattering into small shapes that take on the likeness of feathers. These lifelike creations dance in the moonlight, shining a faint glided hue, the mark of gold.

Because the main portion of my concentration is otherwise occupied. I didn't at first take notice of a certain Sleuth who is hidden just beyond the timberline with her wolf. I didn't become aware until she calls out. Unintentional my flesh startles, her words send an unwelcome chill down my spine. Confused, and suddenly apprehensive, I slowly turn toward the mares direction. Frowning.

As Neve lands on an overhead branch to observe, sand falls innocently back from whence it'd sprung. The lady starts to push past those trees entering the clearing, "To what.." words are never allowed to finish before she darts across the way, toward a recognizable purpose that sends me into a momentary stupor. What?!

Bewilderment sends my flesh shying toward retreat. I sidestep and turn left, disbelief makes my jaw momentarily slack as her massive bulk rises to cloak me in a formidable shadow. I'm painfully aware the right side of my body is exposed. With no time to spare and precious seconds already lost, I sharply swing my head left, purposely keeping out of range from those flailing daggers that are now swinging with every intention to wound. My numb expression falls away and unsure rage takes hold. A savage rumble escapes into the air, my ears are pressed so far into the back of this skull it hurts from the strain. 'What was the meaning of this?!' Yar, I wanted to scream at this crazy mare, demand an explanation; but my jaw is no longer just hanging open, molars are clinched hard together. Every fiber of my being is braced.

Her forefeet collide with my shoulder, one foot sinks past the fur and slides into flesh, it leaves a rich cut that is around four or five inches in length and nearly an inch deep. An angry snarl turns to a roar of pain as the fever of heat washes to that seared section of my body. Blood begins to trickle beneath the dark fur. One dark buckled knee hits just below my shoulder; by some miracle it avoids the fresh cut. Instead, it lands a solid blow against the plated steel around my neck. The sheer force of her weight sends me scrambling a step to the left. Urgently, I plant my weight deep into the ground to regain balance.

There is no thought of remorse, or urge to hold back; I retort out of anger. Coal lips slide, revealing pink gums and yellow teeth, a gush of saliva rushes to my mouth. There are tendons which connect the shoulder to my neck, with effort I push through the pain and snake right. That throbbing hurt makes my shoulder resist and seem sluggish to follows orders. Crown rises high, seeking to dig my teeth into the roots of her black mane, or the right side of her neck. Leaning my weight left; my right hindfoot slides up in a halfkick, aiming to strike her left hindcannon or knee with enough punishment to end this fight swiftly. Sand rises. Shapes begin to form, three small arrow objects. They take hopeful aim for her left, I send them flying with hopes of striking into the thickness of her barrel.

Words: 798
Attack: (1/3)
@[Essetia]

Image Credit
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#4
Blank, empty thoughts move sluggishly across the forefront of her mind. Her body is aware and alive but Essetia’s conscious is too far away, too muddled to make rhyme or reason of the stallion’s confusion. His words create sound that she does not expect and she falters momentarily, shocked, before regaining her composure upon ascent. The stallion, clearly no stranger to dancing with his power, moves to his left and Essetia comes down upon his right shoulder. Essetia’s outstretched hooves connect with soft flesh, skimming the hard muscle there all too quickly before falling away. Her legs and shoulders vibrate with the aftershock of landing whilst adjusting to the feeling of her weight settling down upon them once more. It is in that moment that feeling comes crashing down upon her, reminding her just where she was and what she was doing. Her eyes shift quickly to the point of contact on the male’s right shoulder only to find her view obscured by shadow of night. There is a mild burning sensation in the mare’s right knee where it had collided with the steel plate around the paint’s neck and though it aches with a dull pain, it is not severe. However, his cries of rage and agony unsettle the mare and she attempts to ignore them but she fights with the feeling for a moment too long.

Despite being able to push him away to the left with her sheer bulk as aid, the stallion is quick to retaliate. Like a snake he lunges for Essetia’s right side, hungry and determined to close yellowed teeth around the tender flesh at her neck. The mare attempts to escape the assault but is too slow to react and closes her eyes against the searing pain that blooms from the base of her mane. With a steely grip locked around both hair and flesh, the mare is forced to lean right towards the stallion. In a moment’s time the pain ignites from a simmering discomfort to a rampant fire that pulls a high-pitched squeal from Essetia’s lungs. This new sensation awakens her from the frozen state in which she felt trapped. When she opens her eyes to find the male shifting left in order to attack again, she moves simultaneously with him. Without any real thought, aside from trying to avoid whatever attack he had in mind next, Essetia side-stepped to the right.

A hiss of air and a muted thud created a small chain reaction of feeling for Essetia, first amazement then relief… Essetia managed to avoid the stallion’s kick but it was not the only thing the paint warrior had in mind for her. Movement at her left caught her eye and though she had never seen anything like the sandy figures aiming straight for the left side of her barrel, she was not fast enough to evade them. Needlepoints exploded along her stomach and once again she shrieked, only this time in anger and frustration. Her gullet jumped involuntarily from the pain and she cringed trying to ignore the agony of his magic but there was no relief to be had and though she wanted nothing more than to react, she was frozen. Her skin was mottled and dotted with blood along her stomach and a steady stream of crimson fell down the right side of her neck, but she was determined to see the fight through to its end. As she gathered herself once again for attack, her muscles tensing and screeching from the pain in her neck and barrel, she lunged forward awkwardly toward the male’s right side. It didn’t take long to close the small amount of distance she had placed between them and when she did, her neck stretched forward with teeth bared.


The pain was insurmountable where the wound on her neck tried to extend and it caused Essetia to falter slightly against her wishes. Instead of aiming for her intended goal in the middle of the male’s right side of his neck, the pain forced her to grasp lower toward the base. Irritation had started to get the better of her though and she used the opportunity to rid herself of the frustration by using her right front leg to strike out toward the stallion’s right front pastern. After attempting to inflict more damage to the male’s right side, Essetia shifted away to the left as fast as her bulk would allow. She wasn’t as fast as the painted lord, what with the entire left side of her stomach inflamed, bleeding, and bruised, but she managed to put a few steps between them. It wasn’t much, as she was not an experienced fighter, but she was going to make damn sure she went down trying.

Words: 792
Attack: 2/3
Summary: Essetia receives Midas’ bite and the sand arrows but avoids his kick. She then attempts to come back toward his right side and bite at the base of his neck and then kick him with her right front hoof towards his right front pastern.
Credits!

@[Midas]

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#5
Midas
This confusing, illogical witch is swift. Surprisingly and shockingly nimble for hauling such a bulk. My teeth slide over her silken mane; an intoxicating taste of female musk mixes with the saliva on my tongue. The aching throb in my right shoulder helps sharpen my senses and fuel untapped rage. Falls dark sleuth leans away, pulling my neck with her and stretching an already fussy wound. With a visible whence the pain forces me to let go, though bits of mare are stuck between my molars and a few stray locks of her mane tickle my tongue.

Continuing forward, past this shadowed foe. I feel no pressure from the rear hoof that'd taken aim to strike her unseen forleg; sadly, my hindfoot finds nothing but air. Though not all is lost. Her shriek of frustration and the loosening feel of my magic when those arrows hit their mark, served to reassure my wounded pride that she felt at least a sample of my power. A taste, a tantalizing sip -- when all I wanted was for the crazy girl to gorge herself on whatever meal was offered. For a single heartbeat everything went still. The bay one was frozen in place, her flesh trembling beyond my range of view. Our bodies obscured each other in shadow...a painted darkness is upon the ground.

Surging ahead I spin hard right, twisting fast while keeping my crown tucked and dipped low, with one eye carefully trained on that Nightingale body. Breathing fast, I try to pull alongside the mare, moving both our crowns in alignment; the muscled flesh along my wing felt heat and seemed close enough to burn flesh. "Wha..." This minuscule lapse was spent and gave enough time for her to regroup will I vainly wasted it trying to catch her eye and force reason. Instead of speaking an explanation or offering an apology. She whirled with all teeth out to strike again. My thoughts are drowned, precious seconds gone. Those fangs take mark, I shy back to the left, patched hindquarters tense up in expectation. Tis not enough time.

My opponent snags flesh just below the right corner of my lower neck. The skin within her hot mouth pinches painfully; a soft gasp whelps as a raspy wheeze. I start to pull away, instinctively desiring to escape the affliction. Both ivory forefeet begin to rise from earth, the first twitch of a standing rear; but she meets my plan as if reading my thoughts and kicks her right forelimb up and out. My right forearm, shorter than her lengthy leg, takes a quick hit. A hot rush of pure agony surges through my body and sears me like white fire. Twice bled, there is now a damaging slash on the front side of my leg. Blood blossoms from the cut. Tis similar in length to the one which is already a horrible hindrance laid upon me. Both lacerations tug with each motion, a painful warning to apply caution.

Misery was our only safeguard against further hurt.

As she pulls away to the left, I settle on the cold dirt. Clinching my jaws as my weight screams into an aching limb. I start to surge after her, then think better of it and pause. I'm slowed by the burning sensation in that injured leg, it takes precedence and overrides the trouble with my shoulder. Though coupled together, I'm placed at a disadvantage. Instead of lashing toward that retreating carcass I lean left, calling upon magic to aid this fight. The earth begins to shake violently a foot ahead of me. Small cracks start to form -- those tremors and vibrations are sent in a powerful wave to my oppressor. Aiming to offset, or at best send her sprawling.

Sunkissed pinions slide free, the right wing connected to muscles and tendons on my wounded shoulder forces the powerful limb to remain lifted but useless for the moment. However, my left appendage is unaffected and starts flashing against the air, stirring up a swath of dry, cold dust. Perhaps a cloud and earthquake would distract and conceal long enough to make up for agility that I've lost due to wounds. Pressing through the dust, I try to swing at her left and close the nearest wing. Muscled neck extends, my jaws takes aim for whatever portion of her spine is within reach. The tall attempt is pointless and out of my reach due to a painful snip she left in the lower side of my neck and the dull ache of my shoulder. At the last moment I pull my attack lower, and aim toward those beady wet dots on her barrel, the result from my sand. I aim to fester those wounds by digging my teeth into one.

Words: 800
Attack: (2/3)
@[Essetia]

Image Credit


OOC: Deepest apologies for the confusion on my first battle post. I just wanted to clarify my intent (since I misspelled a word and left a whole sentence out,) ;___;

Midas was supposed to be moving past Ess on the right after biting her neck. Kicking with his hindfoot to hit her foreleg, not hindleg.

I've written this next attack following that original plan and adhered to Linds according to her post. Again I'm terribly sorry for the mistake...I feel terrible messing up and making linds confused.
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#6
With her mind finally fixed, her thoughts no longer warring against one another and fighting for recognition, Essetia became more focused. The tastes of iron settling harshly upon the tongue made her froth and buzz with excitement- a clear indicator of her youth and brash tendencies. From the stallion’s neck, hair and flesh and the beginnings of new blood stirred up an unbridled thirst for more. His own heavy breath –a sign of her effect on him- ignited an inner fire, one that made the mare squeal upon finding purchase once more on his outstretched right, front leg. Burning success flared behind eyes of white heat and though he’d attempted to break words with her, Essetia refused him the honor. They were yet too deep, too invested, in the fury of battle to acknowledge compromise or understanding. As an inexperienced fighter, Essetia was soon dizzy and crazed by her accomplishments and perhaps ignorantly so. Pent up frustration toward her cowardly father, her weak mother, and her confusing life had forced her hand. She was no longer of sense or tact but instead a creature acting out of delirium and powerful emotion.


Nightfall's colorless cloak kept the mare from studying any one thing for long. Her eyes often glimpsed the shadows that fell over new grasses from a coupling of nearby trees, but only in short spurts. The contrast between the quiet serenity of the surrounding land and her own frenzied fight was baffling to her. Just beyond, the waterfall continued in its own monotony of sound and yet Essetia was forced to bend to the will of magic and power. How strange it was to deliberate such things in the midst of physical clashing and mental exertion.


With enough space between them, Essetia took a moment to glance back over her shoulder uncertain of the stallion’s next move. In that brief moment she noticed two things, one being that his injuries appeared to hinder his movement and the second that he had come to pause a few strides behind her at her left. In her attempt to move forward and away from him, Essetia had only opened herself up for further attack. She had known coming into the fight that the painted male possessed magic, but now she feared said enchanted strength. Though her pace had slowed, the mare still sought to put a fair wealth of distance between them but was jolted forward when the earth began to quake beneath her.


The trembling was subtle at first but upon a singular wave, powerful enough to fell a small boulder from its perch, the mare was thrown to the right. Her legs jarred mid-step and it took too many precious moments to regain her balance. Pain rolled through her stomach and neck and caused her to wince, to push a quivering breath from between tight lips. However, it was not the last of the paint’s attempts to unsettle her. Upon shaky legs, Essetia stepped forward once more but stopped altogether when a dusty storm dredged up around her. She tried to close her eyes against the tempest but it only rendered her open, defenseless.

A searing cry forced its way from her lungs when the stallion’s teeth found their way to her injured barrel. They opened new wounds on damaged flesh and the agony alone was disabling enough for the mare to still and falter in response. The mare could hardly see, her eyes still fighting the waves of dust wrapped around her; it was an endless tornado of mass confusion.

With the stallion within close vicinity at Essetia’s left side, the mare gathered herself for one final attack, one final attempt to even the score. However, with her vision strained by the clouds of dust settling around them both, Essetia had to rely on her instincts alone. She had to push through the pain rocking through her and roll her weight onto her shoulders. The movement alone freed yet another soft scream of distress from the young fighter and she was forced to pause in her assault. It infuriated her that he was able to weaken her, break her resolve and her body so suddenly. But this was it, the moment of truth.

Essetia again pushed through the damage upon her flesh like teeth through a rock before grinding and popping into position. This attack was crucial because it was the only way she could use her bulk and her power at their peak, combined. Once again she rolled her weight into her shoulders and took blind aim, hoping for the feel of soft skin upon both back hooves. She had gathered what was left of her energy to buck out at the stallion’s right frontal region should he still be close enough to strike after biting her stomach.

Word Count: 800
Attack: 3/3
Summary: Essetia moved forward (as seen in the last post) and to the left, slightly ahead of Midas. She was jarred by his earthquake and then blinded by his dust storm and took his bite to her left side (stomach). She then used the opportunity to buck at his right frontal region while he was in close vicinity of her hind end.
OOC: Oh wow. I really hope this made a little sense. I tried to get the directions back on course. I don’t know. >.> Let me know if you don’t understand something Angel. I’m sure… there will be something. xD
Credits!

@[Midas]

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#7
Midas
The outside world has fallen away, dulled in the back of my mind. For these past few minutes, (for it has only been minutes and not hours); I've been on a battlefront before the glory of thunder and wood.There is only one shape, one shadow that is of any importance to me, and she is already near.

Warm.

A hot mist is rising from my coat, there is budding foam in my mouth. Perspiration (or perhaps its blood) has started to show past the layers of unshed Frostfall fur. It slicks back the underside of my belly and arms, makes me wet -- but no less cool. Fires aren't so easily put out. Earth had done its part in jarring the younger opponent who so savagely has tried over and over to bend my knee.

I. Would. Not. Be. Bowed...by this...senseless

Moist tegrindrind against her body. I scrape hard; harder than I'd ever intend upon a clan mate -- my purpose, to wound and lacerate flesh. She attacked me with no cause or reason, and thus awakened a creature that is often buried beneath the rubble of my shattered self. I start to press forward after snapping at her barrel. She turns her dark hind to me, ebony tendrils flashed against my side. Stinging sweetly a warning.This movement is familiar, I've had many a whelp turn their ass to me. Feet retreat by sidestepping away...my right self in particular has been delved with much abuse. Crown rises high just as the flash of those daggers brush powerfully above my shoulder, narrowly missing the steel which covers a solid part of flesh, and her previous grievance. Instead the bite of one heel falls to a spot just below my withers, where wing connects to the joints of this body, and bone runs its course down to the center of my being.

I avoided a large part of her heavy blow, the weight of it would have crushed bone had my feet not danced a step away. Instead she hits ivory flesh and scraps down the muscle of my right wing. No blood was lured, though a few stray feathers are snagged free. They flutter to the churned earth, unseen by those who frayed above. Fallen, to be trampled. A warm burst of fresh pain ignites from the bruising spot which she struck, my wing would be sore until I met with a healer...Yar, but I was lucky enough to escape lasting damage.

Teeth are tightly clinched, brows are high and eyes wide. Dirt shivers beneath my feet, magic is draining my energy; making the soul feel just as weak as this wretched flesh is beginning to be. With one powerful summons I call upon all the energy that is left within these bones -- the ground splinters open and somewhere a tree cracks, falling to the ground. All around the floor shifts violently, loose dirt particles bounce on the surface. In a nearby pool, the water begins to ripple away from its designated shoreline.

Raw power surges from my body, I aim for the girl -- this foolish child who has caused such undue annoyance. She continues to fight, but not now..nay. Not now. For a moment I'm no longer myself, the creature that stands before her is a wrathful beast. Wounded beyond measure and furious at the one who dares to throw salt. A visible line of broken earth splits in two and comes racing for her. Breaking apart the soil and creating a shallow cavern below. It moved to not just trip or stumble, but to completely dominate by making her bow and sprawl into the blood soaked dust.

Words: 616
Attack: (3/3)
@[Essetia]

Image Credit
[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Essetia Posts: 218
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion Linds
#8
The winds carried change within their soft folds. An electric surge seemed to reverberate from the Falls and her bountiful bosom; Essetia had not missed it. Everything appeared to fall still around her and time slowed to a painful drag… Her skin crawled with the supernatural aftershock of magic, the blanketing sensation of fear and failure. It cooled her trembling flesh, but only uncomfortably so. The painted Lord had managed to tear a long, jagged gash along her left side and each time she moved it coursed with new and vibrant pain. It felt as though a fire had blossomed along her flesh, raced across its surface and finally exploded into an inferno of iron resolve.

But Essetia only felt numb.

It was as if she knew the fight was over for her, that she had handed him her white flag and held her tongue to the side, defeated. She had wanted to prove herself while simultaneously easing the evident sorrow that festered in unseen wounds upon the stallion’s heart. After all, he had not decided to summon magic and a storm of sand if not troubled by something larger than he… Essetia had only sought to soothe him and therein, soothe herself.

But nothing was calmed in battle. Everything was only heightened, exploited. No longer did she feel joyous in landing attack upon already wounded skin. No longer did she experience anger or excitement or determination. Nothing had been spared in this fight. Indeed, Essetia had managed to strike tender muscle in lashing out at the painted Lord, but it did not relax jarred thoughts or wounded pride. Instead, it recalled old memories of days past, images of love and family that were no longer.

No, there had been no rhyme or reason behind this fight nor would she ever claim as much. But now her body felt just as mottled at her heart.

When hind hooves touched the soft soil, the mare cringed with the might of force and agony combined. Her neck pulsed as crimson trailed along the deep earthen fur and her stomach shook with a deep, burning ache. She had no options left, no way to escape her fate any longer. Quickly she cast a pale gaze back at the stallion, pleading for release. However, all she saw was blind rage- his vision impaired by whatever demons she had evoked. “I-,” she choked on a tired breath.


But Essetia was not given time just as she had not allowed it…


The ground began to tremble underfoot and the mare turned her eyes slowly to the shuddering of the tall grasses. It was then that she understood what was expected of her… if she did not fall, the stallion’s cruel revenge would go unanswered and that was not something she would assume was tolerable in his case.

It was then that she started to run. Her gait was uneven in her need to outrun whatever hurricane was to come; she had seen it in his eyes… Images of both her father and mother came to mind and mindless fear fell slowly over her sensibility- she was trapped. She had spent so much of her life running from her past and from her indecision and this… this stranger had forced her to face reality.


Fire licked across skin and delved inward, brushing through both bone and muscle until it consumed her. The violent cracking of earth and rock beckoning from behind her warned of the Lord’s impending intent and when it was finally able to match her lopsided stride, her back, right hoof was engulfed in the retreating turf.


With the ground taken from beneath her, Essetia went crashing into the soil beneath her hooves. A wordless cry followed her down in a tangle of limbs and blood. Defeat. It tasted so foul upon her tongue. The soft cracking of strained joints and disgruntled moans joined in with the chorus of her mass thrumming into the turf, soiled and beaten. The mare did not rise from place for fear that bones had been dismantled in the fall but a terrified song rose from her lips, one of mercy and grace and pain…


Her life had transformed, been bent and shifted from her previous spirit. Only anger remained. Anger for being abandoned. Anger for having to take up arms in the Wilds. Anger for having to open her heart to a new and foreign family… and finally, anger for her weakness as it overwhelmed her even now.


When time had allowed her a moment to deliberate her own well-being, Essetia rose from the ground of battle, her back still turned to the painted Lord. She did not offer him well-wishes or praise for his performance and instead opened stride toward their borders… more than happy to walk away.

Word Count: 800
Attack: 3/3
Closing Defense: 1/1
Summary: The splitting of the ground catches her back, right hoof and she is sent sprawling out over the ground. Her body is bruised and battered from the fall.
OOC: THANK GOD. IT’S OVER. You did amazing! Thank you! I had fun. <3
Credits!

@[Midas]

◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#9
By my verdict: MIDAS is the winner!

ESSETIA
Realism [+0]
:: The distance between them was quickly closed if only because Essetia had wanted to take a more direct approach. I gave some leeway for you to set everything up, but by this point you need to start wording things less directly. Midas is probably going to want to move at this point- you’re not giving him much options with such direct wording.
:: It didn’t take long to close the small amount of distance she had placed between them and when she did, her neck stretched forward with teeth bared. Same note as before- you can’t say that she for sure closed the distance because Midas could have moved.
:: Your attacks in post 2 aren’t entirely feasible, considering Midas should have been moving away from her at this point.
:: You took a little too much damage in post 3/3. Midas only rolled a 1, which should have amounted to a superficial scratch or a small bruise- something to that effect.
:: Again, in your defense, I think you took a little more damage than you needed to. Falling to the ground and not moving for worry of broken bones would be more akin to a critical hit for me.
:: I would have liked to see more consideration of the environment and how it was affecting her judgement.


Emotion [-1]
:: In your first post I good a good sense of who Essetia was, which was nice, but I didn’t get a great sense of what she hoped to gain out of fighting. I’d like to see more of that.
:: Your second post was almost entirely technical, describing what was going on with the fight. Don’t forget to leave room for emotion- you could have saved some words by not describing her attack on Midas a second time.
:: By your closing post you get that emotion back, but I can’t count that since the closing post is only about your defense/realism.


Prose [+2.5]
:: I noticed a few places where you used periods when a comma would have been better.
:: She was no longer of sense or tact but instead a creature acting out of delirium and powerful emotion. I feel like some words are missing here.


Readability [+1.5]
:: By the end of your post 2, I’ve lost sense of positioning of the two horses and I’m not really sure how they are placed in relation to one another any longer. Regardless, I’m confused about your attacks considering that Midas seemed like he was moving away from her and she would need to give chase.

Finally tally: 38+(3*2)= 44HP

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

MIDAS
Realism [+3.5]
:: though bits of mare are stuck between my molars and a few stray locks of her mane tickle my tongue. Essetia never said anything about any hairs being pulled out.
:: Good job working in the environment in post 2
:: I like that you noted that Midas has seen people preparing to buck many times before and used that to your advantage.


Emotion [+0]
:: I like how Midas is so quick to enter warrior mode- I think it is really fitting of him, considering his history.
:: That said, by post 2 I’m losing my sense of him and starting to feel like this is a very technical fight.


Prose [+0]
:: I noticed a few places where you used a period when I think a comma would have been more correct.
:: I imagine in my minds eye, Mind’s
:: Unintentional my flesh startles, Unintentionally?
:: The writing in the first post just seems very choppy, this continues throughout the battle.
:: Falls dark sleuth leans away, Fall’s
:: With a visible whence the pain forces me to let go, wince
:: Perspiration (or perhaps its blood) has started to show It’s
:: Moist tegrindrind against her body. teeth grinded?


Readability [+1.5]
:: Trying to understand the series of movements that was occurring in your first post took me quite a while. I’m not ever sure I really got a sense of what he was doing. It seemed rather rushed through.

Finally tally: 49+(5*2)= 59HP


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