| Administrator |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
| Official |
09-11-2012, 03:34 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-25-2012, 04:12 PM by Tamme.)
The first round will be between Ricochet v. Deimos. You will be fighting using strictly magic, and your goal is not necessarily to injure your opponent. You will be assessed based on realism of writing and creativity. Make your judge believe in your magic!
There will be Two Rounds plus a Closing defense. Official challenge rules for time limits and word counts apply.
You are fighting in the: Helovia's Heart with the flames at a dangerously high level, making it very hot.
NOTE: Penalty for Ricochet: Late closing defense post.
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
The rising tide of rancor within the dun stallion had set him on edge as of late. Coupled with the need to pretend to play nice or about face any time he saw a horn or heard the rustle of wings, Ricochet was fit to burst at the first transgression he was faced with.
Evangeline and her abhorrent horned-babe still burned like a hot knife in his back, while his heart wilted at the knowledge of his sister carrying unicorn seed and producing Jackal. The boy looked equine enough, but knowing better Ricochet had to keep his savagery in check. Such a heaviness within him was enough to incite weariness and stoke his eternal fires, but it didn't end there, how could it? On a less personal scale the current situation of Isilme being overrun and his home in Helovia equally so, though with all manner of species, even tree-horses for Nieque's sake! No one but he seemed bothered by this which set him at an immediate disadvantage for attempting to change it otherwise, as the face of his father and all he felt right in his bones decreed. Just to add the apple on top of the grass, a unicorn reigned in that herd and pushed for the equality.
Ricochet was sick of unicorns. The next unicorn he saw he was sure he’d kill if only to begin the inevitable eradication of their obnoxious, aggravating and invasive species.
That's when Ricochet saw it, a black horn tipped with blue. It was waving around on the other side of the heart, the blistering inferno Ricochet had been walking to circumvent. He was near the edge now, perhaps the only thing that finally gave his eyes the distance to notice the black stallion treading across from him.
Teeth clenched immediately as Ricochet drove his hoof into the dirt, furrowing the earth as his frustration overwhelmed him. An unnatural shriek bugled from his chest as Ricochet succumbed to his rage. With his thrashing tail like a whip biting into his haunches he bolted forward. Hooves beat a strong rhythm into the compact, heated earth. To his left the gaping cavern of fire twisted and hissed, red embers crawling like insects along the rim. Teal eyes regarded the pit with a maniacal glint, one which spread into the wolf’s grin consuming Ricochet’s twisted face. It pulled at the lines of his scar, but that hurt only fed the urge to destroy.
In limited time Ricochet was near the unicorn, his lineage providing him that burst of speed in short distances and muscle toning. Deimos was no less lacking with athleticism, but the brute was taller and Ricochet knew he could outmaneuver anything so lanky, much less something dragging a sword on it’s gargantuan head. The horns surely must pierce their brains, limiting the function and severely decreasing their intelligence.
As Ricochet ran on he set his attention on the ground around Deimos. He noticed, rather with surprise, that it appeared softer than the packed turf he himself strode upon. It seemed to be, crumbling, dying even. The arrogant stallion disregarded this, his fury limiting his concern for such details as he strove to turn that malleable dirt into the shiny, black powder that similarly coated his nose and his hooves. He could taste the prickly metal on the back of his tongue and feel it sliding around the base of his throat constantly. He literally was the Incendiary – a ticking time bomb.
"RICOCHET THE INCEDNIARY – FUCK YOU!" Ricochet shouted at the top of his lungs as he galloped around the edge of the Heart. As he spoke his head dropped, ears melting against his dark mane and teal eyes turning into daggers. Like a freight train Ricochet arrived upon Deimos. The timing had to be perfect, and it would hurt like hell, but it would be worth it just to see the look of terror. Teeth clicked – limbs locked – hooves skid. Ricochet drove all his momentum and weight onto his forehand, hooves skating into the top surface of dirt and throwing it up like a discolored tidal wave of dust. It quickly shimmered and rippled, its color drifting to the sparkly black, which was soon consumed with flame and sparks. If he aimed true it would sizzle around Deimos’ head and chest, too quickly for the unicorn to react much.
The ground around Deimos remained dark and sinister, as yet unlit and likely unnoticed.
The impact of the halt jolted up Ricochet’s limbs like a cold splintering. Bruising had occurred as cells were tossed around and damaged. Once he’d collected his forward motion he leaped to the right, away from the rim of the heart. All of this happened in snap motions together, his dust having just finished detonating.
[1/2 - 798 words - Ricochet charged at Deimos, changing the dust around his feet to gunpowder, a set up for the next post. He skid to a halt just before impact, changing the dust that threw up into gun powder and igniting that then leaping sideways.
R I C O C H E T - -
blam, you're dead
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| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
The only terror he could display was his own monstrous, behemoth potency. He rung silent chords, the terrible, unsung hymns of a demon enshrouded in smoldering, simmering heat, still cold, still glacial, still chilling as a bane of existence tore towards him. He had enough hate and malice in his heart, entombed with the puissant horror laced within his prowess, to condemn the vibrant, though foolish, individual who scrambled along the flattened, scorching terrain. Not unicorn, but equine; the supremacist creed his father had murmured molded and meshed into the argent scion’s cranium, bleeding into his deplorable, horrible psyche like a twisted, callused sword, baited, goaded him to barb, stab, pierce. How should it end for this unfortunate soul? How should he make him bleed? How should he damn him – like so many others that he’d punctured, that he’d destroyed? The methodical pulsing within his mind carved and combed, narrowed eyes watching as the dun opponent streaked along the rubble and ruin, the bubbling croon of a Helovia’s seething heart. There was patience in his acrimonious fixture, watching, waiting, calculating as the fellow heathen drove onward – then, all at once, dust, thrown and cascading along the air, began to explode. Quick, swift madness, hot coils of ember and fire, horrific smells stoked against his nostrils, shocking burns snaking along his shoulders and chest, dark patches of powder falling to his feet.
He maneuvered rapidly to the right, away from the exploding cretin, away from the bubbling, murky crater, hooves grazing the earth with an indignant plunge, irked and annoyed that he hadn’t registered the other stag’s mage capabilities. He’d waited too long, had lingered too much. Teeth ground down in his jaw, and the sizzling, blistering brands fanning over his skin further ignited a maddening, aching need to shatter, wreck and ruin. But his scheming mind, the Machiavellian design, incensed into the heated duel, ran with a rampant toiling – this Ricochet, smaller, and likely lighter than himself, had been heavy on his front, driving onward in a flattened state, then leaping away from the gurgling lava rim. Would he be fast enough to avoid the sinister wake of Deimos’s assault? The dark cadence of his magic boiled, enriched by the infusion of loathing intertwined in his bitter formation, until he felt the raw tenor of its atrocious, ghastly motif – and for once, he cherished it, this savage, lethal spell that rendered enemies incomplete, breathless, and perished. He swept across the grounds, felt the dry earth beneath his feet, circling the court of opposition, powder, dust and withered terrain, and allowed the grip of his bestial enchantments to wreak havoc on its parched tomb. It swarmed from his body like a restless, ferocious villain, invisible strings touching the shriveled land with an indignant, vicious caress, rigid stare watching as the landscape began to crumble, crack, and break beneath the devil’s stroke. His wizardry devoured what little life the territory had to offer, driving a silent siege of malicious divination, as it licked the edge of the burning heart and further toiled into the dank dirt, splitting the earth with each pervading fondle of death – aiming straight for the ground his enemy stood upon, while he witnessed from a formidable distance. Would this foe fall into the earth as the land collapsed under his form? Would he taste the fire of the magma brewing beneath their feet?
[1/2 – Deimos was burned on his chest and shoulders from the gunpowder thrown at him. Swinging his body to the right, he encircled Ricochet, choosing a place away from the edge. He then used his deadly magic to crumble the earth from the rim of the Heart to Ricochet, aiming for the land to collapse beneath his enemy’s feet. Please let me know if anything is unclear. :3]
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
The ground was falling.
It was the only thing that registered in Ricochet's mind as his limbs churned for a brief and terrifying moment on a lip of air. Fore hooves scrabbled for purchase on the ground ahead as his haunches quivered and kicked at the increasing edge line, his body just a heartbeat ahead of the plummeting ground. Madness spun an urgency into Ricochet's movements that had originally only been preemptive in getting him away from the range of that horn. Now he was either going to haul ass or learn to fly and he'd be dammned if he had anything that much in common with a pegasus. Ricochet just barely grabbed purchase with his hind hooves. That helped shoot him forward, narrowly avoiding the gaping maw of the Heart and eventually sent him tripping over his hooves whose speed and balance he could not maintain. His left shoulder fell first, skin scraping away on the rough and dry ground leaving behind a read streak as the rest of his body tumbled over in a series of two rolls. Ricochet bounded back to his hooves before even bothering to blink, immediately spinning around to face the earth unicorn, for Ricochet assumed that was what his magic related to, in case he was hot on his heels with an assault. To Ricochet's surprise the stupid horn-head was casually standing by the unruined segment of the Heart.
Ricochet took that moment of respite to breathe. He felt for the first time the amount of damage done to him as his breath pushed on his lungs, an ache from being slapped into the ground at a gallop. His shoulder had a surface scratch that would not even leave a scar worth talking about. His haunches however, burned with muscles taxed and a hint of a strain as as his left haunch struggled to bear his weight. Ricochet flicked his tail with displeasure, but obliged his injury by cocking a hip. He didn't think the unicorn could usurp the earth from under him this far away, as he had inevitably out run the decaying ground, but in a similar fashion Ricochet could't ignite his powder from this far.
Reluctant to approach further, if only because the power house of his movements was damaged, Ricochet nonetheless deigned himself to the inevitable with a heavy sigh. He would have to be more cautious now that his element of surprise had been lost, although he still had one bang left in him. Despite lacking a great deal of tact, Ricochet was not a stupid stallion by any means, even if others would be happy to argue otherwise. He had training and potential, and even with his reckless nature he maintained self preservation. No matter how pissed off Ricochet would not willingly charge into an untimely death, the world needed him far too much for that.
At a slow, limping walk the dunskin began to approach Deimos once more. As he moved he tugged at the ground near the unicorn's goat-feet, waiting with every passing second for the ground to begin to shift as his range fed his magic into it. Part of his previously shifted ground remained, but some had already fallen away and Deimos stood at a distance from the rim now. Although it was a similar attempt to drown the stallion in the beating heart of this land, he would not abandon his pre-laid trap when his own physical body was provoking its limits so early. This was certainly a formidable foe, and with every step he well remembered the chaotic terror he'd just survived - every hoof placement was a precarious drift closer towards the ground falling away. Who's range would prove wider, who's mind sharper?
There.
Ricochet tugged and the brown earth shifted to the shiny black. The scar snarled on his face as he grinned, continuing to change the dirt as he walked closer still, tempting fate and laughing in the face of death for the opportunity of fireworks. There has to be a finale doesn't there?
Satisfied that the ground was dark enough and that his time was soon spent, Ricochet halted. His grin only grew, if such were possible, while he whispered a frail, nearly meaningless word onto the wind.
"Boom."
The ground detonated in a wide radius that touched the perimeter of the fire pit. The explosion would surely cause the rim to begin to crumble and slide into itself, and combined with the already unsteady splinter in the edge that Deimos had caused, it just might avalanche into a greater yawning of destruction. With any luck Deimos would be swallowed into the furnace. Now that would be a spectacular end that Ricochet would be happy to enjoy.
[2/2 - 797 words - Ricochet barely avoids falling to his D00M and instead falls on his shoulder and strains his left leg. He has to get closer to finish his first trap however so walks closer, if a bit shy of doing so, shifting the dirt as he does and finally exploding it around Deimos in the hopes of also causing the dirt to crumble and make Deimos fall in and DIE muahahah.]
R I C O C H E T - -
blam, you're dead
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| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
This enemy was fast. For one that never had to rely on speed, only stealth, control and dominance from his own coarse intimidation and murderous plumes, Deimos loathed admitting this heinous, nagging notion grinding at his core. The bleak assertion nudged at him, incredulous and persistent, knowing that the dun’s sharpness and haste was voracious, keen and ravenous. He was deprived once more of necessary time to truly avoid the turmoil of the battlefield – the exploding, burning sensations scorched his corrupted being, touched, licked at the new, callous wounds sprouting and simmering upon his silver barrel, chest and forelegs. The cracking, resentful earth, deprived of its livelihood, spirit, and breath, split more from the indulgent, combusted filaments, unwinding, unraveling from its burst depths, a ruptured heart overflowing with rage. He shifted quickly, long, dark pillars twisting to the left, shirking the severed slabs of land he’d just haunted, feeling the terrain shift under his weight, unsteady, wavering, eager to taste his immoral flesh. He nearly tripped, the scrape of the earth, and then dry, scalding air graced his hooves, and he pushed off from whatever purchase he could ensnare, swiftly, rapidly before his life was stolen by boiling, grasping, clawing heat. Escape relied on speed, and in the anarchic, bedlam recoil, his movements, powerful, undulating muscles, absconded the scape, until he’d received enough range to escape the culmination of destruction. Only when the explosions ceased and fuse became ash had he truly felt he’d slipped from the gunpowder’s puissant, predacious noose. The aching, searing blisters torn across his hide were enough of a brutal reminder that he was not the only one capable of committing terror and devastation without a single touch.
Now, of course, he had to return the favor.
He breathed, deeply, regaining the essence of a refined, controlled colossus, demonstrating the dignified finesse of a stoic, nonchalant composure, no matter how intensely his frame fumed, seethed and smoldered from new ailments, old blows and the frustration that the equine’s close presence was ultimately wasted. Raising his noble, sword-bearing head, he drew back into his necromancy, settling into the cool armaments of a lethal fortitude, feeling the whisper of death flowing through his veins. It brimmed ghostly enchantments within his soul, sang unholy, licentious requiems in his ears, pulsed in his limbs until it finally unfurled, wicked, heinous doldrums reigning from the silent, twisted insurrection of a cold-blooded demon. Sweeping over the land again, the fatal, toxic magic plunged for the golden stag, embroiled and infused with the intangible strings of fury and ardor, phantasmal, wraithlike, and ethereal in its bestial glory. A savage masterpiece, it aimed for the vicious opponent, pushing, demanding, and propelling its nefarious thrust towards the gilded body. Like a wall of demise, the noxious sorcery eagerly fostered a panel of pernicious, reaper design, attempting to press Ricochet’s frame into extermination, death in one, sly breath, or damnation into the rim of bubbling, molten lava.
[2/2 Deimos gains new burns along his barrel, lower chest and forelegs due to Ricochet’s explosions. He barely outruns the crackling, crumbling earth, and settles off to Ricochet’s left, where he builds a wall of deadly magic designed to either render his enemy dead, or push him towards Helovia’s center of lava. Please let me know if anything is unclear. Again. :3]
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
There is a certain satisfaction that comes with watching your opponent scramble for survival. It brought a sinister grin to the dun's ruined face and he wondered if this must be how a fox feels every time it chases a hare?
The hare got away this time.
A victorious smile quickly faltered to a scowl as the unicorn just barely avoided the crater growing largely behind them. A furious forelimb strikes out at the dry, dead ground in frustration while ears set back at the pain that gnaws with all too much reminder up his haunch. Ricochet cannot press on, not with a busted leg and an aching in the back of his head where the use of his magic pressed like a hot weight upon him.
Turning to leave this battlefield, Ricochet was surprised by the overwhelming force that suddenly shoved against him. In his haste to berate himself and mourn the continued existence of a unicorn, he'd forgotten the swordsman altogether; part of him had just assumed the lucky buck would flee with his life whilst it remained. That was his arrogant part.
This was his 'oh shit' part.
Eyes widened in the brief seconds that Ricochet had to understand his fatal error, and then he was pushed over.
It felt stronger than wind, more solid in a way, and certainly more cold than even the deepest blizzard blows. It swept into his core and left him a shuddering, hollowed thing as he lay on his right side, having toppled over and then slid to the rim of the Heart. His tail swung freely over the fire pit and though it seemed due to burst into flames at any moment, Ricochet was shivering.
His mind swam in confusion and fear. Never before had he faced something that imposed such a direct threat as this unicorn. Ricochet felt in every fiber of his being as if he'd been forcibly removed from his body and then equally so slammed back into it. Something had happened. Ricochet couldn't truly grasp what the feeling was, but it had been terrible and it had been mighty and he feared for that presence to return.
Gasping like a fish on dry land the stallion came back to himself in the matter of heartbeats, though it felt like an eternity that he lay suffocating, freezing, dying. Perhaps a weaker soul would have been snuffed out, but the Incendiary was a flame that burned too strongly. He bowed beneath the cold exhale, glowing brighter in the absence of it.
The sounds of cracking ground set his legs kicking. Just as the rim crumbled into oblivion Ricochet leapt up, a grunt pressing between his teeth as the exertion and the pain threatened to keep him down in this most dire need. Nervously he stepped away from the burning edge, no longer trusting what seemed sound enough to hold him when much of it had be rearranged in this short span. "Damn," he swore beneath his breath, clenching his teeth as his body seemed to throb in rhythm with his pulse. Everything ached now. A plethora of bruises were spawning under his hide where he'd been pummeled into the dirt. His lame haunch was worse now, having needed to call on it when he risked being the crispy Incendiary.
More than anything though, Ricochet felt wholly and completely exhausted. He trembled as he stood because his muscles seemed unable to hold him up or his joints to lock in place. His eyes were heavy and his heart like lead nestled in his chest. Were it for anything other than a stubborn conviction to be strong, Ricochet would have crumpled into the ground here and now and happily slept.
Warily he cast his gaze to the strange unicorn. The remainders of that event, whatever it had been, left Ricochet more shaken up than he'd ever felt. Teal eyes were sharp with questions and wonder, but primarily, hate. Most of all Ricochet felt slighted that he'd been lied to - this was not an earth unicorn.
Whatever he was, Ricochet made him a target now.
"I'll kill you next time." He whispered, his gaze unwavering from the dark sword.
Where a brush with death might paralyze some it only fed Ricochet a fabulous high. That and he simply could not let something that deadly with a horn continue to exist.
[closing defense - 730 words - gets slammed onto his right side and pushed almost over the cliff. Scrambles up before it breaks beneath his weight. His entire body is bruised and a great weariness fills him.]
R I C O C H E T - -
blam, you're dead
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| Administrator |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
| Official |
09-24-2012, 04:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-25-2012, 04:12 PM by Tamme.)
RICOCHET v. DEIMOS
By my verdict TIE is the winner.
RICOCHET - POST 1
[+ 3] Prose:
Ricochet is present as always in this post, and his emotions are well controlled and understood. He is comical and at the same time deadly serious, which is ultimately enjoyable for the reader. This post was never disjointed, and aside from minor typos, you had made no noticeable errors in grammar.
+ 1: emotion
+ 1: flow
+ 1: grammar
[+ 2] Ease of Read:
I never was confused as to what Ricochet was doing, how he was doing it, or why.
[+ 4] Realism:
+ 1: Use of his magic is sort of a surprise in this post, as Deimos would not be expecting it.
+ 1: Very realistic description of movement and the impact of sudden halt has on his body.
+ 1: You kept in mind the spatial confinements in your post. You were aware of the edge, minded it, and included it in your post.
+ 1: Good description of how his magic is working, along with the wave of gunpowder Ricochet tosses into the air with his stop.
DEIMOS - POST 1
[+ 3] Prose:
It's hard to classify Deimos as having emotion because for the most part, he does not. However, you use more than enough colorful and interesting language to make up for your character's stoic personality. You never escape the realms of who Deimos is, and your post is very well organized in terms of flow and grammar.
+ 1: emotion
+ 1: flow
+ 1: grammar
[+ 1] Ease of Read:
The first time I read through this post, I was a little confused about the edge of the Heart crumbling. It is written beautifully, but I feel like your description got overly crowded which took away from how easily I could determine the actual action. However, I had little to no trouble comprehending this post.
[+ 3] Realism:
+ 1: Using magic to crumble the edge where Ricochet is standing was clever, and indirect sort of way of using Deimos's ability.
+ 1: Analyzing the movements of your opponent and using them to your benefit.
+ 1: Describing the damage dealt from Ricochet's magic was done well.
0: I did not get the continuous picture that I would have liked from his magic due to the heavy use of adjectives and figurative language. While these are good attributes to writing, in high quantities the reader can get bogged down, which is what happened to me during your post.
RICOCHET - POST 2
[+ 3] Prose:
The sense of urgency in this post is wonderful, and fits true to what should occur when the earth is being stolen from beneath you. Ricochet still manages to make me laugh, just because his inner thought processes are quite comical even in dire situations like this. As usual, you have good flow and grammar skills.
+ 1: emotion
+ 1: flow
+ 1: grammar
[+ 2] Ease of Read:
I was always aware of what Ricochet was doing, and never got lost in your post.
[+ 3] Realism:
0: I thought it was odd that you didn't have Ricochet respond to the injury that he had dealt Deimos in this post, but I can kind of understand why you wanted to delve straight into the ground falling to make it more dramatic, I ultimately did not take off for it.
+ 1: You accurately and thoroughly explain the injuries that Ricochet sustains. You keep them present and in mind during your whole post.
+ 1: Shift over from arrogance to caution after his slip and nearly falling into a fire pit.
+ 1: Planning to detonate the earth to make Deimos fall into the Heart.
0: I would have like to see more a description of what his magic is doing. I see that he changes the dirt and explodes it, but I feel like you could have stressed this part more.
DEIMOS - POST 2
[+ 3] Prose:
Your writing is very beautiful in this post, and not surprisingly it flows well and does not have any grammatical errors that pop out and slap me in the face. Deimos is very cool and collected in this post, but we do see a crack in his calm behavior in the moment that the earth starts to crumble away. I do think it could have had a more urgent feeling, but overall I was surprised with how much Deimos responded to it as it was.
+ 1: emotion
+ 1: flow
+ 1: grammar
[+ 2] Ease of Read:
I had a much easier time understanding what was going on in this post, despite the fact that his magic was more abstract than it was in the last use.
[+ 4] Realism:
+ 1: Injuries are kept present in mind and mentioned in your post.
+ 1: Deimos quickly regains his composure, true to his character.
+ 2: Your description of his abstract magical wall of death was written so well. I actually loved it. A lot.
RICOCHET - CLOSING DEFENSE
[+ 2] Realism:
+ 1: You carry Ricochet's injuries well in this post. Really well. I get a sense of what toll this battle has taken upon him, and that is really what closing defenses are about, after the response to the last attacks.
+ 1: Your reaction to Deimos's magic is powerful, well written, and clear.
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BONUS
[- 1]RICOCHET:
- 2: Late penalty for closing defense.
+ 1: You made me laugh at every single post, with just Ricochet being Ricochet.
[+ 2] DEIMOS:
+ 2: I thought it was immensely creative to use Deimos's magic in such a way as to crumbe the earth. I never would have thought that it could be used in such a way.
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TOTALS
RICOCHET: 28
DEIMOS 28
Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
| Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire
Heather |
Congratulations Blu! And thank you judge. XD I love knowing what I need to work on.
| Administrator |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
| Official |
Both of you shall go on! Congratulations!
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