the Rift


[JUDGED] Dancing in the Backyard [Elsa]

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#1
Round two motherfuckers. The last with Dröm was fun, but it wasn't what I really needed. She gave up way too easily, leaving me lacking in the practice that is essential. No, there are no wars right now, no defensive that I need to prepare or offense that I need to lead. But the feeling of being unprepared is like an itch under my skin that I just can't scratch. Though Oxy and I have our disagreements, I sense that he feels the same as I do. No, we need to step things up. We need regular sparring, practicing for whatever might come. Dröm did not fulfill that need. Since then, Oxy and I have put our thick skulls together and come up with a plan. Seasonal spars are the answer, and I've been paired this Tallsun with Elsa. I'm not wasting any time. My hooves pound into the warm, hard earth of the Falls as I make my way toward the lake. This is the last place I met with Elsa, by the lake. She was recovering from our last spar (when she kicked my ass), and also from a fight that left her without one eye. Damaris trots behind me, curious to see us spar. 'You were just a little pup when Elsa and I sparred for the first time.' Damaris is calm but curious. 'She was my first spar, actually.'

Damaris bounds ahead, her tail wagging as she moves toward the edge of the lake. I don't want to remind her that Elsa kicked my ass. But she probably remembers anyway. 'You fought well, Rosti.' She speaks into my mind calmly and with no rebuke or mocking. Thank goodness, I don't need my beloved companion to be mocking me along with Oxy and who knows else. She barks at me, and I look up from the ground that I had been staring at as I walked. The sun is bright and I squint to see ahead. Cloud cover is moving over - the conditions for a fight should be good. Not too hot, not cold, not rainy and not too sunny with the clouds. A perfect summer day. After a moment I see what it is Damaris is barking about - Elsa, up ahead, minding her own business by the water's edge. The pale-as-snow mare decorated with blue... and what's this, snow about her? A new magic for her then, I should congratulate her. But perhaps now is not that time. First I should destroy her, and afterward I can assuage her pain with compliments.

A zephyr flies around her, her companion that I'm nots sure I've ever met. Damaris watches it, trying to keep an eye on it in case it should attack me in our spar. I get closer and announce myself. I'd love to go for a surprise attack, but I feel that would be bad sportsmanship. That, and to be frank, I have more respect for Elsa than that. I believe she deserves more of a chance than that, to defend herself fair and square. "Elsa!" I call out and stop several yards away, facing the water and Elsa. "It's time, Comrade, for us to test our strength again." That's enough warning, right? Damaris braces herself and bares her teeth silently, ready for whatever may come, standing by my side in support.

I charge toward her, my thick legs pounding into the ground, two-toned mane flying in my self-created wind. When I first arrived, she was facing the lake, and I was aimed toward her left side from behind. I hope that she doesn't move, and that her blindness in the one eye somehow aids me. I slide to a halt when I'm nearly next to her, my hooves tearing up grass as I do so. I raise up on my haunches, front hooves flying, coming down like scythes toward her barrel and the back of where her wing connects on her side. Perhaps I can bruise her or slice her up, nothing that a healer and some time can't fix, of course - I don't wish Elsa any serious damage. She is my kinsman after all. Damaris stays back, not wanting to interfere with my attack or join in until the time is right. 'I shall win, my love, and balance everything out. No general should lose to his mason.'

725 words
@[Elsa]
Attack 1/3


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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

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
#2

Elsa
My head's underwater, but i'm breathing fine.
She had forgotten how sparring affected her. It made her feel alive, like she was truly of flesh and blood. Midas had been the one to break her from the bout of baby blues. Once again, she was back in action, so to speak. Her skills had been sharpened once more, and the dull blade of battle was now shining in full glory. So when the chance came to help train with the warriors, she jumped on it. Not only would it give her something to do, but now she could prove that she was much more than just the herd’s mason. She was a woman who should be as respected as both a crafter and a kickass.

No longer was she a meek girl. The cages of a blind eye had finally let her go. Now she was free to kick as much butt, and shame any man, she could lay her hooves on. Rostislav just so happened to be the victim of the day. Not that it was her choice, for Oxy and him had to have paired the warriors off. He was probably trying to salvage his man card, since she had kind of left him a tad sore. She on the other hand, walked away happy as a peacock.

This situation proved as an ante up. He had grown stronger as a Legatus. All the while she had only managed to lose an eye. The playing field would be much closer this time. Thus, she decided on taking a different approach. She needed to arrive early, and have him attack her. Elsa had become far too predictable by running at everyone head on. So now, it was her turn to try a different maneuver.

Picking up a brisk trot, she approached the lake. Peering into the water, what looked back at her was a woman she was so unfamiliar with. Granted, summer was never that great for her, but now she looked so out of place. Snow settled around her before dissolving in silence. She blinked once, trying to re-learn the lines of her face. She hadn’t seen herself since the incident. Now instead of two sparkling blue eyes, a sickening white one took over. It looked like someone had taken a slightly transparent white paint and decided to recolor her eye. It was hideous. Scars other than that, littered her face. They were scrapes from scuffles, fear, and everyday klutziness. Edgar, who had been silently sitting upon her head, actually remained silent. He could see into her mind, and how beautiful she used to be. He shifted, taking flight from her head to perch above the field in the nearby tree line. She needed some time before this fight to settle into her groove.

Elsa pulled away reluctantly. The reflection was right; she was no longer the queen. She was the loyal servant under the Helovian crowned leaders. Thus, it was her duty to pull out of this fight victorious. Midas and Ghost deserved someone who could hold their own. Inhaling slowly, she began to turn only to be greeted with the sound of Rostislav’s voice. She stopped, not turning to face him.

A small smug smile creeped over her face. He had been so thoughtful as to warn her. Though that warning was not enough, for Edgar screeched. Rostislav was running at her blind side. Her left was bare and exposed. She can hear every blunt thud as he thunders towards her. Turning, she refuses to take damage to the left. She needs to keep him within view. Flipping, she can see how close he is. He had been coming from the back, but now that she had flipped, he was coming at her face. Flinching at the closeness, Elsa braces herself for impact, locking her legs. Yet, she is not hit like a train. Instead, she opens up from her flinch only to see Rostislav looming over her. His hooves kick out at her face, and she yelps, launching herself forward. His hooves come down upon her right wing, tearing it away from her side. She screams, and she can feel the muscle pull and stretch. The joint aches, and it falls limp against her side. The damn fool had grounded her! Feathers dragging on the ground, she doesn’t look back as she pulls an ice spike from the ground. She wants it to pierce his stomach. If he wanted to play dirty, she would give it right back. Circling, she then tries to run at his right side. Gaining as much momentum as she could muster in the short distance, she raises herself up. If she can shove all the momentum and speed into her front legs, she could ground him. Lets see if the drunk can withstand a couple of pushes.

"their speech goes here and this is the color"
[800 Words || 1/3 Attacks || @[Rostislav]

code © tamme, picture © chan
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#3
She doesn't answer me, and I wonder if I should be suspicious of her silence. Probably, but I don't take the time to make such a decision and a reaction. It's fight mode and any thinking beyond that is quite compromised right now. Her companion screeches in warning, and as I approach Elsa turns to meet my attack. She spins toward me, guarding her vulnerabilities. It's smart to protect weaknesses, perhaps, but turning toward your attacker might not always be a great idea either, especially when it meets hooves flying in your face. But that's her poor decision, not mine, and she must suffer the consequences. Luckily for her, she balks just enough to avoid the risk of losing another eye. My hooves come down, slicing at her other wing, wounding it enough that as I land on the hard ground, I can see that it falls limp at her side.

I hadn't expected that level of success, honestly, and a grim smile sneaks onto my face, unbidden but welcome. It's a good start and I feel triumph flow through my veins. But the feeling is short-lived, interrupted by a howl and a shout in my mind: 'MOVE ROSTI!' Damaris sees it before I do, and I jump back and out of the way, not sure what it is I'm moving away from until a spike of ice rises from the ground just in front of my face. I snort and half-rear with surprise (and perhaps from a bit of nerves, too). Oh, shit, the woman is gonna get me! I got lucky, to say the least, that Damaris saw what was happening in time for me to escape being impaled. But the snow queen isn't done with me, not just yet. I look to my right to see her surging toward me. Her hooves come at me, just as mine had come at her, but my reflexes prove quicker, better, whatever the cause.... I back away, leaving her hooves slicing through the thin air and once again my nose is facing a near-missed danger.

The combination of the heat of Tallsun and the exertion given for attack and defense leaves a sheen of sweat on my hide, darkening the chocolate and charcoal fur. My reddening nostrils flare, spreading wide as I suck air into my lungs. I need all the oxygen I can get, to fuel my muscles and my mind. Strategy. Try to think, Rosti, you need to think! My tail whips through the air as if it is supposed to propel my brain power. 'GO!' Damaris clearly doesn't believe in my ability to strategize and wants me to move on impulse. With Elsa's miss, any battle rage I might have felt remains dormant inside. I want to win this spat, but I don't want to take her out. This is no challenge for mate, rank, or land. There's no argument to settle or honor to be defended. This is just practice, and I suppose the only thing that swirls inside is pride to be defended or damaged. 'It's not personal Elsa, it's just a job.' Damaris yaps in my mind, urging me to shut up. This is not the time for reminiscing or validating. Only action - and CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

I lunge forward in front of me at where I expect her neck to me. Again I'm approaching from her left side, but this time you can't say I am to blame - she put herself in this position! Her lean, muscled neck is ripe for my teeth, and I hope to bruise or scrape the skin off the cremello skin. I think that I'm successful, but maybe I'm just grinding on my own enamel. I step back quickly, wanting to remove myself from immediate range, hoping that perhaps it will make it more difficult for her to get back at me for tarnishing her good looks - first the wing, and now maybe her beautiful nape as well! My thick body doesn't move fast, and she's much more agile than I am. I pray that I can pull this off as well as she manages to spin on point!

690 words
@[Elsa]
Attack 2/3


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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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
#4

Elsa
My head's underwater, but i'm breathing fine.
Once again the ice doesn’t turn red. It stands there, clear and perfect. How had he avoided that? Her eyes bore into the damn dog. That had to be it. Elsa knew how Edgar, albeit cocky and immature, would still warn her when danger was near. Anger rose within her heart, beginning to heat her veins. Her ignorance was costing her too much. In a tangled mess of flying mane, she rises onto her hind hooves. The momentum she had gained pushing at him like train. Her wing, falling painfully limp against her side was screaming; however, not loud enough. The adrenaline coursing through her body dulled the pain, leaving it feeling almost as if it had never existed.

It flopped against her side as she suddenly hit against something hard. It jarred her knees, sending an electric shock up the front of her legs. This was not the soft flesh she had been hoping to sink into. Her wing glances against the ground, and she is suddenly reminded of all the pain he had caused… In such little time! A strangled cry of rage boils up out of her throat like a screaming teapot. She will not lose to him. "Fuck you." She mutters. He may be the legatus, but she is the mason. Rocks bend to her will, and ice will strike on her command. He was just a lowly man who thought himself fit enough to lead! How dare he! Just because she was better suited for another position, did not mean she was not a legatus in her heart. She was built for this. She could not fail. It would be a hideous scar of humiliation, branded upon her forever.

The white bird could not stand idle any longer. Her humiliation was his, and he would not allow that. Such a prestigious zephyr as himself could not let that weight fall upon him. Watching Rostislav reach in towards his Elsa’s left side, he goes in for the kill. With a squawk of rage, he extends his talons and aims towards Rostislav’s face. Once he thinks he is just above the legatus, he forces down, trying to push his talons into Rostislav’s face while simultaneously boosting himself back into the sky. One perk of wings; danger could be avoided by those not endowed.

Elsa could hear, and feel the rage within Edgar. She didn’t respond to his feelings, for she could already feel how he was coming down towards their opponent. Rostislav had ended up on her blind side again, and so she relied on the images sent by Edgar. He was reaching towards her face! He wanted to mar her again. Hell no bastard. Who do you think you are?! Reaching her face around, she turns to bite at his incoming neck. If he wanted to give her little love bites, she would give them right back. Hoping she had landed, she turns to face in front of her again. She is ready to get out of the way of his teeth. Just then, his ivory grass-smashers clamp down upon the skin of her neck. It isn’t a lot, but the little he managed to grasp sent a screaming hot bullet into her skin. It hurt, so bad. It immediately began bruising as he pulled away. In his wake, he left a purpling, disgusting oblong circle on her pale skin.

Fine then, if he was so eager for her to stay, she would. Plus, her front legs hurt and she wanted to get off them again. Rearing up, she pivoted to hopefully face him before he could retreat. Aiming for his horns and face, she kicked out with all the force she could wrangle up. He was not going to win so easily. In fact, in her mind, he would not win at all. If she believed in herself, she thought she could force his fate upon him. Then, she would win, and he would walk away sulking. That would be the icing that would overpower the taste of bitterness left by his attacks.

"their speech goes here and this is the color
[@[Rostislav] || 2/3 || 678 Words]

code © tamme, picture © chan
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#5
Why should she be pleased? She shouldn't. As Elsa comes down to the ground instead of slamming into me, I can only IMAGINE her fury. I've evaded her attack and she's in the perfectly proximity for a sharp bite from me. Except that I don't have to imagine for long as she emits a strangled cry of rage, and a 'fuck you' passes those beautiful, delicate lips. Damaris yelps again, trying to warn me of the danger that I fail to see from above. Elsa's companion - still unnamed to me - dive bombs me from the sky. The zephyr surely empathizes with his bonded and wishes me no shortage of arm. My companion's warning is too late, and the claws of the winged creature slice against my left ear, narrowly missing the horns that otherwise protect my skull. I growl in pain but continue forward in my attack, hurting but undeterred. I think that perhaps I shall bite a bit harder, if I can, in retaliation for the blood that dribbles down my dark ear.

She turns her head to snap at me, but I dodge her teeth, twisting my head to the side so that her ivories snap just next to my cheek. When her delicate crown turns forward again my teeth make contact, biting hard on her pale skin. 'It's not personal, I swear.' More or less.... but isn't it a bit of a lie? After all, I did just try to bite her harder because of her companion. That does suggest that this IS personal. No more thoughts are given to the matter, and I put my attention toward removing myself from her range of attack, at least as best I can. But she's quick like a snake and despite the pain I might've (must've) inflicted, she turns to catch me as I leave.

My flints carve into the ground below as I try to back pedal, hoping to avoid her. My pale eyes watch in growing anxiety as Elsa turns and rises up again on her hind feet, her front hooves coming down hard and fast at my face. I squeal: the only reaction I can get out before her icy hooves meet my soft, warm flesh. Her hoof catches my right cheek, slicing a layer of skin from it, and her knees knock me away with a very, very sore jaw. I fall to the left, a shout of agony piercing the air. Who is that, screaming like a little girl? Oh.... it's me.

It takes a moment for me to brace myself, and I feel tears prick in my eyes from the searing pain of exposed flesh on my cheek. For certain, it will be come a new scar. I snap my head toward her, eyes narrowing at her snowy form. Now. Now I'm mad. I feel Damaris's mutual rage and pain surge along with mine. I have one more thing that she has yet to see. One more tool off my workbench that I have yet to utilize. I plant my hooves firm in the turf and take a deep breath as I focus all my energy into the ground. A familiar feeling rises inside me, one of strength and power that make every ounce of my being into.. a super power. The ground cracking, rumbling, creaking, crumbling - sod and rock rise from the soft, summer ground and into the air the height of my withers. With a roar of fury and determination, I send the weapons of the Earth at Elsa. Anger inside fuels my attack, anger that the mason has wounded me so, and that my pride might possibly suffer as great a wound at the end of all this.

618 words
@[Elsa]
Attack 3/3


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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

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
#6

Elsa
My head's underwater, but i'm breathing fine.
The excitement that rushes through Edgar as he cuts into Rostislav’s ear is palpable. Elsa is immediately thrust into a torn state. She is angry, whilst her bonded is experiencing an immense amount of joy. A small, bitter congratulation is relayed to Edgar from Elsa. She cannot dwell on his success though, because her emotions were much more overpowering than his happy one. Darkness tends to fade out the light, both literally and figuratively.

The dark Rostislav had already managed to blacken her own pale skin. The disgusting bruise was her newest addition, and it continued to pulse just out of the reach of her jugular. As her body rose into the air, Elsa was prepared for another failure. It seemed that lately that was all that came from her. Attack after attack was sloppy, and not lined up. Instead of hurting them, she ended up hurting herself. This time, her hooves found purchase. The limited vision she was given stripped her of the fruit of watching him cringe in pain. Instead, she was left to savor the delicious catches. Each nick and bump slowly adding a little more sugar to this fight. This was turning to be a lot sweeter of a fight than she had originally predicted. Even as her wing still flopped limp against her side, the pulled and strained muscle was fading into the background of her glory. What is gain without pain?

Her legs finally fall against the ground. A jolt of pain rushes up her front legs, a horrid reminder that he still in fact had the upper hand. She may be grasping onto the straws that furthered her glory, but that was far from making her a victor. Rostislav must know that, because before she knew it, the ground was shaking. Her eye shoots upward from the ground, towards the epicenter. There stands Rostslav, in all his undeserved glory. The ground rises around him like he is a god. No you drunk, the power of the earth is hers.

A cry of outrage, terror and determination tears through the creaking of the earth. This is a massive wall of dirt, and she can see no outlet. This was her doom, was it? Elsa found humorous irony in this, that she would fall under the weight of the earth and rock she had so often crushed on a daily basis. Maybe the Earth God was trying to prove some sick point that she was not supposed to be here at all. Or, maybe the God was just jealous. That would be quite the story to tell if she made it out alive. Edgar could already see the headlines now, and he squawked from his perch on the tree he had originated from.

Suddenly, Elsa had an idea. In order to stop this madness, she needed to attack it at its source. Rushing forward, she dove into the oncoming debris. The dirt was the easiest to avoid, by a simple downward angle of her head much of the dry Tallsun dirt rushed straight over her head. The few paces between her and Rostislav, however, seemed to be just far enough. As she tried to dive near him, a stray rock blows past her right shoulder. At first, she believes it to be just a bruise, but as dirt starts to conglomerate, she knows its much more. The more dirt that rushes past, the more she knows. The rock had cut a jagged two-inch wound into her shoulder. It was deep enough to bleed. The dirty red blood stuck like gelatin and fell in globs down her shoulder. In the whirlwind of dirt, it stung to high heaven.

She cannot stop though; she knows she needs her momentum. Trying to angle herself in front of Rostislav, to lock chests with him, she decides to try something new. At the moment she thinks she makes contact with him, she summons and ice wall behind where she believes him to be. It comes up to the height of where Elsa’s hock is. With the combination of her momentum, height, and strong hindquarters she hopes she can push him back into the ice wall. If she’s lucky, he’ll become quite the grounded pony if he is smashed into it. Elsa knew better than anyone just how painful the cold could be. It may be a respite in Tallsun, but would it have the same effect when embedded into the fiber of his being? For Elsa’s sake, she hoped this would push him over the edge. She needs to grasp one more victory, falling to him would be another shameful mark on her career.

[@[Rostislav] || 3/3 || 774 Words]

code © tamme, picture © chan
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#7
My attention is fixated on the ground around me, the earth shaking as I maneuver its pieces into the air. It saps me of energy as I concentrate, using my will with the magic of the Gods to hurl what I've gathered at my enemy. 'My enemy.' She isn't that, is she? She's a fellow member of the Falls, she cannot be what I accuse her of being. And yet in this moment she IS my enemy, my opposition, the antagonist to my protagonist. You simply cannot root for both sides in a spar. The bits of earth fly at Elsa, the 'oh-so-innocent' mason, and her surprise at my attack I expected. The look I see upon her face I expected. I did NOT expect her physical response.

Instead of trying to dodge, instead of screaming in pain or fear, she charges directly at me. It makes no sense, and in this way she has gained the upper hand. Confused, disoriented, how am I supposed to defend myself? I'm in the middle of an attack, and it is not so easy to just halt it at the drop of a hat. I have never tried, but I would assume there would be physical and psychological ramifications of terminating such a pinpointed and draining exertion. My own eyes widen, not sure exactly how I can respond to the pale queen. Through the floating, rushing matter I cannot see what damage I have caused, only the blinding sight of a snowy beast hastening toward me. Damaris howls through the debris, trying to warn me - but I can't tell what she's warning me of until it is too late.

I hear the strain of the ground, and something rising up behind me. My ears swivel back trying to make sense of it. 'Ice wall!' Damaris senses my confusion and shouts in my mind. It does me no good though, for I can't prevent its creation. Elsa slams into my chest, clearly trying to push me back against the wall that she has created. I grunt as she knocks into me, but I've stepped just a foot to the side, and she hits me at an angle. Instead of knocking me back directly into the wall, I spin off to the side. Her momentum causes me to hit the wall anyway, and I cut my hind left leg, the blood tricking delicately down my dirty hock. I lumber off as quickly as I can manage, a slight hitch in my gait reflecting my latest wound. The rubble that had been airborne falls to the ground, inanimate once more.

I'm exhausted, feeling the exertion from my attacks, both magical and otherwise. The wounds she has left me with - my hock and my cheek - are not life-threatening, but they burn savagely all the same. Should I see a healer? Probably not, but I will be happy to wait awhile before sparring again. I look forward to seeing what sort of scar forms on my cheek, and if the wound on my hock should prevent me from moving about as normal. I heave, trying to catch my breath, and Damaris runs to my side, eyeing Elsa with suspicion. A small snort slips through my nostrils before I speak. As always, Elsa, you have fought very well. It has been a pleasure... of sorts." I snort again at my choice of words. Sometimes, Rosti, your brain doesn't work so well.

572 words
@[Elsa]
defense, ready for judging


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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

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

ROSTISLAV
Realism [+2.5]
You have some great attack and defense responses, and even tied in surroundings well in your first post. I felt your damage was a bit off, being too weak in post 3 for a roll of 6, and too strong in post 4 for a roll of 1. I’d also love to see more of his stat/breed differences brought in to give more realism to his attacks/defenses.

Emotion [+2]
Loved your constant communication with the companion and references to trying the keep the spar light, but it growing personal as she grew so angry!


Prose [+3]
Great flow, imagery, and variety of words all throughout.


Readability [+2.5]
Very readable, just a few minor typos.

POST 2
“... I expect her neck to me.” (be)

POST 3
“...no shortage of arm.” (harm)


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

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

ELSA
Realism [+2]
I thought you took great damage and had good foundations for your attacks and defenses. What I needed was more detail to bring in greater realism, not only with explaining attacks and defenses, but tying in surroundings and breed differences to explain those attacks and defenses.


Emotion [+1]
I found myself wanting to understand her and her motives throughout the whole fight, especially her anger. Your final post seemed the most clear and detailed to me, emotional wise.


Prose [+2]
You have very nice writing, but sometimes it can get choppy with sentence structures and transition of ideas.


Readability [+2.5]
Easy to read, just a few grammar issues.

POST 1
“A small smug smile creeped over her face.” (crept)
“She can hear every blunt thud as he thunders towards her.” (tense change)

POST 2
“"Fuck you." She mutters.” (“Fuck you,” she mutters.)


Finally tally: 31.5+(7.5*2) = 46.5 HP


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