the Rift


[JUDGED] Let It Wash Away My Sanity [Rhoa Spar]

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#1
The humiliation.

It bled into everything she did. Every thought, every single movement was a horrid reminder of what had been lost. There was not a single waking moment that could return to the happy thoughts of the past. Her whole being was changed; the girl that she had tried to become now lay in shattered pieces all over the floor. In the wake of the disaster remained the sickening fluid of anger and rage that stained the immaculate being. It did not matter that Aaron had run, because in the end, the Falls had failed. Those who she even considered family had turned, jumping ship just to join in the glory of an ensured win. So like the wind, blood, and cries, the Falls buried them with their roaring power and spit them out like a piece of driftwood.

That’s what she had become, a drifter. The Ice Queen lacked a single shred of respect for any of them. She even went as far as to blame Midas and Ghost. Elsa had worked so hard to help them, and now, it did not matter. A spoken word of loyalty would not get her a home or job. To think, she had thought being a lowly Mason was a terrible lifestyle. Oh how wrong she was. Scarred, ugly and utterly alone was much, much worse. It was a fate she would have never wished on her most hated enemies.

All of this madness had left her feeling like a coiled spring. Any second she felt she could just turn and explode into a thousand pieces, destroying anything in her path. At least then she would be known for something, and that was worth going down in infamy for a thousand lifetimes. So where could she go to ferment, and let her emotions completely possess her body? Just losing control for once would be nice. No one to take care of, no one to worry about… In this situation, that was bliss. So where better to go, than to where it all began? The Deep Forest was as good as any place to be.

Thunder cracked overhead, spikes of lightening bolting across the sky. Her body was utterly soaked, even beneath the towering trees. The trees creaked, screamed, and rolled at the mercy of the storm. Another flash lit up the sky, revealing that she had finally made it to the center of the forest. A manic cry of laughter erupted from her lips like a fountain, almost sounding child-like in its tone. Looking up the sky, the rain poured over her face. It washed over the healing slice in her nose, before trailing around the curve of her neck and falling to the ground. Her mane and tail fell in dreadlocks, every so often catching and holding against her flesh. Her hooves sank with sloshy grace into the oversaturated earth. To think she had come here to relax in the pool. Falling victim to a thunderstorm felt a thousand times better. The release was euphoric. Her thoughts began to wander of what could possibly happen here. She could drown in the mud, and be struck with the force of a thousand volts. However, death was much better fit than living a life in misery.

"Talking"
@[Rhoa]
[Normal Spar Rules, In the center of the Deep Forest during a thunderstorm]
[0/3 Attacks, 544 Words, Rhoa can go at her first if he wishes. ^^]
Elsa
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rhoa Posts: 175
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 3 HP: 65 | Buff: ENDURE
Odd
#2

I don't know what has gotten into me. Well, that isn't true. On one level I know exactly what it is, I just don't know the name for it. It's this hostile mix of jealousy, and hate, and exaggerated self-pity. I'm sure you can see now when it's easier to say that I don't know what the feeling is. To admit that I do, is to admit that I've taken things way too far. I know I should stop. I should seek out a rational and appropriate way of dealing with my feelings rather than running headfirst into self destruction, but dammit this feels good. When this hate-induced high is over I'll be back in the real world, and will have to deal with my problems. But for now, I know that pain will drown it all out.

How do I know? Because of her. I don't know her name, only that she had come at me when I had asked for it. She had given me the ass-kicking of a lifetime (literally. But only because I had never had my ass kicked before). And you know what? As much as it hurt, there is nothing in the world that has filled me with more joy, than when I kicked her square in the face, and felt her body give way and her breath shoot in ragged bursts from her chest. What a horrifying thought, believe me I know. That's why I don't want to think about it - don't want to think about how fucked up I have let myself become. I just need to feel that high one more time, and then I'll deal with it.

Spoken like the start of a true junkie. But maybe it won't matter. Maybe no one will even be surprised. Son of Gaucho, likes to fight. Sounds like a real headline.

Not.

I came without warning, without provocation or care. I came hard and fast, or at least as hard and fast as I could through the mud. I felt my limbs straining to keep me balanced as I forced myself forward, ignoring the rain as it splattered my forelock into my eyes. I was too arrogant to fall in the mud - though using my slightly spread wings as balancing aids didn't hurt either. I think I heard myself scream, but I couldn't really be sure. All I could focus on was the smear of white, and the knowledge that I was about to get my fix. One way or another I would have it. Either old white smear would knock me so hard that adrenaline would soothe my aches, or I would knock her. I was an equal opportunity junkie - I'd take it or deal it, didn't matter to me.

But I would have it one way or another. Unless white smear was an extreme pacifist, I was fairly sure that anyone would try and kick the ass of some punk stallion who just attacks them out of nowhere.

I come at white smear (who I can now clearly see is a pegasus mare, despite the rain), from sort of an angle on her right side from behind. There's no strategy involved other than the fact that this is where my current trajectory had taken me. I'm bigger than her, but I don't really think about that - I don't have the experience to know what matters and what doesn't. All I know is I have speed on my side, which, given the terrible footing might not actually help.

Here goes nothing.

I aim to slam my left shoulder into her right side - somewhere just behind her shoulder. Without thinking, my jaw shoots forward to try and bite just behind the right side of her cheek.

WC: 623
Attack: 1/3


Image Credits

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#3
The rain rushed over her, clinging to the curves of her face and settling in the crevices of her scars. It should be cleaning away everything, but instead it was stripping every last bit of her to the bone. The water ripped at her happiness and love, pulling it painfully along as it made its descent to the ground. Even the lightening continued to bolt overhead, laughing at her. Yet, Elsa was not angry. Instead, a feeling reminiscent of thanksgiving crossed her mind. This rain was essentially giving her permission to lose it, and to fall to the whims of the most feral part of her mind. It even gave her the darkness to ferment in. There was little visibility, besides the flashing beast called electricity.

This is why she would have never seen the assassin in the shadows. Not to mention, his body was already hard to spot. Unlike he, Elsa was a freaking walking beacon with her white-ness and whatnot. So when he came running, she did not even see it coming. Rhoa hit like a truck. His body collided bony shoulder first into the soft flesh next to her wing, and right before her shoulder. With a gasp, she tried to inhale air as her knees locked. This little wannabe pinnacle was literally pushing her up and to the left with his weight. The earth beneath her squelched, and there was no traction for her to regain her footing on. She flings her head to the side, trying to discern who it was, when he suddenly clamped on the flesh near her cheek. It stung, like a giant wasp sting. Still gasping for the air that had been hit from her, Elsa turned away, hoping to rotate her butt to put Rhoa perpendicular to her hind legs. Pushing her weight down, Elsa tried to anchor her front feet into the ground as best as she could. With an airless cry, she lifted her hind legs and sent them flying towards this idiotic child. However, her weight slid forward, again forcing her to land her hooves into the sodden soil. Throwing her head back, she flipped the chunky forelock from her face and began to pivot on her hindquarters. If there was one thing she was somewhat thankful for, it was for the gift that her parents had given her. That just so happened to be the power of agility, a great gift if you knew how to use it. With all the running, moving, and fleeing Elsa had done, she was pretty damn sure she had that skill under pat. Her hooves dug deeper into the soil, creating lumpy globs of dirt around her, and then, when she believed she was facing Rhoa, burst forward. With her teeth gleaming in the light of the storm, Elsa reached forward for any part of Rhoa. Of course, she hoped he was still where he was when she kicked. If her kick had dazed him, she aimed to sink her teeth into the childish boy’s left shoulder.

With those quick movements, another roar of thunder blasted overhead. It echoed with a haunting melody through the old, decrepit trees of the forest. So this is what the Gods wanted all along wasn’t it? They just wanted to run her out of her home, and send her back here so she could be killed quietly, and without notice. The big fat “X” that they had painted on her ass seemed to be attracting more and more targets as her life wore on. Well, funny thing is, Elsa will not be defined by the fate a petty God sends upon her. She is a goddess, and she will destroy them all, and Hades himself, to live to fight another battle. Little naive Rhoa, you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.

"Talking"
[640 Words || 1/3 Attacks]
Elsa
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rhoa Posts: 175
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 3 HP: 65 | Buff: ENDURE
Odd
#4


Thunder rolls overhead, and for a moment my euphoric mind tries to convince me that the cause was my shoulder hitting white smear. Yes, yes I hungrily agree with my inner demons, who coax and purr in the back of my mind. The heavens themselves mirror my movements. I am idiotic and drunk on the power that floods my mind, as Elsa's body is shoved away from me. Have I hurt my own shoulder during this assault? If I have, I can't feel it. I am Rhoa. God of Thunder.

My teeth clamp down on the fleshy part behind her cheek, and I yearn to taste blood. For a moment I am envious of wolves and their sharpened fangs. My teeth are flat and don't have the force to break the skin the way canines might. Still, pinching the folds of her skin together is satisfying. As I let go, I let the taste of her rain-soaked skin linger on my tongue.

I think two thoughts: The first is that I am invincible. The second, is that I am going insane.

She pivots, and hubris holds me in place. What will white smear do? Is she running? A laugh begins in the back of my throat but is abruptly cut off by the powerful kick of a quarter horse. Amused sounds twist into a wheeze as air is forced out of my lungs. I feel the shape of her hooves on my chest like two brands, and through the pain my mind still finds a way to warp the scenario: I will have circles, rather than stripes like Father ... I sharply inhale, and find myself slightly overloaded now.

Thunder. It rumbles in my ears and for some reason hinders my sense of direction. Where is she? It's too noisy .. if only the thunder could be a little quieter..

Lightning. Flashes of light burn into my eyes and suddenly white smear has multiplied. I see remnants of her every where I turn my head.

Pain. My front legs scream as I try to regain my footing in the mud. My legs are forced to comply, regardless of how much the muscles in my chest protest.

I cannot fall. I am Rhoa. God of Thu-

I can see clearly now, even though the rain hasn't gone. She is right before me.

I feel her teeth on my left shoulder, and the world screams back into focus. Pain ebbs outwards from my shoulder, and I clamp down on my tongue to keep from crying out. Instinctively I try to raise myself up slightly, leaning back on my hind end. If I can, I will simultaneously use white smear for balance, while hitting her in the face and shoulder with my hooves. I have forgotten about the pain in my chest, but as my hooves flail to try and find her, I am reminded.

I scream as my hooves aim for the markings on her shoulders. My hind legs continually try to readjust themselves, but the mud beneath me is becoming even more saturated with water. As I let myself drop back to all fours, I try and shove forward one last time into white smear.

The part of me that is still me, the part hidden deep inside my mind hiding from the demons who have taken over, is horrified. That part of me knows why I call her white smear, and if I could only get passed the demons and remind myself, perhaps this will all end. I call her white smear, because to call her anything else admits that she is alive. Her build is thicker, taller and her body splattered with more blue, but it is undeniable that she bears a resemblance to Mother. And if she bears a resemblance to Mother, then perhaps she has children of her own. And even if not, she is alive. She does not deserve this.

But I can't say anything, and so I stay hidden. I let the demons do their work, and I feel their hold becoming more insistent.

My mind is divided. I am going crazy.

WC: 667
Attack: 2/3


Image Credits

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#5
Her hooves hit his flesh, and hard. The feeling of full contact sent a reeling burst of adrenaline through her. It was like his body had injected her with a high amount of drugs, but all of her side effects were good. Even as her side ached and moaned from Rhoa’s slam, the adrenaline did a perfect job of smothering it. The only thing left was the feeling that her heart had moved to that wound, and was pumping furiously. It was an oddly funny sensation, and she could not help but giggle as she spun back around. So with a joker grin, and the laugh of an angel, she lunged for his shoulder. Her teeth immediately clamped down upon his shoulder, the taste of his coat bringing her crazed mind into laser focus. She could not let mild victories deceive her; he was still more than capable of taking her down. However, he would not, could not, because he was replaced with the bodies of all the invaders. He wore the face of Ophelia, the body of Aaron, and the sickening betrayal of Ciceron. The Frankenstein body pulls away, her teeth releasing him from her grip. Again, his body begins to rise, and his hooves come lashing out.

At first, she’s shocked that he managed to get up there. Apparently, he had used her for his advantage; as a crutch to get up. A growl bubbled deep in her chest, and she pushed forward. Thunder cried overhead, drowning her cry as she lunged towards him. Her hooves slid, holding her there for a single moment. It was in that minimal fraction that the barred boy’s hooves came across the snowflake on her left shoulder. It drags from her withers across her shoulder and off the front part of her chest. In its wake, he left a raised, agitated line of bruised muscle. It pulsed heavily against the pressure of her muscles; this was a bruise that was going to hurt at every twitch of her shoulder. Yet, she was not upset. Instead, she began screaming, “Yes,” towards him, begging him to continue. Maybe he would be the one to tear this terrible birthmark from her shoulder. She didn’t need it anymore, and in fact; he could have all of her. If he wanted to scar her face so bad that even she couldn’t recognize herself, she would let him. Then she could be free from all of this, she could start over.

So she lunged toward him, this time finding her footing on a glob of grass and dirt that had been compressed beneath all of her spinning. Elsa hoped to run beneath him, and push him over. She wanted him to hit her, take out her face, and crack her spine. Come on Rhoa! She’s making this so easy for you! All you have to do is take the goddamn request! As if trying to push her request further, she tried to put a sheet of ice on the uneven, muddy terrain below Rhoa’s feet. If she could make him slip forward she could kill two birds with one stone; she could injure him and take injury herself. She could begin to feel all his attacks come to fruition as her rage died down, quickly being washed away in the rivulets of boggy ground. Her shoulder was screaming at her harsh movement forward, and her side felt as if it was being slowly pulled apart. Good, maybe then she could ruin herself all alone. Rhoa wouldn’t even be needed then. She could take the invader Frankenstein down, and herself, all at once. That way, she could die with the glory of knowing she had killed them all. They could never hurt her again.

"Talking"
[2/3 Attacks || 625 Words]
Elsa
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rhoa Posts: 175
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 3 HP: 65 | Buff: ENDURE
Odd
#6


As lightning flashes, I can see that I have not removed her snowflake, but I have sullied it and darkened it. I have twisted something beautiful and organic into something dirty and easily overlooked. I have smeared art, with finger paints, and it feels good.

I can hear her begin to scream yes, and I fancy that she is as enthralled with the metaphor that my action represents as I am. Is she hated too? Is she weak, and ignored, and alone? Does she feel the elated sense of self importance at the sight of her dirtied and wounded brand? TAKE MY WINGS, I almost scream. Somewhere deep inside, I think I might have - although there are no words. Just a guttural and pathetic sound that is close to hysterical. Perhaps if we shed the reminders of our parents - her snowflake and my embered wings - we can be free of our shackles. We will have our own scars, not those of our parents. All of this I mentally attribute to her, these mirrored feelings and sentiments.

I laugh amidst the thunder and the rain, feeling sweat and water drip into my mouth.

We will tear each other apart and be reborn.

I scramble backwards as she finds her footing. She lunges, and I stretch out my burning wing and then quickly pull it back to my side. She is the charging bull, forced to be here by cruelty. And I? I am the God of the Thunder waving my red cape to taunt her on. She will kill me, and I will kill her, and the crowd will cheer and throw roses.

And those roses will fall to the mud.

I use the motion of my left wing moving towards my body to help in jumping to the right. My legs are long and graceful, and though my hooves do not find purchase easily, I avoid the white bull and her charge. As comical as it would be to kick the bull in the ass as it charges by, ice has radiated outwards and has covered the ground below me. The smear became a bull, and now the bull is jack frost. At first I think there is humour in this, until I realize that she is mocking me. Fury grows and boils in my chest. It fills my belly and rises up, pounding against my chest which is still tight from her kick. The feeling of pure madness froths in the back of my throat as I glare down at the ice.

Ice. To be melted by fire. All of my inadequacies come racing down, taunting me and screaming their insults in every pulse of pain, and in every flash of lightning. Your father could melt me, the ice screams as I stare down at it. Drool, a little blood, and rain pours down my lips as I open them to scream. My throat is raw from the sound, but I don't care. My hooves slam and smash against the ice, attempting to break it up. It hurts my chest to force my forelegs into this rhythm, but I ignore it.

I will not be mocked.

"HOW COULD YOU." I scream, and suddenly I realize just how youthful my voice sounds. I sound like a child whose teddy bear has been mistakenly dropped in the mud, and now I am blaming everyone in the world for my mistakes. Before shame and regret can take hold, I surge after her. There are tears in my eyes now, and my breath has caught in my chest but I swallow it down. White smear will think the tears are rain, and the sound surely cannot be heard over the thunder and the squelch of mud. I lunge for her, moving through the trees to try and come at her left side. It is where her snowflake is, and it is calling to me.

My teeth snag outwards, wanting to taste her skin and whatever texture that snowflake might provide. I can feel my eyes beginning to sting painfully as tears continue to force themselves through, and a racking sob is already forming in the back of my throat.

I am Rhoa. I have made a mistake, and now its gone too far.


WC: 710
Attack: 3/3


Image Credits

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
#7
The running was terrifying. Watching him in front of her was bittersweet. On one hand, he was the representation of them all. Taking him down would bury all the pain and anguish. It was a fantastic solution to the problem, but it needed to work for it to end. Lighting pulsed in front of her then, lighting up Rhoa’s body like a Christmas tree. Funny thing was, he wasn’t even moving. As she added one final lunge, the body she expected to be there was nowhere to be found. Instead, the imprint upon her eyes began to fade. The Rhoa that she lunged for was no longer there. A brief moment of panic began to arise, within her vision everything seemed to be blurry and unrecognizable. All the fake images were melting into the real one. As her eyes blink rapidly to find reality, she can hear Rhoa to her left. He yells, screaming out incoherent thoughts and ranting about how she was mocking him. Seriously? She did not know him, and he was the fucking idiot who attacked her. He was a child in a man’s body, and she had apparently insulted him. A scoff flows down her throat like water, naturally and smooth. Of all the attacks she had done on him, and after he attacked her, he was getting mad because she had insulted him? Of all the idiots of the world, Rhoa was the king of dunceville. First off, not a single insulting word was uttered. Second of all, did he not realize that he was the one who had instigated this fight? He must be a deranged little child, born of two equally crazed parents. Then again, her children were not so different, were they?

There is no time for these thoughts, for her body has already moved her forward. Her blind side would not consciously allow her to stay there. Rhoa goes flying past, where exactly, she cannot see. The earth slides and squelches beneath her, rolling the ends of her tail into disgusting mud dreadlocks as she maneuvers to try and see him. Lighting crackles behind her this time, illuminating the area for a moment to create a crystal clear picture. Rhoa, from what she could gather, was now in front of her since she had turned. His body looked ripe for the taking, and she would obliterate that big frankenstein if it killed her. Thunder clashes overhead, the sound nearly rumbling the ground beneath her. With the war cry sounded, Elsa pushes off, and attempts to chase after Rhoa.

The leaves seemed to be screaming and crying under the weight of the storm. Elsa wanted out of this mess as much as the trees did. Nature never was and never will be beautiful to her. Like a yin-yang, there is always a little bad in the good. Just so happens, Elsa seems to be living in every single crevice of the dark. So this is the bad; When she thinks she reaches his left shoulder, trying to follow the sound of his footsteps in the dark, she lunges one more time. In unison, she reaches out her teeth to grab on to any part of his neck. The earth cries beneath her shifting wake, springing small droplets of earth across her hide. Her beauty did not matter anymore. The girl that was once pristine, proper and perfect had descended to such a level of indecency that she could not recognize herself. The spun and tangled mane, dull eyes, and soiled, off-white body represented an entirely new era. The dark ages had descended upon her, and every time she tried to claw her way out, she was just pushed back down with the butte of a gun. She would be forever bruised, forever broken, and never again a gentle soul. The princess had become a monster in the night. See? No good exists for her.


"Talking"
[3/3 Attacks || 652 Words || Thanks for the spar Aud. ^^]
Elsa
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

Rhoa Posts: 175
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 3 HP: 65 | Buff: ENDURE
Odd
#8


She ignores my screams, my allegations of her impurity and deviousness. As lightning flashes I'm fairly certain I can see a wicked smile, curving upwards far too high into her jawline. She isn't mortal, I'm convinced of that now. She is an incarnation of the bird-lady here to mock me. Her snowflake represents the bravery that I know I will never have, and as it dances out of sight - a pale beacon in this haze of mud and water - I know I have lost.

In my anguish and my despair, I lose sight of everything - both metaphorically and literally. My mind descends into the madness that I have created, the illusory world of revenge and distorted realities breaks and I am left holding the pieces of my shattered mind. My eyes try to see where white-smear has gone, but I am left blinded by the afterimage of her snowflake. I see its pattern superimposed over everything, as my panicked gaze shoots around. Lightning flashes and the world is overexposed.

I am Rhoa, and I am confused.

How have I gotten here? Why does my body ache? The cold reality of what I have done descends upon me like a wet blanket, but my mind in a youthful lunge towards self preservation blocks it out. I know that white-smear has been attacked, but it wasn't by me. There was someone else here, wasn't there? Some dark madman wearing a suit of a charcoal and dying embers. I turned to look for him, to throw myself at his mercy so that white-smear can escape, when I am shoved violently to the right. Pain races through my neck as my shoulder suddenly feels invisible. It has moved too far too fast, and my mind can't seem to place it in relation to my body. Muscles and ligaments twinge in unison as my long legs strive to find purchase in this quagmire. I step to the right, forced there by white-smear's shove and I can feel her teeth still on my neck. As my body continues to fall to the right, I can simultaneously feel my legs giving out from beneath me, as well as the oddly clear sensation of her teeth in my fur. For a beautiful instant I think that she is holding me up - that it was the dark fiend who pushed me, and it is white-smear who is rescuing me. I want to laugh as the moment stretches on, at the absurdity. I was going to save her, but here she is saving me.

The moment breaks.

My legs scramble now completely on their own, which is a blessing, for my mind has seemingly lost all control of my body. My heart is racing, my breathing is ragged, and I am completely disoriented. I feel my right shoulder slam into the ground - and somewhere beneath me my right wing screams in pain. I fancy that I can still feel her teeth on my neck, but I know that this is impossible as I gaze up at her.

Silhouetted against the the storm, I realize that I was wrong. Her body is now half black and half white. The darkness is eating her, devouring her, pulling her into the shadows and the secret hiding places of these woods. She was the burning man all along, revealing pristine flesh only to taunt me, showing me the snowflake and then snatching it away. I try to scramble backwards, but in all this mud the only way to rise is to roll forward on my legs - forward towards her. My mind balks, and I am suddenly very aware of the trees that surround me.

There is no where to run. There is no where to hide.

The world feels cold, but my injuries feel hot. My right wing has never stopped its serenade of pain, but only now do I realize that I won't be able to fly home. That won't matter, an oddly rational voice in the back of my mind comments. It isn't like you'll be leaving here alive. As the voice concludes, I'm sure white-smears eyes have turned red. She is burning now, mocking the pathetic embers that glow on my own wings. Somewhere I know it is only a pain-induced hallucination, but the fear is just as real.

Pleadingly I beg myself to allow the blood-lust that brought me here to bleed out of my system, but I know that it won't. Even in the face of this illusory death, I know that it will persist on in me. I have been betrayed by my family, damned by the bird-lady, and poisoned by my own mind.

I am Rhoa, may the Gods have mercy upon my soul.

WC: 787
Closing


Image Credits

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

RHOA
Realism [+4]
You really did exemplary in this fight, particularly your second post. You had excellent attacks, defenses, and descriptions. Great use of the scenery in each post - would have liked to see more inclusion of their stat differences. The only issue I have is your fourth post, which suddenly dived the opposite direction. You ended on the ground, taking what seemed more damage based on your description than was necessary given the dice roll of 4 and her attack. Maybe you were going for dramatic flare, but it impacted your realism which was previously soaring.

“Thunder. It rumbles in my ears and for some reason hinders my sense of direction. Where is she? It's too noisy .. if only the thunder could be a little quieter..

Lightning. Flashes of light burn into my eyes and suddenly white smear has multiplied. I see remnants of her everywhere I turn my head.”


Emotion [+3]
Really lovely and strong emotion in each and every post. I felt totally connected to Rhoa the whole fight.

“She is the charging bull, forced to be here by cruelty. And I? I am the God of the Thunder waving my red cape to taunt her on. She will kill me, and I will kill her, and the crowd will cheer and throw roses.

And those roses will fall to the mud”


Prose [+4.5]
Every post was a delight to read and had excellent flow, imagery, and vocabulary.

“I can see clearly now, even though the rain hasn't gone.” (lol)


Readability [+2.5]
Readable all throughout with none to minor mistakes with spelling and grammar. Excellent.

P3:
“...and now its gone too far” (it’s)


Finally tally: 40+(15*2)= 70 HP

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

ELSA
Realism [+2]
You have good attacks and defenses, but I need more detail to bring the realism to life. For instance, it didn’t feel like you took enough damage (roll of 6) in your first post, because despite the fact you took both his attacks head on, you barely described the injuries, nor did they seem to hinder Elsa at all as she went on to attack him. Similarly when Rhoa’s attack missed her in post 3, you don’t ever describe how he misses her/how she is able to dodge him, so it just felt kind of forgotten or left off. There was also a time in the second post where you said Rhoa attacked her left shoulder, but he was on her right side. You did well continually mentioning the surroundings though, and I liked that nod to your agility stat in post 1.


Emotion [+1.5]
Although this seemed like a very emotional fight for Elsa, I continually felt like I was just watching her from a distance, never being part of her. I was so often told how she felt, rather than shown, and at times was just generally confused about her feelings and why she had them.


Prose [+2]
Each post had some moments of flow, but also moments of choppiness. Overall they read a bit disjointed and scattered, and I felt like I was constantly chasing after her thoughts and imagery.


Readability [+2.5]
Posts were readable, but you had a lot of tense changes in each post which made it difficult at times. Good use of directional language though, and overall very few spelling issues.

P3:
“...naturally and smooth.” (natural)


Finally tally: 47.5+(8*2)= 63.5 HP


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