the Rift


[JUDGED] origins of a revolution [Erebos & Cathun]

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#1
EREBOS
He’d survived a battle with a God.
 
Gods could die.
 
The network of thoughts, of sentiments, emboldened the audacious lad all the more. The demonstrative outreaches of power, the complexity of immortality versus mortality, the final, dying sounds of something that had once been so proud, so magnificent, was enough to complicate the spinning webs contorting his Machiavellian mind. If a deity could be laid to waste, could be stripped and torn from a timeless, enduring life force, what was to be said for any of them?
 
Weren’t they just as weak? Just as helpless? Or were there ways around being meek and pathetic, sunken and disheveled, beaten and beaten and beaten until one forgot whom they’d been and what they’d done?
 
He was no stranger to death: his father commanded the element, and he’d seen Arwen’s fractured, lifeless body bleed red upon the pale snow. He’d been witness to murdered, ravaged bodies. He’d spied on countless moments and clues leading to a specific culprit. He’d been in the world long enough to understand that where there were thriving, blooming temples and tempests, there were those clustered in the shadows, struggling for their last breath.
 
Perhaps these last few days had been enough for him to finally understand and comprehend a means of achieving his endless aspirations. He had to be strong. He had to be wicked. He had to be cruel. In order to seek revenge for the poor golden filly, in order to harpoon vengeance into the slate of a demon, in order to become something more, he had to practice. He had to fight. He had to win.
 
And after that, maybe, just maybe, the world could be his.
 
Erebos proceeded across the eerie, crimson void, walking and wandering past its aperture, its stained leaves, its dark, entrancing canopy hiding the demonstrations of dawn, staring over the long, unwavering waterfall of ichor and savagery, the canvas of debauchery and sinister predilections.  Some mysteries had been answered, and some enigmas had been all the more stirred, incensed, but he sought it for its sorcery, for its appeal: where he’d wandered over hither and yon with Rikyn, where he’d wished Aithniel would view him as not a being to be protected, and where he’d seen the fire-boy turn and run, leaving them to the wiles, to the spells, to the violence of an angry being.
 
He hadn’t been irritated with him – merely disappointed. Cathun had failed to snatch the opportunity presented before him, to glory in the height of battle, to claim victory over a being regarded as untouchable, unattainable, to reach for the stars and truly feel, for a fraction of a second, that the glistening barbs descended and scorched their skin. Would he now, when Erebos presented him with one more chance, to fight, to skirmish, to bludgeon?
 
A monstrous piece of him stirred, belligerent and deceitful. Orsino rumbled beside him, sinking and sitting between the boy’s forelegs, coaxed and lured into the forbidding pieces of the future, spreading duplicitous hums beneath his foxy breath. He ceased only when the prince surged beside him, bellowing into the canals of blood and delusion – wondering how far they’d spread their own. “Cathun, come spar with me!”

[Setting: Blood Falls – around morning, though difficult to tell considering the amount of canopy. Set towards the blood waterfall.
0/3 posts. 537 words.
Feel free to have first attack! ^_^]

Image Credit


@Cathun

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#2
Erebos' immunity remains resilient against GLL.

Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#3
Slå mig hårt i ansiktet så får jag känna att jag lever

There was no point in it, really. Why should he practice and play war when he was resigning from the path of a soldier?

Perhaps it was merely to uphold whatever illusions of friendship there were between them. A friend was to come when another call, wasn't that how it worked? Though, of course, he knew this dark-skinned boy as much as he knew anyone in the wide, vast world.

Not at all.

The only fires that burned in the colt were ones lit by unnatural means. He had changed since their last meeting on an icy steppe, and not only physically. It was not only a few more inches in height and a broadening of the shoulders that marked the young stallion as different, nor simply the change from cascading locks to a blazing furnace where mane and tail should be. A bitterness stemming from fear and awareness of his own lack of power dulled the glowing embers of the eyes, and his steps as he approached the dark prince beneath a red canopy were lackluster and bored.

"Not that it will make a difference, but sure" he said, shrugging. No physical strength, no battle prowess in the world could save him anyway - but hey, maybe he could pass another few moments of this pointless existence, at least.

And Erebos might be grateful enough to remember someone who would soon be gone.

Not even remotely enthusiastic, Cathun kicked himself into action and set off in a lope meant to match that of his horned brother, long strides giving chase until he deemed that he was catching up. Unable to bother with any form of trickery or complicated tactic he simply snaked the head forth and tried to plant a bite on a steely buttock, aware that he risked being kicked in the head for his troubles.

It didn't matter much, though. Perhaps getting his skull smashed in would be less painful than having his soul consumed by magic fire?

Cathun wouldn't know. He had never died before.




WC: 338
PC: 1/3 + Def

Summary; Cathun runs after Erebos and keeps pace once he's almost caught up. Reaches out and tries to bite Erebus in the butt.

(I'm so sorry, he's completely not into this at all ;___; I'll try to make it less short and crappy next time)

@Erebos


Image by Yewrezz

» Magic and Violence is permitted at all times
» Please tag me!

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#4
EREBOS

Cathun’s complete, utter lack of enthusiasm wasn’t a surprise. He’d watched the taller boy flee as a monster rose from the unknown. He’d witnessed him escape into the void. It only made the prince wonder if the youth made of flames, concocted from the embers, was a coward. Was he frightened, or wise, not eager to be deluded into the sensation of danger and triumph? Was he weak or all the more sagacious? Was he petulant or heavily guarded, too aware of what lay beyond the depths of their dreams and fallacies? Was he to be respected for his choices, or criticized? Or was he more jaded, bitter, and rancorous because he was just a little older, just a little more experienced – discerning the world for what it truly was?
 
Erebos had seen the realm, had viewed kingdoms and empires, and knew what he wanted. He was meant to achieve, meant to surge, meant to propel, and had every intention of using others to attain those desires. He needed power, he wanted potency, he craved domination; it curled through his blood, across his ribs, down into the feral reaches of his twisted, demonic heart. If Cathun had no intention of seizing control or influence, he’d be one less to worry about, one more to step over, a means to an end.
 
Were they friends at all? Or mere acquaintances passing through one another’s lives? One experience tumbling into another: a root, a cause, a dilemma, a problem, a vexation? Would anything change? Would it even matter?
 
The growing infidel didn’t know, but had every intention of building whatever happened here and now into knowledge, into experience – would take the necessary damage in stride, would feel the weight of scars and the chisel of lost innocence, would wear it like a badge of honor, like a symbol of courage, like a banner of prowess.
 
Then it all began, and he was forced away from potential melancholy, into the folds of battle – but it was naught as he envisioned. No reign of terror, no declaration of triumph, no marks of sinister, nefarious designs: Cathun met him at an easy, leisurely, longer-strided pace, and despite the lad’s attempt at racing forward, the other bit him promptly on his rump.
 
The pain was respectful, smarting, a dull ache, a molten throb to mark the first of many. Pelt gnarled away and blew into the wind, leaving a blackened fixture of plucked hair. But there was no rage, no condemnation in the aftermath: mere acceptance of the inevitable scratches and imperfections brought on by battle. His reaction thereafter was purely instinctual, made out of compulsion and inclination rather than methods or modicums of practice. A fledgling in combat, despite ambitions and aspirations of grandeur, his intentions were minimal and haphazard – until the black kitsune snickered through their bond.
 
Orsino, cackling and howling amidst their connection, held ferocious, wicked ideas. The Stygian fox was no more experienced than his bonded, but infinitely more brutal, barbarous, and vicious, conducting, concocting, and cackling. Racing away from their tangle of limbs, from the range of hooves and daggers, the nefarious beast, the bestial cretin, ignited his own series of commands from beneath a bloody canopy. Fire, fire, fire! he sang in a noxious croon, a sinister, savage chant –
 
Erebos pulsed and bade the request of his companion.
 
As he kicked out behind him (struggled to ignore the ache, the bruise, across his hind), hoping, intending, yearning to strike the older, larger stag in the chest, he spread his invocations, his enchantments, his combustion magic through his veins, so the fervent zeal, the puissant ardor, was wild, unearthed, and ready for the fray. Would a touch of his hooves bring an inferno to the already blazing Cathun? Could fire be dealt to another being already encased, enshrouded, and veiled in its element?

[1/3 posts. 642 words.
Erebos tries to shoot forward to evade Cathun, but is bit on the rump, loses some hair, and suffers some bruising for his troubles. Orsino encourages him to use his fire magic while kicking out, aiming to hit Cathun in the chest and burn him at the same time.]

Image Credit


@Cathun

Cathun Posts: 88
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 3 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Tai
#5
Slå mig hårt i ansiktet så får jag känna att jag lever

To be perfectly honest he hadn't expected to actually reach the blue boy. He hadn't made any effort to cause pain, hadn't gone out of his way to create complicated battle plans because his heart was not in it. To then feel his teeth connect with flesh and taste the hair, the skin the scent of the stranger he called friend was peculiar. There was this odd mixture of pleasant surprise and guilt. It had to hurt to loose that much hair, and for all that his head was jarred and the teeth felt sore and his neck got twisted in an odd unexpected angle Erebos must feel a hundred time worse.

No sooner had his mouth connected with working muscle than he let go, pace dropping as a direct result of shock. Already with an apology on his tongue Cathun almost didn't see the kick coming - only his shorter strides and increased distance saved him as hard feet kicked out towards him. Snorting in silent surprise he reared, purely on instinct, his body moving him so that sensitive stuff like eyes and brain was placed out of harms way. As a direct result even the targeted chest was nearly completely spared, and a new sensation broke through the melancholy, the boredom.

Relief. Flavored with a touch of smug, vindictive pleasure. He had landed a hit, while Erebos missed. Well almost, there had been a quick scraping over his pectorals but it hadn't even hurt.

That was when the fox's scheme bore fruit. There was no way for him to guard against the flames that suddenly erupted where the very tips of jet cloves had scratched. For one Cathun didn't know that the prince could use magic at all, and for another it wasn't the kind of attack you could really block.

For that matter, the son of flame didn't even know that he could be burned.

But he could. And it hurt like a fucking bitch as he for the first time in his life got a taste of what his mother's last moments had been line. That little graze across skin caught flame and needles if itch turned into a swift javelin of pain that ate its way into his consciousness, erasing everything but the awareness that he had been wrong. So very wrong.  

Right then and there, he felt like quitting. This wasn't fun, how could anyone ever find pleasure in these kinds of sports? How had he ever found satisfaction in receiving cuts and bruises, in running until he felt like throwing up or collapsed from fatigue, in pushing every cell in the body until it ached? There was nothing impressive about being in pain, nothing glorious about hurting someone else. What kind of sick game was this?

Fractions of time snailed past, his body was still descending towards the ground. There was still time to turn, to run, to leave and save himself the trouble and the effort and the suffering. He could be whole, safe and comfortable somewhere far away...

... and he would be alone. Because, if he left now then Erebos would definitely call him a coward. The guy had been generous enough not to mention that time with the Bear, but Cathun suspected that there were opinions forming behind that silent facade. And after all Ranjiri's lectures, after everything Ampere and Gaucho and Megaera had said, it was this lack of words that affected him most.

He didn't want to be alone. Cathun wanted to be friends with this kid for real, not just as a play pretend agreement of non-aggression.

It meant that he would have to prove it, once and for all. That he wasn't the coward they painted him out to be.

So when his feet touched ground again he didn't stop, didn't run, didn't give in. He charged, bit back the scream of pain into a courageous groan and forced his legs to carry him forward, onwards, so that he didn't fall behind. Using whatever blessings his parents had gifted him with in ways of physique he tried to draw up level with Erebos and heave himself to the side, seeking to slam into the younger colt and bring him out of balance.

He was at a disadvantage. His fire harmed no one within the borders of Helovia while Erebos' magic was potent indeed. If this was to end in any way other than complete humiliation Cathun would have to find another way to fight.




WC: 747
PC: 2/3 + CD

Summary: Surprised that his attack landed Cathun slows down. When the kick comes at him he rears, making Erebos' hooves scrape across his pectorals. The kick doesn't do much damage but the fire burn away hair and sears the skin. After deciding that he wants to continue the fight Cathun speeds up to place himself level with Erebos, then tries to shove him off balance by slamming into Erebos side.


Image by Yewrezz

» Magic and Violence is permitted at all times
» Please tag me!

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#6
EREBOS
They had both grown in a series of moments.
 
Erebos’ fire scorched another, and instead of the intense, overwhelming regret he’d conjured when he’d done the same to Asch so very long ago, the sentiments were fervent, ardent, and empowering. There was proof to his potential, evidence of his capability – he could be one more demon amongst the infidels, rising, rising, rising before their very eyes. Below the satisfaction, the contentment, the zeal in sinister convictions, there was the smallest glimmer of shame, that he’d somehow damaged, wronged the other lad, but then that too was squashed as Cathun proved his own capacity.
 
He didn’t run. He didn’t show any marks of a coward or weakling. He charged towards Erebos, and despite Orsino’s dark, pressing warnings, there was no chance to beat out the ember-clad stag’s longer, lengthier stride – they crashed in a tirade of motion. Cathun’s broader, taller form met Erebos in a mighty push of force along his right side; the scion was nearly tossed off his feet, stumbling amidst the forest loam, digging into its soil and finding his ability to stand again. The rush was breathtaking, stealing away the delicate moments of reflection for something relentless, overbearing, and mutinous; all he could do was leap to the left, scatter pebbles, and gain the function of his lungs back.
 
Was he destined to lose? Could this massive beast defeat him?
 
And what would that mean: that he was weak? That he was powerless? That he was incapable?
 
 The notion incensed, infuriated, bent into his composed mind and fractured its warm, compassionate senses, its pleasantries, its gallant, valorous efforts, pressing and pulsing into a maddening, frayed end met with declarations and pursuits.
 
Because he wanted to make the other flee. He wanted him to wither and decay before his eyes; admitting the yearning of triumph, the eager, swift, culmination of everything and anything he wished to be. He embraced the avaricious plunge, he cherished the challenge, he ground his teeth, chiseled his jaws together, and gathered all the thoughts swarming the connection between wily kitsune and the eager, belligerent boy.
 
A spark of menace glimmered amidst their bond, and the fox hidden within the bushes whispered, beguiled and entranced. Show me what want. I do, I do!
 
Erebos, a son of craft, of machinations, of calculations, remembered how Cathun had fled the scene amidst their earlier trials and tribulations – the vision of the colossal, ivory bear puncturing and piercing the setting, the frightening, unhinged howls, the scent of bloodshed…
 
Orsino laughed again, and drummed enchantments the miniature infidel had never dreamed of.
 
On the spark of delusions and hallucinations, raw images became concocted through the air, bringing terror to reality, sketching, tracing, and defining: painting horror and treachery. Erebos stared and witnessed it all: the heavy, foreboding steps of a giant, towering being echoed amongst the landscape, the tremor of the leaves as a smaller copy of the ursine flashed beneath the blood-red canopy, the pulsing, unwinding power Orsino held in his grasp.
 
As the bear appeared to lumber towards Cathun, marching on all four legs and bellowing grand, terrifying roars, the colt used it as a means of distraction. He pretended, (fought the urge to snicker and laugh), gasping and staring and allowing his jaws to slacken, hoping the other would be disturbed from the manifestation of their previous dangers, of their dance with gods and behemoths, before darting towards Cathun’s left.
 
His turn was slow, dawdling and sedate, hindered by his sore hind and aching right shoulder, but he ground across the loam and hoped their plan worked – that the now, flickering image of the bear (perhaps Orsino’s youth didn’t guarantee a strong, enduring image) would be enough of an interference to grant him time and opportunity.
 
But the youth tried anyhow, lowering his skull, brandishing his horn, to attempt and scrape the length of his sword down Cathun’s left side – delving deeper and deeper into the art of prowess, the scale of potential. 

[2/3. 668 words.

Cathun crashes into Erebos’ right side, sending him stumbling and leaping off to the left. Orsino, using his dark illusions magic, conjures a moving image of the bear from the Blood Falls SWP thread, hoping to distract/scare Cathun. As the image flickers, since Orsino doesn’t have full control of his magic yet, Erebos uses the chance to try and swipe Cathun’s left side with his horn.]

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Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#7
Cathun is cured of GLL!

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#8
Cathun defaults to Erebos. Partial judging requested.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

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

CATHUN
Realism [+1]
Overall you had good attacks, basic and easy to follow, but you never tied in the terrain of breed/stat differences to bring in more realism. Additionally through you explained the fire hitting and hurting you, you didn’t explain to what extent the injuries are which made it difficult to gauge if it was appropriately taken damage - I felt it wasn’t considering right after you were burned you ran forward (after stopping, so you had to catch up to Erebos even) and used your body to ram him, all of which should have been greatly painful to your fresh burns but wasn’t mentioned. You do have greater speed so easily could have mentioned that to help it make more sense as to why he could still accomplish that attack, even freshly injured.


Emotion [+2.5]
Really strong emotions from Cathun all throughout the fight, I never had to guess what was going through his head and I loved seeing how he changed throughout the fight as he gained new motivation and perspective.

Loved this line:
“How had he ever found satisfaction in receiving cuts and bruises, in running until he felt like throwing up or collapsed from fatigue, in pushing every cell in the body until it ached? There was nothing impressive about being in pain, nothing glorious about hurting someone else. What kind of sick game was this? “


Prose [+2.5]
Had good flow, transitions, and imagery throughout. Avoid starting sentences with “but” and “and” however.

Really enjoyed these lines:
“The only fires that burned in the colt were ones lit by unnatural means.”

“...maybe he could pass another few moments of this pointless existence, at least. And Erebos might be grateful enough to remember someone who would soon be gone.”

“Perhaps getting his skull smashed in would be less painful than having his soul consumed by magic fire? Cathun wouldn't know. He had never died before.”


Readability [+2.5]
Overall easy to understand just some minor typos and a few fragments.

P1:
“...to come when another call…” (called)

P2:
“...the skin the scent …” (needs comma)
“... moments had been line.” (like)
“...needles if itch…” (of)


Finally tally: 35+(8.5*2)= 52 HP

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

EREBOS
Realism [+3.5]
Good responses to attacks with proper damage and injury taken and explained! Your attacks were all plausible and well detailed which made them easy to follow. You didn’t mention terrain or breed/stat differences in your first post but did very well bringing them into your second post.


Emotion [+2]
Although your first post started out with more verbiage than emotion, I really felt your second post was strong and gave a lot of insight into Erebos’ development and motives. I particularly like the utilization of the companion in both posts as Erebos’ devil on his shoulder.


Prose [+2.5]
You have excellent vocabulary and imagery, but your sentences are often very long and broken up which affects the flow of the sentences and the post as a whole. Although run on sentences, comma use, and synonyms are all style choice, they both add and subtract at times. I would suggest varying your sentence length at times to enhance flow.

Really like this line:
“If Cathun had no intention of seizing control or influence, he’d be one less to worry about, one more to step over, a means to an end.”


Readability [+3]
Easy to understand with no grammar issues or typos!


Finally tally: 53+(11*2)= 75 HP


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