the Rift


[JUDGED] aggravated hallucination [ Rikyn vs. Ki'irha ]

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1
Rikyn


My symptoms cease to remain the same, fluctuating rapidly as an erratic heartbeat; the fear that I am going to die heightens with each change, every heavy, hurting cough.
 
The cough is constant, as is this fluid that drips like slick tar from my ears and mouth, my nose and eyes. 
 
The lack of odor about the world has bloomed into a vivid horror, every inhalation through my nostrils sharp and distinct, so much so that it had given me a headache that resounds like razor blades through my brain.
 
I am blind, yet not truly so; the world is a pitch black blanket, as if steeped in a moonless, starless night, obstacles visible to me only as faint, ghostly outlines of silver.  Occasionally, the hot red and molten blue gleam of life flashes through the pitch, the figures distinct – squirrels, birds, other unicorns and pegasi – all of them broken by the black lines of the obstacles that stood between they and I, indistinguishable in this cursed darkness.
 
My heart thuds loud in my ears, my eyes pull shut and I stop, trying to focus on something in the deluge of grass, beings, shit, dirt, air, flowers…something familiar, something that oddly inspires a violent rage in me.
 
Aureate eyes fly open, the glaze of black film breaking in patches, dripping from the corners of my eyes in an endless trail of weeping that has begun to wear the black hair away in their wake, revealing the dark gray skin below, itching, burning.
 
She is there, ahead of me, a great, wingless dragon curling putrid, the smoke curling from her nostrils a pale, drifting gray against the black, dining on the flesh of a unicorn.  The reek of smoke and pungent scent of blood assail my nostrils, make my golden eyes quiver in the intensity of the throb that besieges my head, one that dances in time with the blooms of anger that take hold of me at the sight.  Taking only a moment to assess what little I can, I find the region to be void of trees in a circular perimeter of some six feet, small and treacherous – just the kind of challenge I love.  My bellow breaks the air as I charge towards her glowing red figure, golden hooves flashing in the light of the afternoon as I dodge the silvery outline of willows and roots, stumbling occasionally as I approach, caring not if I twist or break something.
 
Desperation to avenge my fallen kin fills me (the call of my faith demanding blood from this fellow creation of the First Gods), and I heed its aching call; as soon as I believe I am within range of the monster I lunge with my blade, pulling my neck hard to the left in an attempt to slice a large wound wherever I might, refusing to inhale while in proximity of her sharp dragon stench.  Following the leftward motion of my crown with the rest of my figure, I relinquish a buck as my haunches come about, my weight balanced on splayed forelegs, hoping to knock the wind out of the scaled beast so that its flames cannot touch me.

From my face comes the spray of black fluids, a cough rattles my chest and my stance and I stagger away from the dragon wheezing, cursing my anxious leap into the fray, my lack of thought to the water logging down my lungs.
 

[ Spar
1/3 :: 574 words 
Timeline :: One week between
Location :: Secret Grove, a clearing that is about six feet and mostly circular.  There are roots along the ground that may cause issues.  Midafternoon with a clear sky. 
Summary :: Got it rollin' right out of the gate lol.  Rikyn is experiencing a heightened sense of smell and an accompanying headache.  Living beings are seen in infrared and the rest of the world is incredibly dark, only things in close proximity vaguely visible; he is also hallucinating that Ki'irha is a dragon. xD  Runs in like an idiot and attempts to slice open a wound with his horn, then pivots to deliver a buck (which ends in a staggering cough rather than the awesomeness he's hoping for).  Good luck! ]  





Coding by Tamme - Image by Dingo


@Ki'irha

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#2
Ki’irha
The starry girl paced. Back and forth, back and forth, crazed by insomnia and fever. Her mouth was agape as the black dripped, filling her with an uneasy nausea. Her silver eyes were clouded, and nothing but shadows and the occasional shimmer of bright light made it past her black tears. The occasional cough ripped into her lungs, and the fluid crackled in the small pouches where air should be.

”You’re dying,” a voice murmured in her mind. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in several seasons, but remembered all too well. Her father’s voice had been creeping in, filling in each place that her lack of sleep had left. ”You’re dying, and not by the victorious grasp of battle. What a pathetic way to go. The starry girl spat, her saliva bitter and course. His voice had been haunting her, taunting her. As if she wasn’t feeling bad enough, now the voice of her dead father followed her everywhere she went, forsaking her path and denying her claims to be a true warrior. Shaking her head, she attempted to dislodge the hallucination. But it seemed to latch deeper with every passing moment.

In her distraction, she didn’t notice the beast that circled. A loud cry burst through her episode, and her head snapped up, ears perked, silver eyes near blind but still frantic. A dark shadow grew larger and larger still, and she didn’t realize what it was until he was almost upon her. She scrambled backwards, attempting to avoid the assailant, when a cloven rear hoof slipped on a gnarled protruding root. A shrill whinny escaped her as she tumbled backwards, and a sharp horn cut deep into her breast. Blood sprang to the laceration, angry and vivid against her midnight body. Legs flailed as she attempted to right herself, clawing desperately into the earth. Golden hooves flashed, deadly in their force, over her head. Luck had protected her this time, but was surly gone as quick as it came.

”Get up!” the voice in her head hissed. ”Don’t lay down and die, get the fuck up and kill him!” She snarled as she heaved herself up, legs trembling with weakness and pain and fury. “Bastard!” she yelled, and reared up, onyx scraping the warm air, feeling power hum strong in her chest. Her heart thrummed like a bird, eyes like a storm rolling over the sea. She came crashing down, hooves pounding into the soft earth. The ground shuddered, a faint quake rattling outwards from her impact. She aimed to knock her assailant off balance, and punish him for his audacity. She lunged forward, his shadow dark against the light streaming into the clearing, and ploughed her whole body towards him, jaws agape and dripping with black. White teeth snapped together, aiming for flesh and the metallic taste of blood.

Her battle was always a dance. Elegant and purposeful and deadly, each step flowing one into the next. But not this time. This fight was clumsy and bulky. Her vision was skewed, her legs heavy, her aim uncertain. And as she fell towards him, she hoped he danced just as poorly as she.
____________________________________
Speech
OOC//[WC 527]
1/3
Summary: Ki’irha is suffering from GLL, and only sees in shadows. Her sense of hearing is vastly improved due to her loss of vision. She is also suffering from auditory hallucinations. Ki’irha is caught off guard by the attack. She slips and falls, but her opponent’s horn still slices into her, leaving a not-so-superficial laceration on her chest, and her body is sore from the fall. She avoids the kick. She uses her War Stomp rank magic to shake the ground and throw Rikyn off balance, then throws her whole weight towards him, attempting to knock him over. She also attempts to bite his neck. She is also just clumsily throwing herself around due to her disorientation from GLL.
Tagged// @Random Event @Rikyn

The Midnight Warrior
Image Credit
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#3
Яikyn
The dragon screams as we meet, the cry clamoring through my warrior’s blood until it is on fire; I don’t notice how odd it is for a beast mighty as she is to turn in terror, or that the body that had been at her clawed feet is now absent as my hooves clatter across roots, rather than flesh. I don’t notice how horse like her movements are, that she smells of snow and pine.

The black world is alive with red tinge of my anger. I notice nothing else but the ways I might punish her for the imaginary death of my kin.

The blood that flies from the scaled breast of the wingless dragon is bright and gleams in the black world, spraying like luminescent lava across the silvery pencil sketches of the leaves below. She scrambles to regain lost footing, and I feel the surge of having struck a successful blow ripple through me, extending in an audible cry of delight that fades into a gurgle of sickness, a black spray of sludge erupting from my lips and nostrils.

I’m still hacking and slobbering, turning about to face her again, when the bitch rises, her draconic features leering.

Bastard! she screeches.

I spit black tar and saliva at her in response as she lifts her fore into the air, her talons lashing uselessly, leaving red streaks momentarily lingering in the atmosphere in my disease riddled vision. I feel my muscles tighten in anticipation for fire, beginning a sweeping forward step with my chin tucked low and my horn angled for another strike at her raised figure, eagerly accepting the touch of her flame if it means I can make the damned dragon bleed again.

I don’t reach her before she lands her fore hard on the earth, a sudden and tumultuous shifting of everything beneath me stilling my forward motion, turning the momentum of my assault into a fight for my upright position.

"Treacherous bitch!" I manage, just before her dragon bulk slams into my left shoulder, a curious thought as to why this dragon is so very small flitting through my thoughts, not unlike the spots of white light that dapple the ebonite world at the ferocity of our bodies meeting.

I don’t go down, not like she wanted, anyway, but I am dazed enough that I am forced to pivot clockwise under the weight of the impact, feeling a deep bruise aching within; an odd tingling in my right hind ankle suggests I should pay more mind to the roots below. Her teeth clamp down hard where my neck meets my wither, the skin rupturing, oozing red blood down the curvature of my shoulder, earning a grunt of discomfort from black goo lined lips.

Wheezing, I follow the momentum of my body, letting my fore travel about to the right, lashing out as swiftly as I can with my hind hooves (feeling my shoulder scream, nearly buckling), hoping to clip legs, chest, face – anything, a voluminous hack resounding through the clearing at the second extension of my hind legs.

Maybe I’ll get to keep a few teeth as souvenirs.




[ 2/3 :: 525 words
Timeline: 1 week
Summary: Moves to attack Ki’irha as she rears, but the Ground Stomp forces him to deal with remaining upright. Her charge impacts him in the left shoulder, leaving a deep bruise, and she gets a bite in on his upper shoulder near the crest of his wither, which is now bleeding and obviously hurts xD (but is causing no severe issues otherwise). Almost manages to sprain one of his ankles during all this (not quite, its more susceptible to spraining now, however). Rikyn allows her impact with his left side to play into his counterattack, following his momentum right, and delivers two hard bucks aimed in the general behind him vicinity. ]

@Random Event @Ki'irha

in every heart a hole
Image Credit

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#4









Ki’irha
A warrior made of the midnight sky

’Treacherous Bitch!’ The words rang in the blue girl’s ears, and she cracked a smile. Ears twisted and lay flat on her head as they joined together, teeth gnashing, and the warmth of blood rushed into her mouth. The iron washed over her tongue, the blood replacing the horrid taste of black for a moment. It drove her wild, and she wanted more. The gilded stallion tore away, body wrenched away from her clamped jaws. She stumbled as he moved away from her, not expecting his weight to be supporting her upright as much as it was.

Drain all the blood from his body, her father’s name ordered, Wet the earth with his blood. As her assailant swung wide, appearing to be ready to retreat, she lunged towards him. He would not escape her this day. He had started this, and she would finish it. Neck outstretched, she went to sink white back into his hide. But blind as she was, she didn’t notice hooves heading towards her. An awful pain shot down her body as a single hoof met her shoulder. A long leg buckled and she tumbled, falling to her knees. The rest of her body followed, and she lay crumpled on the meadow floor.

Deep breaths caused her sides to shudder as she attempted to catch her breath. Her nose dropped, resting against the mud that slicked the earth. Pain radiated up and down her leg. Her head was spinning, dizziness disorienting her. A bruise bloomed deep in her shoulder, aching and throbbing as the sharpness from the initial injury subsided. She coughed, each burst short and shallow. Tar dripped slowly, congesting her and blurring her perception. Get up, get up and keep fighting. Her father’s voice was firm. She sighed, and attempted to stand. She felt like a newborn filly, her legs trembling and awkward and not quite doing what she wanted them to do. Finally standing, her stance was wide, head still dropped. She sneezed, black dribbling from her face. “You think you will win. You think you can beat me. You have no idea who you are fucking with.” Eyes flash up, steely and sharp and cold. “But I will teach you. It’s a shame you will not leave this arena to tell others how to avoid the same fate.”

The blue girl burst forwards, her sword aimed to kill. Still dizzy, still disoriented, and still nearly blind, all she was aiming for was the dark form before her. She targeted anything she could rip into. She ached to hear his cries, see him crumple, feel the life leak from him beneath her hooves. The blue girl, carved from midnight, born to rogues and outcasts, gifted from the Tallsun sky, was a warrior. She wasn’t afraid to kill. This brute crossed her, brought his rage upon her, and she would emerge victorious. She stabbed and twisted, aiming to gore the stallion. She ripped backwards, rearing and slashing with cloven onyx, waiting, craving, the feeling of hoof against muscle.

She didn’t know who this stallion was. She didn’t know his life or his home or even his name, but that wouldn’t matter soon. It wouldn’t matter when he was nothing but dinner for the buzzards that had begun to circle overhead.
____________________________
speech
WC: 546
2/3
Summary:: Ki’irha reaches towards Rikyn, getting close enough that his kick partially lands on her shoulder. It causes crushing pain and a severe bruise. She falls from the kick after her leg buckles. She has a resting moment, then once she is back on her feet, she aims to stab Rikyn repeatedly with her horn, and kick/scrape/impact him with her hooves as she rears and kicks at him.
@Random Event
@Rikyn


Credits
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#5
Rikyn

The dragon falls.

Clumsy, stupid lizard, I think to myself, coming about in a semi circle (clockwise in its direction) as she wheezes and moans on the ground, a harsh snort spraying black, signifying my feeling of superiority as the sound of her body hitting the earth fills my ears. That the dragon has caught the strange lung disease infecting the people of Helovia is a cursory thought, her sneezing and hacking forgotten in the challenge that drips from her draconic lips as I face her once more.

My breath rattles in my chest, burning with each sharp inhalation, the rush of my blood and the needy demands of my sinew devouring oxygen, difficult to come by with fluid filled lungs. But she has threatened my life, and has already taken another, and though the air feels like needles, though my shoulder throbs, it is nothing in comparison to the inferno which consumes my heart as my aureate gaze defies her own, red as the blood which drips from her bleeding chest in the strange vision of this disease.

Together, we charge, my chin again tucked to my chest so that the tassels of my growing beard tickle the curvature of my muscular breast, dark and tangled mane flying back gracefully as I angle my horn for violence and blood…

The touch of her blade as it pierces my shoulder is not the sharp, immediate pain of a bruise; it is immaculately painless, strange, from the first pop of the flesh breaking, and then the secondary pop as it leaps out the other side, poking straight through the flesh of my shoulder along the left side. My eyes grow wide, the dark pupils constricting, the knowledge that I have been wounded, and badly, a dark and sickening grip on my belly. There is no cry of anguish, but the soft sigh of worry for the pain to come.

That I have been wounded by a horn is something that sends reality spiraling along with my thoughts, and the delusion that she is a dragon melts. Though the world is still black, the trees an elegant and almost imaginary promise on the outskirts of the clearing, the living red back I look upon is not the upper arching, scale riddled spine of a dragon, but a unicorn’s, the curve of her whither draped in silvery mane, my nose suddenly accosted with the snow and stone scent of her being.

I know her, I think, a strange guilt blooming amidst the worry and anger that had flooded me before. The realization is an audible garble on the air, an indistinct word of some sort that I can’t even make out through all the things besieging my brain – maybe something along the lines of “stop” – but it’s too late.

Pain blooms to life as she pulls backwards and up, a sudden motion that rends the flesh upon its exit, slicing loose a chunk which wobbles grotesquely as I too try to pull away from her, spinning to the right as stars fill my vision and crimson floods from the savage perforation in my shoulder. This time, I do make a shout of pain, short and honest in its pitch (because it hurts like hell), my eyes squinting shut as I tuck my head down and try to pull aside and then forward, to gain a few seconds to assess whether or not I’m going to bleed to death, and to relocate for an attack if I haven’t fainted between then and now. I feel wind brush by me from her hooves, narrowly missed, the scream of the bruise surrounding the new wound having grown into a dull moan in comparison the living fire of my new piercing slash flesh flap.

Agony makes me pant and wheeze, each breath rattling and obvious in the Birdsong air, but no sudden weariness beleaguers me as would be suspect should she have severed some major artery or another. Belief that I will live floods me, and as she swats at the air, I leap forward, my blade reaching for where I gauge her haunches to be, hoping to inflict some bleeding wound of my own in return. I continue my forward pace, and, assuming my timing was correct (and she had not moved), I kick out sideways with my hind legs towards the right in an attempt to clip her with my hooves in passing, though I cannot help but yelp in pain as the wound on my shoulder spreads wide and oxygen causes the open veins to burn.

[ 3/3 :: 762 words
Summary: Turns around while Ki'irha is on the ground. Charges towards her with hopes to stab her in the shoulder, instead gets stabbed in the already wounded left shoulder; as she pulls back into the rear, she rips the wound partially open so that there is like a tunnel type thing which ends in a floppy flesh flap. xD He pulls to the right, takes a second to be like am I dying, and then moves forward to attack her booty end with his horn, continuing forward two paces before cow kicking at her. ]




Coding by Tamme - Image by Dingo

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#6
Ki’irha
A warrior made of the midnight sky

The girl’s aim was true. She felt the snap and pop of skin as she punctured the gold-stained stallion’s hide, and as she wrenched herself upwards, blood sprayed across her sculpted face. A shrill whinny broke from her lips as she reared, hooves scraping nothing but warm air as the stag avoided her daggers. She landed, dragging a cloven hoof through the ground. She snorted and snarled, black oozing freely, a film of sweat clinging to her body. The air smelled of blood and sweat and earth and black. She quivered, rage burning into her heart, tensed muscles aching and burning as she exerted herself. Her chest burned still where he had ripped her open, letting any chance of a change of heart seep away like her blood into the soil. ”He bleeds for you. Make him bow. Make him beg for mercy that you will not provide.” He had mumbled something, though she was unable to decipher the words. Perhaps the black stallion had realized his mistake. But realization had fallen upon him too late. This would not end with forgiveness. This would not end with tenderness. This pain and hate would last forever.

The stood for a moment, facing each other. The air was silent, other than the gasping sounds of blackened lungs trying to refill desperately with oxygen. She could feel the tar crackling in her lungs. Her nostrils were flared, drawing in breaths as deep as she could before the coughing began and threatened to shatter her ribcage. She moved forwards slowly. The lightest of limp marred her steps, leg sore from the brute’s kick. She stopped before him, speaking as though she were speaking to a lover. “It’s a shame I am blind, for I would love to see you now. But the smell is enough. Your blood drowning the scent of mine, paired delicately with the earthy smell of sweat and mud. It is intoxicating--“  she seemed to purr the last word, savoring it’s taste as it slipped from velvet lips, “—And I will remember it forever. It’s truly a shame, as you seem a fair match for myself. But this is not the day the midnight queen will fall. I will not fail. You will. Perhaps you already have.”

Front hooves launched the warrior off the ground into a final rear and she leapt forwards. The stallion met her, though they nearly missed each other, and his horn dragged across her haunches, a row of red pearls bursting from the wound. This wound was not as deep as the one across her breast, but screamed on its own. She turned, teeth bared, ready to take him on face to face, when hooves pounded into her thigh. A screech escaped her as crushing pain bloomed dark and angry through her leg, and she nearly tumbled again. She staggered forward. Rage and annoyance ripped through her mind, red leeching into her dark vision.

She forced herself backwards, clumsiness resettling into her movements. She returned the favor and coiled, and released as much energy as she could. She hoped to make him buckle, make him fall, cripple him. As soon as her hooves returned to their rightful place on the ground, she repeated the action, though this time with less power. She bounded forwards, placing several strides between them, before spinning to face him. Pain blossomed red and vivid throughout her body. A mask of crimson was slicked across her face, horn glistening, bloodied, in the light. Rust on cobalt, red against the Milky Way. Patches of her mane were slick with blood, the deepness of the color stark against her white waves. She gasped, a cough adding a spray of black to the mix. Nostrils flared and she snorted, eyes stormy and glaring. Her sides heaved, her breathing heavy and ragged.

She stood now, waiting for something. Like two dancers, drunk and ill and everything wrong, she had not enjoyed this battle. He was larger than she, and he had been quicker. She was stronger, but he held on longer. She was tired and beaten and sore. But this was it. She waited for the stallion to face her, waited for the battle to continue until one of them fizzled out like a dying star. She was sure it would be him. The delirium lied to her, told her she could continue. But another brutally placed hoof or perfectly aimed horn could end her, leave her to die in this meadow. She could not force herself towards him again. Her muscles would not allow it. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized she could not catch her breath, each inhale painful and sharp. She was ready for it to be over. One way or another, this would be over.  
____________________________
speech
WC: 797
3/3
Summary:: Ki’irha monologues, then rears again, just to be dramatic. As she goes to attack Rikyn she misses, and he digs his horn into her thigh causing a superficial, though painful, laceration. She goes to turn to confront him again, placing herself in perfect position for his kick to get her. It causes severe pain and bruising. She faces her butt towards him and goes backwards a bit to try to get closer and kicks twice, the first with more power and force than the second. She then retreats several strides away, and turns around so she is facing him/their battle area.
@Rikyn
Credits
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#7
Rikyn

She wastes more breath insulting me than my shoulder drips red and thick upon the foliage below, my backward held ears flattening further in an attempt to drown out her attempts to goad me into wasting my own energies on words for her. My main interest at this point is find a way to slip out of the battle, the discovery that she is not a cruel draconic murderess distraction enough, especially now that I am cognizant enough of reality to know that there was never even a body.

The only blood which floods my senses is our own, mine more strongly marking the cool spring air, no unknown unicorn lying upon the clearing floor as had seen when first I’d charged; in what brief glimpses I can manage, I gather what my nose already tells me.

She likely was never a dragon, and there certainly is no dead unicorn in this clearing. Any hostility towards the mare which lingered is immediately lost on my foolishness, embarrassment and the pain of my many wounds driving my thoughts away from battle and to a place of respite, where the bleeding perforations along my shoulder might knit shut and begin to heal.

I feel blood weep from my shoulder with each steady pulse of my heart, and with knowledge of my fatality ever present in my thoughts, we string together in battle; my horn drags along her haunches, the smell of fresh blood meeting my nostrils, the sound of her screaming loud as my hooves make contact with her muscular thigh. My narrowed gaze trains on the tree line, planning a route of escape from the accidental battle (I’d rather die than apologize) as I run alongside her flank, hooves landing on the leaf strewn earth with a heavy thud, the smell of soil wafting upwards with their cloven touch.

Unsteadily we both move in our blood dance, my left foreleg hot and sticky with life’s wine, the same shoulder aching from the multiple other wounds she’d delivered to damn near the same location with a sinister accuracy. An obvious limp marks every movement, the leg pleading with each step for rest – but there is no time as the sound of hooves whistling through the air meets my backward turned ears, the thump of her little indigo daggers striking my flesh a split second prerequisite before the pain of the new bruise blooms to life, the tender flesh where my rump curves down towards my leg, low and agonizing; blessedly, her second buck fails to touch me as the first, the whisper of air breezing past my hocks the only hint she had tried.

Intent on ending the battle, however, aware that I feel rather faint in the head from blood loss, I surge forward towards the tree line, hoping to disappear into the shadow and away from the fight while she turns about to face me once more.



[ Closing Defense :: 490 words
Summary: Rikyn takes her first buck just above the left hock where his bum eases down into his leg, on the left side. He then moves forward into the trees and tries to escape the fight. ^^
OOC: It was super fun! Thank you for the fight and I hope to get to spar with you again, Noella. :3 Also I'm super sick so I'm sorry if this post is sorta poopy. :( ]




Coding by Tamme - Image by Dingo



@Official

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

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

RIKYN

Realism [2]
In this spar, you seemed to really struggle with translating the dice roll into the appropriate damage. In post two, you took way too much damage. A 1 is literally the lowest that can be dealt, and all of the injuries sustained do not match up with the roll at all. The post that fit the dice roll the best was your closing defense.

A few times throughout the fight, I did not think Rikyn could as skillfully maneuver attacks with the injuries he sustained. For instance, with the written severity of the injury to his shoulder, I don’t see how he could have successfully bucked out with his hind hooves.

In the start of this spar you don’t give any direction or indication of where you try to attack for either of the attacks. As the fight goes on, you remember more to use directional language, but I still had to re-read several times to reorient Rikyn in my head as he attacked and dodged.

Throughout the entire battle, no breed differences mentioned. For most of the fight, Rikyn imagined Ki'ihra as a dragon, but you mention she still retained the relative size of her actual form. Therefor, even though he imagined her as a dragon, these stat differences could have been utilized. Alongside that, you only mention the terrain in which they're fighting in passing. I encourage you to think more about how the battleground can help or hinder your character!


Emotion [1.5]
At the beginning of this fight, Rikyn's posts are very dry. The majority of your posts for this fight are well under the word count, so I would advise in the future to use these extra words to fill in with some really powerful language! You are a beautiful writer who knows their characters, so I believe you can do it!

As the spar goes on, the emotion got better, but as a whole I felt it extremely lacking--especially given the situation. Post three was your strongest post when it came to emotion, but even then I was still begging for more.


Prose [3]
P2: “…black world is alive with red tinge of my anger…” :: with the red tinge
P3: whither =/= wither

Overall, good writer with a well-written style.


Readability [2]
All of your posts were easy to read. I would love to see more clear directional language used, however!

Finally tally: 31.5(8.5*2)= 48.5 HP

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

KI’IRHA

Realism [-1]
With being a beginning fighter, this thing can be really daunting. You struggle with translating the dice roll into damage appropriately throughout the fight. In post one, for example, the cut to her chest was way too much for a roll of 2, because that is a relatively low damage roll. You also pack a lot of attacks into each post. In post one, I was overwhelmed. Ki'irha fell down, got up, reared (with a big cut on her chest) then charged Rikyn. This is a great deal of action that, realistically, would not happen in the time frame of one post.

In post two, I want to note something about the translation of Rikyn's attack to the damage Ki'irha took. Firstly, horse shoulders are very strong, sturdy parts of their body. They are coated in a lot of muscle and the bones are thick and strong. A kick, from a single hoof, would not have the power from Rikyn to send Ki'irha to the ground. Along with that, he only rolled a 3, which is like medium damage. Falling down is pretty equivalent to a critical hit--the most damage possibly taken and dealt. Following this, as the fight went on, you were pretty much ignoring or just barely describing wounds she sustained. It is important to write how the injuries taken effect your character throughout the fight! Another thing to note, is remember that horses get tired. It is not realistic that, with the injuries sustained plus the sickness, Ki'irha would have the strength or stamina to rear in every single attack post.

In post three, your timing and positioning are off. You write that she stabs Rikyn’s shoulder, rears and runs for him, then she gets his attack to the haunches. What the reality was is that Rikyn was parallel to her, had his shoulder stabbed, then stabbed at her haunches. There really should not have been any time to/need to rear and try to attack--because Rikyn was not in front of her.


Up until your last paragraph of your last post, you completely leave out breed differences, the implications of that, and the implications of the surroundings. Even in your last mention, while the breed/stat differences are correct, they are merely a passing remark and have no relevance to the fight--but they should!



Emotion [0.5]
For the real majority of this battle, you fall well under the maximum word count. I encourage you to take hold of every word that is afforded you in battle--particularly in the area of emotion. With Ki'irha there was so much potential for emotion, and I was digging for it, but as a whole you really came up flat. You could have gotten more points for emotion had to gone into more detail about her father’s memory. Also, you write that she is a warrior, but don’t go into a lot of detail. How did she feel when she fell down? When she got up? How does this random guy attacking her make her feel? These are questions you should be asking yourself while writing.

For example, one sentence that really stood out to me was: "The air smelled of blood and sweat and earth and black. She quivered, rage burning into her heart, tensed muscles aching and burning as she exerted herself." I really expected you to set something up here! Instead, you go from "kill kill kill" to pretty much defeat in just a few sentences, with no bridge to get there.



Prose [3.5]
P3: “The stood for a moment…” :: They

Overall, it is apparent that you are a good writer. Just be more careful to proofread your posts in the future.

Readability [2]
Your style is easy to follow and quite enjoyable to read. I encourage you to use better directional language and more powerful emotion words in the future, however!



Finally tally:  33.5(5*2)=  43.5 HP


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture