the Rift


[JUDGED] welcome to the dark side

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#1

He says he finds his strength in giving his affection to another; Nyx manages to keep her face a mask of steel, but one eyebrow lifts sardonically. "To each their own." But a slow, sly smile spreads across the ironheart's face as he adds that it now seems so idiotic - good lad. He continues, and her smile morphs into a full-on shit-eating grin. "Well, I've never been one to follow tradition." Let the Gods fume over the fact they could never break her heart; let them sit in their heavens and muse over ways they can punish her for her way of life, her sheer lack of fucks to give.

It works for her, and she loves it.

Because, as well as protecting her steel-clad heart from the fragile grip of love, and as well as ensuring she never weakens herself by fawning around for a man's affection, it also means her lovers can never be used against her. If she ever did piss off a God, or even a particularly vengeful mortal, she never has to worry about them seizing her mate to blackmail her with. She could march into battle with the same iron-hard determination that she always has, caring not a jot if her enemy harms her kidnapped lover because, after all, he is a sperm donor and nothing more. A dick, helpfully attached to a pair of legs and a beating heart. Sure, she would do her level best to free him, but it certainly wouldn't control her mind during the important business of war. Of course, they could take her children, and like any mother she would move heaven and earth to get them back, but she would also be safe in the knowledge that her offspring had the strongest bloodlines possible, due to her mate selection.

So, as well as being intrisically selfish in its origins, Nyx's methods also ensure her chosen lifestyle of a warrior is not adversely affected by matters of the heart.

It's all purely scientific.

He comes closer and, unbidden, she feels her heart rate increase tenfold. How could it not? He is attractive, and his willingness to fight - and perhaps join her way of life - is certainly appealing to a shallow creature like her. She isn't even in heat, so can't blame nature for the sudden blast of lust that billows through her body, a rampant wildfire that burns her alive. "It'd be rude not to," she says, her voice lowered to a husky purr. Crossing blades with a handsome beast of a stallion? She cannot think of anything she would enjoy more.

"Prepare yourself, my handsome Glazier."

That's all the warning he gets, because in a flash she rids herself of all emotion and becomes a soldier of living steel. Her stormy gaze flickers across him, not to admire the contour of each muscle and each sharp, masculine edge of him (or, at least, not just for that reason), but to hunt for weaknesses and strengths in him. He is bigger than her by a good two hands or so, which pretty much ensures he will be physically stronger than her. But will he be able to move that elephantine body fast enough to escape her lightning-quick flurry of blows?

She has fought larger men dozens of times before. She has a bit of a thing for big brutes, because they sire bigger, stronger children. Also, you need a big hammer for a big nail, if you get her drift, and she fights down a smirk at the thought. She remembers her tangle with Archibald, who was even bigger than this stallion. She'd lost that particular encounter, and since then she has ensured that she has worked on her mistakes, so as never to make them again when facing somebody who dwarfs her. Nor does she allow herself to think of the possible delicious, salacious consequences of losing.

Her assessment complete, she lunges forwards, neck tucking to joust her horn forwards. She aims to approach him head-on, with her muscled legs moving her in a steady canter. Not too out of control, because there's a pool of water nearby and it would be most embarassing if he sidestepped and sent her flying into the river - that isn't the kind of wet she has in mind. At the last possible second, her quick feet dart her body to her left, in an attempt to bring her running parallel to his right side. Her head twists to the right and she aims to run the tip of her horn along his right side, from ribcage to flank; she doesn't try and press too hard, so there's no chance of ripping him open, but she puts enough force behind the attack to make sure he'll feel it if she hits.

SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED

______________________

@Tembovu spar!

Direct continuation of this thread! Set in the Secret Grove. It's up to Smitty whether magic and companions are allowed, I don't mind either way! 3 week timeline if that's alright with you. Good luck! ^^

1/3
799 words


Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.


Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#2


‘It’d be rude not to,’ her response is throaty, teasing in just the right way. His anger leaves his chest for his barrel, stirring blood in its floor. The sensation is familiar and alien, for never has he fought a mare under such… unique circumstances. Sure, he’s engaged in playful rough-housing, but never to the extent that drains the emotion in Nyx’s face and turns her pale body into steel.

It is distracting, this sensation. Though his body and muscles harden beneath her assessing, icy gaze, he is not preparing for battle. His mind is scattered. Rexanna, Alexander, Nyx’s words— all of these ideas swirling through the haze of anger, lust, and hurt in his large skull.

He hadn’t been entirely committed to this spar, he had just followed his fiery thread of anger through the painful fog that had threatened to send him down his hellhole. Did he want to fight right now? Did he want to vie for the chance to mount this mare? He wasn’t entirely certain, but the idea seemed appealing. Extremely appealing. She was athletic, straight forward, and a warrior. Not a lying, manipulative woman.

So, when Nyx’s words were followed so closely by her agile attack, the stud was caught relatively off guard. Especially after calling him ’handsome.’ Show me a man who is immune to the flattery, and I’ll show you a liar.

Thus, her horn— black, spiraled, and sharp— hit its target with shameful ease. It’s slender spike skated across his thick skin, reverberating over his broad ribs like a washboard. It slid across the hardened muscle tensed on his abdomen and sank shallowly into his flank.

The white-hot sting that accompanied the surprise jolted the uncertainty out of his brain. Training took over, responding to the thin line of blood that beaded on his skin and the chunk of gouged flesh on his flank. The fluid was strikingly dark ruby against the silver buckskin— and even brighter against his white banding. The wound nearly traced the black that ran his side, only a few inches above it.

So his trained instincts shoved his hind hooves into the ground, bent his hocks, and gathered his haunches. With speed that was surprising for the mammoth (though not nearly as quick as the silver sphinx he fought), his back curved to the right. Thick columns of back legs sprung away from the Grove’s rich soil as he aimed a double barreled kick at her retreating head and neck. The momentum of his kicked aimed to throw her toward the cypress he had broken earlier. Though it was instinct that drove his legs, so the kick was as hard as if he were in battle— not this violently rough foreplay. His twist and kick put his left side along the water’s edge, his right facing the clearing and Nyx.

His hooves were massive— both of them nearly the size of her skull. Size was usually his strength in battle. It had been the reason for his quick assent through ranks in his previous life. So his body’s instinct was to use his size— at least while his brain was still a mess of tumultuous emotions.

Heartbreak was new for the giant. He had dealt with heart-loss. It was a much more final, gut wrenching, empty affair. But heartbreak was a burning, engulfing feeling.

So he grasped onto this burn as his hind end crashed down to earth. It cleared his mind. A thrill of adrenaline jolted his heavy limbs as they smashed onto the ground. His vision sharpened on the tempting, icy soldier. She was smaller, but quicker. Clearly she had fought more recently than the rusty elephant.

Dark blue eyes are fixed on her, now. Assessing, appreciating, and giving into the earlier, primal instinct that he had ignored. “I might be rusty, but I think it’s the stallion that does the penetrating,” low and rumbling, his voice added sensuality to the joke he made of her attack and his injury.

1/3
Words: 669
Summary: Nyx’s hit opens a long, thin wound along his right side and a gouge in his flank. He bucks and aims a double barreled kick at her neck and head as she runs past his right side.
image credits
- table by Niki -

@Nyx

Please tag Tembovu.

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#3

There's the potent rasp of horn on flesh, and satisfaction floods through the silver soldier as she realises she's hit her mark. Sure, he's a big target, but it is still always a pleasant sensation when her shard of obsidian horn finds its target.

He is quick to retaliate, however. Those titanic hooves of his could knock her head clean off her shoulders if they land a direct hit on her, and it would be a dreadful shame for the ironheart to meet her maker during a lust-fuelled, 'friendly' spar. Her hooves scrabble for purchase on the ground, which they find fairly easily due to the dry conditions. It's a far cry from her previous fight, her night-time tangle with Mauja, when one errant step would have sent her tumbling. Sparring in such differing conditions is something Nyx forces herself to do regularly, in order to ensure she is prepared for any eventuality. After all, armies aren't usually nice enough to choose dry, windless days to invade.

Using the momentum of the hard ground, the mare shies sharply to her left, away from those gigantic hooves. She feels them whistle past the flesh of her neck, making her grey hair stand on end with the sensation of fast-moving cool air. Pain does not frighten the silver soldier, but she cannot deny feeling a burst of relief that the attack missed. Those hooves could have sent her eyeballs spiralling straight out of their sockets, and how would she admire the pretty menfolk of the world without them?

A wicked smile scoots across her features as he speaks, and she snorts her amusement. Ah, he jokes! "Ooh, you're making me blush like a quivering virgin," she returns, her eyes bright with easy laughter. This is what she was born and bred for. Duelling with a handsome stallion, exchanging wit as sharp as their horns, with sweating bodies and heaving muscles. Touching warm, wet skin in pleasure and pain alike, in the most basic and primal dance of nature. It sends a shiver down her spine, and her eyes turn hooded and dark with wanton desire.

Unfortunately, if she wants to sate that desire, she needs to lose this fight. And a warrior like Nyx can never want to lose a fight...or, at least, not admit to wanting to lose a fight. So she will throw her all into it like she always does, and if she wins she will hold her head high and give thanks for a battle well fought. If she loses...well, she'll consent to ease the pain of Tembovu's broken heart with the succour of her body. Any stallion will find his problems considerably lessened if he is nice and relaxed after a thorough seeing-to.

After her dart to the left to avoid his attack, she continues to circle fully to the left - carefully avoiding the broken tree - to try and bring herself facing his right side in a T-shape. Despite her wicked smile and ardour-darkened eyes, her mind is fully focused on the battle at hand. She's still judging him, ascertaining his size, his favoured attacks, his techniques. From their small exchange of blows, she thinks he will use his size to his advantage where possible, and will try to use those gargantuan hooves to crush and break her. She notes to herself to try and stay close to him, not let him wind up another powerful kick towards her.

She gathers as much momentum as she can from her short run-up, heading at a steady collected canter once again. On his other side is the water, and if he moves out of the way she could end up headfirst in it. She thrusts her chest out and aims to slam it into his right ribcage, which is hopefully still sore from her horn attack. He's like a man mountain, so it's unlikely she will be able to push him over, however she hopes she may be able to make him stumble to his left and maybe fall into the water. A dirty trick? She prefers to think of it as using her environment.

Simultaneously her lips peel from her teeth and she aims a sharp nip for his spine, directly in front of where her chest is aiming for. Her blunt teeth won't draw blood, but she hopes she can create a nice bruise, a stinging rebuke.

SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED

______________________

@Tembovu

2/3
732 words


Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.


Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#4


He grunts, a deep primal sound in the face of such a lovely clearing, as his massive hoof makes contact with something. Though it his not his intended target— no, it collides with his own gods-damned leg. Another swath of skin opens on the elephant, this time on the inside of his hind left cannon bone. Luckily, only the skin breaks open, leaving the superficial tissues intact to cover the bone’s surface. But he certainly was going to feel that bone bruise tomorrow.

Perhaps, if he hadn’t been so busy ogling Nyx’s pale, hard hind-end as it swept past him, he could have better paid attention to where his hooves were flying. The pain from the wound Nyx had gouged in his flank had also thrown off the proprioception of his haunches. He snorts, beyond annoyed with himself. What was he, a yearling colt sparring against his first woman?

Ears pinned, though a hard smile cuts through the irritation in his face at her jesting words. “I’d hardly mistake you for a virgin,” his voice is rougher now, as his eyes briefly meet hers— seeing the black pupils dilate with desire against the icy blue irises. His fiery anger (that he had fanned into a flame in order to fight this mare) became instantly distracted by her eyes. By her words. By her clear visceral reaction to the bloodlust and wanton intensity that erupted in the clearing between the two sweaty (now bleeding) bodies.

Now his mind, which had fully embraced the duel, was shouting at his distracted muscles. It seemed the giant’s head and  body could not get on the same page today. This is why you don’t fight while distracted, the angry, distracted, thoughts flash through his skull. Though, perhaps this fight was his distraction. His distraction from the emotional pain he had felt just moments before.

Indeed, the physical ache from his leg and burn from his side were somewhat welcome. But, as these realizes clamor through his head and as his body responds to the desire in Nyx’s athletic frame, he finds himself unguarded against her next attack. Though, luckily, this one does not draw more blood. Her momentum crashes her chest against his bleeding side, forcing a rough snort out of his thick nostrils as she compresses his lung space. He can feel the bruise spread across his ribs, beneath the already open flesh. That will be sore tomorrow.

He takes a half step left with his forelegs, to keep himself from tumbling into the water. His hoof splashes in the shallows as he brings their colliding bodies to the water’s edge. His jaw flexes and his teeth grit in a smile as her teeth hit their mark on his thick withers— a firmly bruising love bite to add his collection of scrapes from this fight. “Though, if you always fight like this, perhaps you are a virgin,” he voice rumbles, impressed, from his barrel as he continues from his earlier comment.

Though now they are in close quarters, her breast smashed against his broad side. He neck reaching to his withers, exposing one of the few delicate expanses of flesh on the warrior. Though he wants to bring his right hind leg and firmly knock it against the slender legs of the mare, the wound she had opened on his flank limits both the range and strength of that leg. So arches his neck, tucks his chin, and assesses the mare with his glittering right eye.

Snaking his thick neck to the right, he opens his large jowls. Pearly white teeth bared, he stretches for the underside of her neck, aiming to bite just above where her pale skin is flush against his buckskin. Though the force behind his teeth is not enough to break the skin, for this is meant as a handle to keep her in place while he swings his haunches nearly half turn to the left. While his mobility to the right his impaired, it is clearly fine to the left. His movements bring a spray of water as his hind end lands and bunches. He ignores the sharp pain that shoots through his bruised left leg as his hooves crash against the watery ground.

He hopes, as he now faces her head on, that the lack of his mass to support her chest will bring her tumbling forward. Perhaps a  vain hope, as she is an agile mare (he notes with appreciation). Regardless, he launches his weight— lacking its usual momentum in such close quarters— to bring his right shoulder crashing into her right side. He angles his horn down, perhaps to nick her flesh in his attack. It wouldn’t be fair for only one of them to be bleeding.


WC: 793
SUMMARY: Hits his own back leg when he tries to kick her from the last attack. She hits her chest against his bleeding side and bites his withers, both bruising/worsening his previous wounds. He aims to bite the underside of her neck to hold her in place and pivots on his forehand about half turn to the left. They would be almost facing each other, him offset to her right. He launches against her, hoping to ram his right shoulder into her right side/shoulder.
image credits
- table by Niki -


@Nyx

Please tag Tembovu.

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#5

His first words draw another short, joyful laugh from the depths of her throat. Hell, this is fun. Blood and banter, all in one sexy bundle? This is her kind of fight. "A girl never kisses and tells," she purrs, her voice far huskier than it has any right to be.

She is just a sucker for the D, isn't she?

Her chest slams into him, and the recoil ignites a dull ache in the area of impact. An occupational hazard of trying to rugby tackle someone twice your weight, she supposes. Her teeth find their mark as well, and she swiftly withdraws her head like a striking snake, so as not to expose her throat for too long in case his horn should aim for it. There's a solid splash as one or more of his massive hooves hit the water, not quite the dramatic tumble she'd dared hope for, but progress nonetheless.

Another snort of amusement erupts from her nostrils as he speaks again, her eyes glittering through their lust-darkened irises. The smirk ghosting across her lips is quickly smothered as she feels a sharp nip against the outside right of her lower neck, and a painful bruise blossoms at the impact point where his teeth collide with her tight flesh. Ouch. She'd been so distracted with his words and his pretty, pretty booty that she'd let her concentration slip, a vital error in any battle. Mercifully, he doesn't gain a grip because her head is tucking at the time, so his teeth only scrape against moving flesh - thus she is not held in place. "And if you keep fighting like this, you may get to find out," she says, one blue eye shutting in a coquettish wink. She hasn't been pure for about seven years, but the notion of a shy, innocent Nyx might just fill his stallion's mind with such lust that he gets weighed down by his own balls like a pair of hairy anchors. She's seen that happen to men in battles with her before. Most amusing, and most fatal - for them.

His hind end begins to pivot to the left, trying to bring them face to face. Here she hopes her superior agility will benefit her, as his size hopefully means he turns like a double-decker bus. The ironheart launches her weight to her left as his meaty side moves away, to try and run alongside him again, right side to right side. As she does, she applies her brakes with the aid of the hard ground below, although her front hooves still splash into the edge of the water before she grinds to a halt. As a result of her movement, his shoulder-barge and horn-jab miss their mark - if he's sticking something into her today, it won't be his horn.

She flings her weight forwards onto her forelegs, whilst her back legs lift upwards and sprawl to the right in a vicious cow-kick. She aims a double-hooved blow for his right side, directly towards the wound she made with her horn. He is already struggling to use that side effectively, so one more blow to it could hopefully spin the battle in the silver's favour. She keeps reminding herself that this is only a spar, and a spar which could actually benefit her more if she loses (it's been so long since she had a man that she's afraid there will be cobwebs on her unmentionables), but her warrior instincts keep overriding her female weakness.

It also occurs to her that this is her first fight for a while without Dominus by her side. She can feel his presence nearby now, like a beast in the shadows, but he makes no attempt to enter the battle. From their mental bond, she can tell that this is no act of negligence on his part - he is trying to help her, by giving her a chance to fight on her own again. It does worry her that she may become too reliant on her magic and companion rather than her own physical prowess, so the lion is probably correct in that it will do her good to spar without his assistance once in a while. She needs to think of his claws and teeth, and her own electrically-charged body, as added bonuses in a fight, rather than things she needs in order to win.

Besides, he knows when to steer clear of her. Whenever there's a chance of the silver getting pounded like the fist of an angry god, he stays well away. He is a feline, after all, afflicted by very catlike jealousy. Seeing her share her body with another man makes rage bubble inside his heart, so he chooses to block it out and pretend that she is his and his alone.

SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED

______________________

@Tembovu

3/3
800 words (love it when that happens!)


Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.


Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#6


Her fiery, flirtatious words have the desired effect on the hulking, bleeding stallion. Despite him suspecting her intent to distract him, he still cannot help the images that eagerly flash through his lust-driven mind. A flagged, black tail teasingly waving before him. Her glistening white coat darkened to silver with sweat beneath his gripping forelimbs. Sweat and blood and grunts filling the clearing. It was an enticing diversion, to be certain. And extraordinarily engrossing.

These images fly through his head, just as his attack flies through the air— entirely missing Nyx. Damn. He snorts in consternation. This agile nymph is a sexual mass of frustration for the stallion. He pins his black-rimmed ears flush with his skull. “I’m not so sure—” CRACK— his jesting response to her debauched banter was cut off in a rush of breath and a breathless groan. Her well-aimed, double-barreled kick hit its mark with excruciating precision.

The low crack that split the air as her onyx hooves connected with his side had to have been one of his ribs. Though they were thick slabs of rigid bone, her earlier horn slash and contusing impact must have created a weak spot in one of their lengths. His right knee buckled as the air fled his right lungs. His great head lowered slightly in response to the lack of oxygen in his chest. But his left foreleg stayed locked, trembling slightly beneath his weight and shock of breathlessness. The lightly shaking leg was the only thing that kept the elephant from crashing to his knees. He was somewhat surprised that it held, for it seemed that the rest of his combat training had left him. Too much time schmoozing for his revenge in Dorobo and crafting things here in Helovia had made him rusty in battle.

Thick nostrils flare as they tried to shove air into his battered chest. Battered physically as well as emotionally, now. Though his muscles scream for oxygen, the cracked bone protested painfully against the expansion of his chest wall. Shaking his head slightly, he stiffly swung his right side away from the mare, exposing only his left side to her. He would have to be careful in his next attack— he wasn’t sure his right side would hold up to another hit like that.

Azure eyes, now clear of lust in the face of the pain shooting through him, clearly assess the (mighty fine— so maybe not entirely free of lust) haunches of Nyx that are exposed to him as she lands from her vicious kick. Her hind end, given the state of his right side, was not a good place to attack. Well, perhaps attack at a later time with different intentions. But, in the current moment, his battle expertise was not warranted there.

And his chest and front end were rather ragged too. It was time to use his own, amply powerful haunches. So, lacking the speed he had during the beginning of the fight, he continued his turn on the forehand. His robust, towering rump bunches tightly, muscles straining against the black and barred hide. Then he releases, like a cannon, all the energy coiled in the sinew. Back hooves fly out out towards the ivory and onyx warrior. He does not hold back— mainly because he does not know if his attack will hit (and his right side aches).

Though one thing is for certain: the cold ache in his heart and burning shame he had felt when Rexanna had rejected the Edge (and, by proxy, him) was mitigated. This battle of wills, of lust, of wicked ways had diverted his attention away from the myriad of emotions. It had allowed perspective and clarity to enter his chest. And libido to run rampant in his barrel and mind. This was baffling and illuminating all at once. The hurt from before bwas but a rain cloud over the raging inferno of battle-lust.

These thoughts swirl, muted and buried beneath the salacious thirst that bathes the glen. A thirst that cannot be quenched by the water Nyx lands in. He braces himself for the impact of his hooves hitting either the mare or the ground. Either will hurt his right side.
image credits
- table by Niki -


@Nyx
3/3
Summary: Her kick cracks a rib. He spins an tries to double-barrel her back.
WC: 705

Please tag Tembovu.

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow
#7

There's a sickening crunch as her hooves collide with a rib, and her eyes widen in horror. "Whoops, shit, sorry," she yelps. She hadn't meant to injure him that badly - this is a spar, and he is a herdmate. Typical that in normal full-blooded fights she can barely hit a cow's arse with a banjo, but in a friendly spar she manages to break a friggin' bone. Now she's sort of morally obliged to sate his lusts as pennance for her bone-smashing sins, isn't she?

Which is certainly her favourite way of apologising.

But his revenge is swift, and it is painful. As she slows to a halt with her forelegs submerged up to the knee in water, she hears the telltale thunder of his colossal hooves that means he's gearing up for another attack. She takes a wild guess and swivels to her left, but with her aching limbs from another long, hearty battle, her speed and agility are compromised - it's like turning in a dream, slow and ponderous. She can't turn away fast enough, and THUD! His massive back hooves slam into her backside, on the right cheek of her ass and a little bit onto her right flank, too. Pain floods her as his attack crunches into the thick muscle and skin of her back end, immediately seizing up the unfortunate area. A bruise explodes into life, vivid and black-purple against her silver hide, and so deep it seems to have migrated down into the furthest part of her muscles.

The force of the blow sends her hindquarters sprawling to the left, and it's only sheer good fortune that she doesn't tumble completely over. When she tries to move her hindlegs, it sends an explosion of agony through her injured right flank, and she thanks the Gods that the fight has neared its natural conclusion because using her back legs to attack would be completely out. A short, breathy gargle of a pained laugh escapes her. "You know you can feel my ass anytime," she says, her voice breathless with the pain. "But maybe not with your hooves next time, yeah?" A grin darts across her face. If she is to indulge him with the succour of her body, she can only hope her now-injured hind end will be able to take his considerable weight.

With the final amount of energy she possesses, she hobbles around to face him, fire burning in her eyes and sweat liberally coating her body, darkening her grey to the hue of old iron.

SOMEDAY WE MAY SEE A WOMAN KING, SWORD IN HAND, SWING AT SOME EVIL AND BLEED

______________________

Great fight Smitty! <3

Closing Defense
422 words


Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.


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

NYX
Realism [3]
Overall, you have a good grasp at battling. It is apparent that you take time to think about your responses carefully, and you know horses to a degree. You know what it takes to be a good fighter, and that means including your character’s history, the differences in breeds and stats between the characters, and the environment. However, I felt those areas all lacking in this spar. You mention them, but simply that—there is no reason given behind them, no implications to this fight right now, and so could merely be seen as a footnote. I suggest really digging into these areas (and emotion) because they can help you discover your characters more deeply.

In post two, you slip into slight powerplay. You write: “Her blunt teeth won't draw blood” in reference to Nyx’s bite. However, what if the dice rolled a huge damage and Tembovu wanted to write the bite as breaking the skin? This—albeit simple—statement really limits your opponent on interpreting damage as they see fit—which is the freedom they should always hold.

I felt you did a good job translating the dice rolls into damage.

Emotion [2.5]
Throughout your fight I really felt Nyx. I liked how she was conflicted with whether or not to lose and sleep with Tembovu, or to win and hold her warrior status over him. Her dialogue had me enticed and still laughing. Excellent job!

Although this does not affect your score, I especially liked this line from your closing defense: “Typical that in normal full-blooded fights she can barely hit a cow's arse with a banjo, but in a friendly spar she manages to break a friggin' bone. Now she's sort of morally obliged to sate his lusts as pennance for her bone-smashing sins, isn't she?”

Prose [3]
Your posts were well thought out and written with a good, unique style. I can tell that you know your character and that your writing really reflects that. There were no noticeable mistakes in your grammar which made reading your posts a joy as well.

Readability [2]
Your posts were easy to read and understand. Following Nyx through her emotional struggle of lust and fighting was beautiful.

Finally tally: 44.5(10.5*2)= 65.5HP

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

TEMBOVU
Realism [1]
For being a new fighter, I think you have a good grasp on fighting! I definitely encourage you to keep sparring, because you seem to have a natural inclination toward it in your writing. You did a good job of taking the damage of the critical miss onto yourself in regards to the dice rolled. As a whole, really, you did a good job of translating the dice rolls into the damage you took.

However, there were some instances of powerplay. Firstly, in post one you write: “his right facing the clearing and Nyx”. This is problematic because you cannot say for sure that Nyx is still in that same position—she had plenty of time to move. The other instance of powerplay was in post two, when you write: “Though the force behind his teeth is not enough to break the skin”. This is powerplay the same reason as Nyx was knocked off for it—it limits your opponents response. The dice are not always in favor of what you write. Your opponent also has the total freedom to determine the damage they take (within the dice roll or facing penalty) and you as their opponent should not put them in a box. Lastly, in post two, you powerplay by writing “as he now faces her head on”. Try to use language that shows intent rather than certainty, i.e “tried”, “attempted”, “aimed”, etc.

Another big thing I thought with realism, was maintaining the injury on his side throughout the fight. With that injury, Tembovu is able to double-barrel kick Nyx one post, but not able to barely lift his leg to kick her the next, but then is able again to double-barrel kick her in the following post. The disparity here between these posts and the injuries taken was a really large dock to your realism score.

As a whole, I think you did a good job for just starting out. Keep fighting!

Emotion [2.5]
I really enjoyed reading Tembovu in this spar, above your beautiful writing. I felt connected to this character. I could see faint glimpses of his history, but I could really see where his time off took a toll on him more than just physically. I also enjoyed reading him in the wake of the Rexanna-heartbreak. It was really well done.
“I might be rusty, but I thinkit’s the stallion that does the penetrating,”’ – This had me laughing right out loud, literally.

Prose [2]
P2: “as these realizes clamor through his head” – these realizations
:: “he voice rumbles” – his voice
:: “He neck reaching to his withers” – Her neck
:: “he swings his haunches nearly half turn to the left” – nearly a half
P3: “The hurt from before bwas but” – was

Readability [1.5]
Your writing is beautiful, and even though there were some grammar mistakes I felt the posts generally easy to follow and understand. However, in your first post you break up his reaction to her attack with a description of how the blood looked on his coat, separating the initiation of the reaction and the actual reaction to two different paragraphs. This really made the post feel disjointed.

Finally tally: 27.5(7*2)= 41.5HP


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