the Rift


[JUDGED] Senses Lost [Ashamin v. Erebos]

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#1



"LOCHAN?" the haruspex called into the dark, his black eyes widening and his whites showing in fear. But he could hear nothing, not even his own hoofbeats. There was nothing but the howling wind and the whirling of leaves as they swirled and stuck to his rainsoaked pelt. He made it to shelter, but it was too late.

If this could even be called shelter. What sort of shelter was an endless maze? What sort of shelter was the grave of a god?

No, Ashamin had not forgotten that battle. It would be a very long, long time before he could forget it. Perhaps he would never forget. He was plagued with memory just as he was plagued with loneliness. He could form as many relationships as he wanted, could bond as deeply as he had with Lochan, but still he felt alone.

Alone, alone, alone. But if he could find Lochan in this dark, would that heart wrenching feeling be cured? How long would he be craving touch and affection before that hole in his heart was filled?

Ashamin ran through the labyrinth until he could run no more and the greenery became too thick. He crashed and forced his way through the branches, gritting his dull teeth as he resisted nature's force. He would find Lochan, he had to.

He could not lose all senses again. Not now when he was so vulnerable. He wore his mask like a monster and his heart like a father, or son. Which one was he? His sarong--unknotted--fluttered and snagged. Soon it would be useless, if he didn't get it mended. Soon he would try and hang it on the wall of his cave and it would fall like rags from a wound.

Wounds, wounds... everything felt like a new one. Ashamin could barely see, was forcing himself to think and stay cool, and his companion was gone. Was there any wound greater than that failure to understand?

A rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning bathed the scene in light and blinded the skull-masked haruspex. Lochan had to be near, he had to close and safe. But how would Ashamin find him now?

A S H A M I N




image credit || Tags:


WC: 363/800
PC: 0/3 Attack 0/1 Defense
Timeline: Standard
Setting: Green Labyrinth late on a stormy night. Sliver of a moon, very difficult to see, and strong winds, thunder, and rain that make it difficult to hear or sense the surroundings.
Summary: Ashamin and Lochan run into the Labyrinth seeking shelter and get lost/separated.
Notes: Heather is OOC teaching for me, thanks Heather! :)


See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead


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
#2
EREBOS
He was lost.
 
The prince had been that way before: without purpose, without drive, without any motive but the need to find something, anything, to fulfill his twisted longings and feral yearnings.
 
But this way was different, literal, without allegory or symbolism, because his distracted mind (rattled and addled by the nature of current events, fallen Gods, vengeful ideas) hadn’t sorted out the possibility of wandering far beyond his knowledge. In this state, ignorance was not bliss. The enigmatic unknown, the previously beguiling, flickering wiles of leaves, meadows, and sprawling passages had taken a vile turn. What would have intrigued him throughout the morning suddenly fueled his desire to escape.
 
Day dwindled into evening before panic truly set in and his once content, contemplative, calculating mind began to snag in apprehensive coils. Shadows shifted in midnight decadence. Predators roamed the dusky hollows. He jumped at the sound of snapping twigs. Orsino growled at unseen, unholy shapes – and Erebos suddenly felt the weight of dread, of panic, of fear.
 
It was disturbing. It cut through his heart and wavered along his ribs, pulsing and pervading and notching a maddening quiver through his skull, until he wandered and wandered deeper into the thicket, ignoring his kitsune’s snorts and hisses, persistent in attempting to solve his dilemma, but becoming unraveled, unfurled, at every turn.
 
Erebos hated it. It was disgusting and foul, to be incensed and caught in the webs of alarm and trepidation. Where was his boldness? His valor? His courage? Had he been a hypocrite all along?
 
His breathing erupted in short, callous, bitter waves, pooling into the air as the thunder roared above them and lightning cracked and any remaining fiber of his bravery began to decay, because he’d been a silly, stupid fool, they should’ve never been out here –
 
He swung his head beneath a low-hanging bough and the blue boy’s gaze fell upon an eerie scene. For naught more than a few seconds, he was sure he’d seen a ghost, some merciless phantom writhing and crawling through the eaves; masked by only a skull, formed by some minstrel of death and damnation.
 
Fight or flight, his brain recalled. Senses snapped and thoughts slowed to an ugly, deluded crawl, blinded by the wraith coming for him – he’d seen monsters, he’d helped do away with infidel beings.
 
Could he do the same now to save his own skin? If he didn’t chase after the devil, would it pursue him?
 
His lungs seized, but his stance shifted. Instead of becoming illuminated in the still silence, he threaded his way into a curtain of branches and leaves, allowing the rain to claw through his vision, trace shadows over his eyes. Here was the time to act – here was the time to show what he was made of.
 
They roamed closer, the pair of cretins felled by curiosity (if it killed the cat, would it slay the boy?), and the lad recalled Orsino’s gift, his talents, his abilities; asked and pleaded for a chance, for an opportunity, to brandish them all over again.
 
The miniature cretin was obliging, sinister, savage, and as they advanced towards where they’d last seen the figure, Erebos was not Erebos – but a mirage of bestial quality, briefly altered and transformed through layers of deceit and illusion, hallucinations cast in wide, brutal shades. His skull was a disturbing, unearthly caricature, wolfish and long, ivory-fanged, jaws snapping and clenching, carnivorous and rapacious – a demon borne from Lucifer.
 
Would it scare the other away? Would he be free to run from this wicked place? Was this enough pluck, enough daring, to make him feel less defeated, alone, and afraid? Was this the searing boldness he’d be known for, or the callous, nefarious instinct deep within all of their darkened hearts?
 
And when he thought he was close enough to his living nightmare, slow and stalking, unsure if he’d advanced adequately or if the beast had vanished into the twilight’s storm, he attempted to swing his cranium and his sword to the right, dissolving the delusion, hoping to puncture the fellow fiend’s right shoulder.

[1/3 + 0/1 defense. 682 words.
- Nice setting Jen! This'll be fun! ^__^
Panicked and unnerved by the storm and labyrinth, Erebos sees Ashamin as a skull-faced monster. Instead of fleeing, he uses Orsino’s dark illusions magic to look like a wolf-headed equine, hoping to scare away Ashamin. He attempts to get closer and swing his horn towards Ashamin’s right shoulder.

- OOC commentary/teaching notes will start after your first attack. Good luck!]

Image Credit


@Ashamin

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#3



Darkness hid fear.

When at last Ashamin was found by another, it was not any sort of company he could have expected. Before him was an obscene and grotesque figure, a monster by all definitions. It didn't occur to the haruspex that he looked like a demon himself, with his skull-masked face and his hollow, endless gaze.

Were it not for the lightning still flashing its memory in his vision and making it difficult to make out the perfect detail of the dark magic, he would have feared the other more concretely. But as it were he considered the other to be only an illusion. He feared wolves but he had been scolded for fighting ghosts before, back when he had tried to defend Lochan's egg from a snake that was nothing but air. What good would it be to fight back or run in fear when he could simply move past? He had fought the Wolf God and overcome his terror then because it was worth it--because he was protecting someone, fighting for his herd and his home. This wasn't a fight to bother with, though. This was just a ghost in a storm.

It was a test of his own courage and confidence, but one that he could not afford to fail. He turned his body away from the spectre, telling himself all the while it wasn't real--couldn't be real. Not in this darkness and terrible storm, not when his mind was susceptible. He started slow at first, trotting to his left cautiously while the fangs glinted and the fur matted down with the torrent from above. He would not be frozen in fear, he would be careful. No sudden movements, no sudden...

Wait.

The haruspex's black eyes widened as whatever magic had made the vision faded slowly and the true stranger--along with a dark and nearly invisible fox--were revealed. Ashamin could barely make them out, not with raindrops dripping from the edges of the bear skull and into his eyes, not with the wind whipping branches in between them. But the stallion wasn't just a ghost, and he couldn't ignore them or their companion. These two were fools fighting in shadows, and Ashamin would catch them.

The painted buck sped up, his trot turning into a canter and his leftward trajectory turning back to the right once he had cleared the other stallion's now, from Ashamin's perspective, right-swinging front. Slowly the haruspex turned and slowed, approaching the other figure's right side in the dark. He feared for Lochan's safety, especially now, but this was a threat that had to be neutralized first. Whomever this dark warlock was, he had to be subdued.

With certainty he moved faster, body tilting forward and head angled to try and avoid the rain's bitter sting in his eyes. Thunder from old flashes rumbled belatedly, deafening the seer. Cold overtook him as water splashed from the labyrinth's pools and up his legs, but he would not be numbed into weakness. All he had in him was strength.

When Ashamin estimated that the distance between them might be smaller, when he had aimed to try and face the stranger's right side at a 60 degree angle from behind, he reared and rose above whatever fool had sought to light his fire tonight. The assault was wordless, tireless, and merciless. You could try and scare him all you want, but you couldn't take the haruspex down so easily.

His forehooves, sharp and cleft, aimed for the spine of the shade with persistence. First he lowered his head just to avoid the first spidery limbs that heralded another flash of lightning, but the moment that it flashed and he could see his enemy more clearly he let his lips part and clamp down, hopefully on a tender part of the neck on the taller stallion's left. If all went as planned Ashamin would strike down with fury in his dagger-like hooves and use the bite to not only steady himself so he could land (hopefully pulling the attacker down with his body-weight as he did so) and do some extra damage, as well.

Maybe Ashamin was shooting before asking questions, but he hadn't been able to filter out the fear of the wolf that had first affected him, or the emptiness that Lochan's absence had impressed upon his being. Darkness hid fear, perhaps, but the dim persistence of the moon and the sharp pangs of the storm's strikes would always reveal it. Nothing could be hidden forever.

A S H A M I N



image credit || Tags:


WC: 752/800
PC: 1/3 Attack 0/1 Defense
Notes: SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY BOLDED EVERYTHING. If you take the bite, note the enchantment on Ashamin's mask makes his bite strength that of a bear.


See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead


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
It was madness. He thrust through a dark and twisted cataclysm all to save face. All to appear brave, stalwart, and staunch, so he didn’t shudder or quiver or worry about the art of cowardice and its weak, disgusting qualities.
 
He didn’t feel courageous or daring anymore. He felt stupid.
 
The wolf-mask faded, much like his bravado, and he was overcome by the notion of nothing – his horn penetrated nothing, he saw nothing, he cast nothing. His motions, his movements, his sentiments had been completely, utterly undone, and his rampage ended with a collision into a nearby tree, too dark to see. His left shoulder ground against the bark in a fierce, unwinding bite, like thorns, like nettles, like spikes, piercing and lacerating at his skin, limbs altered into claws, pulling away hide and revealing blood.
 
The boy didn’t cry out, but he wanted to. He’d known pain, and now he knew the taste, the acerbic, bitter relish, of fear, and the combination was sickening, surrounding, penetrating his mind so all he could see, touch, hear, were the barbs of the monster coming back – because he’d pursued, because he’d persisted, and he was going to pay for his actions.
 
The prince leapt forward, desperate and wretched, struggling to find swiftness between his sore, aching shoulder and the wet ground, but he could only race so far into the unknown (where was the end to this maze, to this hell?) – he was not Theseus, he held no thread to unwind and unravel the direction of home, of safety, of sanctuary – and the ursine demon was behind him, somewhere in the midst of the rain and twilight.
 
Orsino hissed and growled amongst the underbrush, snapping his thoughts in brutal, vicious haste, because the scion needed to keep it together, to become restored, to cease running and fight. The creature, perhaps just as gnarled and wicked as the skies and the storm, clenched his jaw and reeled through their connection, belligerent, harsh. He comes, and you flee?! No prince, no prince! Where courage? Then, because he was another one of the sick, sinister, twisted things amongst the cretins, he uttered one more bristling, soulless phrase. Sire would not run.
 
No, the Reaper wouldn’t have escaped. Erebos knew his father would have turned and done anything in his power to annihilate his enemy.
 
Was that what he needed to do?
 
His mind was a mess, a rapid flurry of changing sentiments and raw, unfettered panic, and it only escalated as the sound of hooves drove ever closer, towards his right side, near his hind; a whisper on the wind, between the pelting raindrops and the thunder clouds – he tried to dodge to the left, but his shoulder ached and split his skull with the agonizing pain. The beast scraped at his spine, hooves dragged across his back, and the sensation of torment was paramount again, grinding and unwinding, merciless because he’d been foolish enough to encounter another and want to be rid of them.
 
He moved forward, darted, tried to unleash a burst of speed to get away from the foul cretin, and felt the sharp, piercing juncture of a bite glide along the right side of his neck, taking hold of pelt and dragging its fangs down, elongating from his neck to his right shoulder, and both sides of his body were searing, but he was still upright, still mobile.
 
What was to be done then? Was he doomed from the start, a lad who had sought to conquer a monster?
 
Was this how it was to be when he eventually tried to annihilate the Colossus? Was this fate? Was this the Gods’ way of telling him he had no chance? That he was weak, pathetic, fragile?
 
A roll of rage crashed through him, and he took the sole opportunity granted to him. He kicked out towards the beast, hoping to nail him in the chest, trying, praying, to impair him in some way, to grant him just as much pain. The scion’s shoulders told him to cease, abruptly haunted his mind with their penchant for misery, but he ignored, ignored, ignored, too embroiled in this fickle, capricious state. Instead of being paralyzed by his injuries again, he channeled the righteous fury, the glorious hate, the ravaging wrath, into an unwinding scope of his enchantments. If the kick managed to find skin, muscle, or sinew, he aimed to do more than just grind hoof into flesh – but also unleash a vicious torrent of fire.

[2/3 + 0/1 defense. 751 words.
Due to his critical miss, Erebos does not hit Ashamin, and instead, due to the overwhelming darkness, collides his left shoulder into a tree. The bark scrapes at his hide and draws blood.
 
As Ashamin gets closer, he tries to dodge to the left, but is not fast enough. Ashamin’s hooves scrape along his back. Erebos then darts forward, and Ashamin’s bite, instead of hitting the left side of his neck, drags along the right side and down his shoulder.
 
Using their close quarters for opportunity, Erebos kicks out towards Ashamin’s chest, trying to use his fire magic in case he manages to touch him, intending to set him ablaze.]
Image Credit


@Ashamin
Notes:
 
What Went Well:
* I loved the tone and atmosphere you set for the setting. Too often we spar in a plain, open field, and this storm and labyrinth really allow to both of us to embody and use the surroundings to our benefit – and since that counts towards points for the spar, I’m pleased we get to use it so effectively.
 
* I enjoyed how you used his past experiences to drive him into the fight and to feel confident.
 
* Directions! Yes! Include them! Always! Thank you!
 
 
To Work On:
* When you’re considering your attacks, be careful about how height would affect some of the outcomes. I was very confused in Ashamin’s rearing attack and reaching across to Erebos’ left side, because Erebos is 16.1hh and Ashamin is only 15.2hh, and even when rearing, that’s quite a bit of height difference.
 
Also I don’t believe this is entirely plausible: If all went as planned Ashamin would strike down with fury in his dagger-like hooves and use the bite to not only steady himself so he could land (hopefully pulling the attacker down with his body-weight as he did so) and do some extra damage, as well. A bite is not going to pull down a horse, especially one larger than Ashamin, even if it has the strength of an enchanted mask, I would think. I’m not sure how strong this mask is or what the restrictions are.
 
* Emotion. While your writing was still wonderful, I felt it was lacking some pieces of emotion that I know Ashamin has. If he was afraid, even if he was hiding it, he can still show that inwardly. What was he feeling as this thing was heading towards him? How was he feeling about being delayed from finding Lochan? Why did he want to catch them? Tell me more – because emotion becomes a big piece in the scoring.
 
* Simplifying. There’s no harm in only doing one or two attacks. I actually find that easier, so the timing isn’t difficult to configure. Ashamin unleashed three attacks at once; any more and we’ll be heading into overkill. It’s ultimately your preference, but when things start to get confusing, it goes downhill from there.

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#5



Ashamin did not smile or snort with success; his face was set with seriousness, down-turned and steady. This was a fight for defense, nothing more. What was there to take pleasure in when every moment that this stranger delayed him Lochan was lost and calling for him?

Ashamin's large ears turned away, and he let his focus slip. That sound, yes... Lochan really was calling for him. He wasn't imagining that, was he?

Though he was lucky enough to still make some purchase, his onslaught stuttered at the phantom sound of his companion and the aim of his bite was drastically thrown off. No matter how he tried to stay focused on what was ahead, the soft lowing of Lochan somewhere in the distance had turned his head ever so slightly, and when his teeth clenched on flesh he found them dragging away and down the other buck's right.

Weakly he let go, his hooves landing in a shallow puddle (maybe of blood, maybe of rainwater) and his eyes glazing over with loss. That cry--Lochan had to be near. He wanted to call out, keep searching around him, forget this fight, but the attack that came next prevented him from falling completely away. The haruspex was lucky enough to see a flicker of light catch on the enemy's hooves and dart to his right, avoiding the full force of his attacker's buck. But he wasn't lucky enough to avoid it completely.

The other stallion's right hoof struck Ashamin with an amount of force that would have been easy to shrug off, if not for the magic behind the kick. The painted buck gritted his teeth as the stranger's kick pressed against the left edge of his chest and then followed the haruspex's forward motion, trailing off against Ashamin's shoulder on the same side. Like a strike-anywhere it dragged across the seer's flesh, leaving a trail of embers that first sparked outwards and then returned to speckle Ashamin's slowly forming, soft bruises with burnt patches and searing hurt. Their contact hadn't been enough to set the whole paint aflame, but it had been enough to warn him that there was magic inside his attacker, and magic he had to be wary of.

Ashamin spat, lips filling with froth as the pain crawled along his left shoulder and chest like fire ants bogged down by honey. His instinct was to slam against this stranger but he thought better of the idea at the last moment, realizing that to put any pressure on this newly aching side would only do him more harm.

What he needed was time--time to recover and escape the close-quarters this fight had been boxed into. Ashamin searched frantically for something to save him in the dark as he ran, trying to speed up and get ahead of or at least beside the other stallion. What he needed was to find Lochan and get out of there, but his companion wasn't going to be found so easily.

No, Lochan was the perceptive one. Lochan would find Ashamin.

And at the perfect moment, exactly when he was needed, Lochan burst forth from the underbrush and threw himself into the chaos of the fight. His eyes burned white through the shadow, and though he stumbled with the force of the wind and the whipping leaves tumbling from bamboo branches and onto his small figure, he had the tenacity to fight for his bonded. Lochan's strength was unique. Now and in the light, Ashamin had prayed for it.

The paint had no time to respond to his companion's arrival, but he let the sight of Lochan safe and sound propel him forward. Dark mists swirled from the cerndyr's budding antlers as he ran between Ashamin and the attacker, allowing the haruspex to peel away to his right and create the much needed distance that the conflict had been lacking. As Ashamin ran off he whipped his coil-covered tail above Lochan and towards the stranger, hoping to strike the shadow's likely rain-soaked hide with a flash of electricity.

As the painted buck ran and turned, slowed by the pain in his shoulder, he could barely make out his companion's small form in the wind. The place where Lochan had been was consumed by black mists--mists that rose and stretched towards the enemy, seeking to cloud and confuse. How fitting, the haruspex thought, that such power would reveal itself in the shadows of a storm. How strengthened he was by the sight of the mists twirling and spreading with menacing thickness--how glad he was that their pair was together again.

A S H A M I N



image credit || Tags:


WC: 766/800
PC: 2/3 Attack 0/1 Defense
Notes: Thank you for your notes! Very excited about this spar and can't wait to see the aftermath. :P


See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead


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
The light of his fire blinded him for a moment. It stretched beyond the pools of darkness and the thunderstorm, penetrating the shrouds and veils with a vigilant, burning flare – he only had snippets to be proud, to be satisfied he’d managed to hit the other beast. But the illumination also dipped into the curves, holes, and sockets of the bear skull, and haunted the dips and pits of the monster. He was still being hunted.
 
It hadn’t been enough.
 
Was he going to die here? Was he going to fall apart within the arms of a maze, amidst the fierce, ferocious tempest, lost, desolate, and massacred?
 
The panic drove through his chest all over again; his heart beat in violent, hazardous crescendos, wild and savage, belligerent and frightened. The prince, impaired by the shadows, by apprehension, failed to notice another join their fray. He didn’t see the eerie, ghostly fixtures glinting in the Stygian abyss. He didn’t witness the murky shroud he ran straight into.
 
The scion’s vision blurred and his breaths coiled into rapid, contorted measures. His mind swam, his membrane sputtered, and he was left with nothing but strange, contorting thoughts. His movements slowed, jaw slackened, and gaze touched over shadows and lightning, everything conspiring against him. Where was he? What was going on? Why did his blood boil and why did his heart seize and why was he so ensnared, enticed, into brutality?
 
Then a shock bristled across his right hind, piercing and harsh, unrelenting and disastrous – a stinging cacophony, discordant and vigilant, hide sizzling and more hair falling away. Was it from the lightning? The monster? Had he been tarnished again?
 
He wanted to weep, wanted to cry, wanted to fall upon his knees and beg for forgiveness for all the stupid things he’d done. Bludgeoned by the haze, by the pain mauling his shoulders and hind, he moved slowly, listlessly, trembling in the wake of terror he’d caused, he’d started.
 
While the boy, cloaked and choked in mist, stared into oblivion, mind racing and panic searing, the sable kitsune took matters into his own claws. Frustrated, fangs clenching, he screamed through their connection, through their bond, Snap out of it! Fight! Fight!, and when the idiot failed to respond – he unleashed his own accord.
 
The other companion, nestled amongst the underbrush, beneath the wild mist and the noxious fumes, had to be destroyed. He stalked the bushes and the long grass, tangling his way through the woods, until his gilded stare took in the pale stature of the fawn’s eyes. Orsino, twisted, distorted, and sinister, attempted to make no sound, silent and deadly, and leapt, intending to tumble into the deer’s right side, bite, gnaw, scratch, annihilate.
 
Moments thereafter, Erebos’ mind returned, lifted away from the cloud, from the fog, and the anger came with it. Raw and real, vicious and hazardous, it curled over the trepidation and dread, because all he wanted to do was survive, all he wanted to do was live, and this creature was in his way.
 
He had too many things to do, too many plots to unravel, too many disasters to cause, to simply wither and decay here.
 
The prince lunged back into the folds of darkness, searching and conspiring, trying to find the edges of frames and figures; and there, illuminated again by only a brief spark of lightning, did he see the caustic beast.
 
His shoulders ached and his movements were sedate, every inch of him screamed and rippled through agony, but the avaricious gleam within his skull kept him moving. Too greedy, insatiable, the fiend drove deeper into the labyrinth – mind ablaze, body on fire. He maneuvered amidst the brush and the thicket and this ridiculous, absurd maze, to fell the Minotaur. With one last stroke of nefarious intentions, the lad attempted to rush towards the fiend’s left side, brandishing his sword, his cutlass, his rapier, and tried to lacerate the other’s barrel.
 
Pain for pain, he thought, and somewhere in between the chaos and destruction, Orsino cackled.


[3/3 + 0/1 defense. 673 words.
Unaware of Lochan’s arrival, Erebos wanders straight into his dark mist attack. Disoriented and confused, he has no way of blocking Ashamin’s attack and feels the sting of his tesla coil across his right hind. Pelt falls away and leaves a sizzling wound.
 
Orsino attempts to find Lochan and tackle his right side, intending to bite and claw the other companion.
 
Released from the control of the dark mist magic, Erebos stalks Ashamin again. In pain, slow, and lumbering, he attempts to reach Ashamin’s left side and stab his barrel with his horn.]
Image Credit


@Ashamin
What Went Well:
 
* Attack Simplifying: Thank you! The timing felt so much better, it was easier to understand, and didn’t seem overwhelming or overdone.
 
* Damage Taking: I thought this was very on point with what the dice had rolled. It’s always trick to figure out how much to take and how much it should affect your character – you seemed spot-on to me.
 
* Your post overall was easy to understand. Its smooth, didn’t have any typos, and very clear. We know the judges need clarity in our posts, and I think you’ve done quite well with that. J
 
To Work On:
 
* Directions: Don’t forget them! I know we get caught up in the attacks and presume everyone knows where everyone is – but things change quickly, and reiterating your directions is never a bad thing.
 
Here: As Ashamin ran off he whipped his coil-covered tail above Lochan and towards the stranger, hoping to strike the shadow's likely rain-soaked hide with a flash of electricity. I would have mentioned that you were still going for Erebos’ right, just to make your post all the more clearer. While things are always open for interpretation, it’s always best to give an explicit orientation of where your character is, what they’re doing, and what they’re hoping to do.
 
* Emotion: It still felt flat to me, and I’m not entirely sure why. It almost has a telling portion to it, rather than showing. You have words to play with. Don’t be afraid.
 
A couple places, such as Ashamin did not smile or snort with success; his face was set with seriousness, down-turned and steady. This was a fight for defense, nothing more. What was there to take pleasure in when every moment that this stranger delayed him Lochan was lost and calling for him?


 
Ashamin's large ears turned away, and he let his focus slip. That sound, yes... Lochan really was calling for him. He wasn't imagining that, was he?
really could have showed emotion instead of just telling us his focus slipped, or he couldn’t take pleasure from the fight while Lochan was lost. I want to know how he felt about it – show us his pain and torture from Lochan’s absence with a wounded heart, panic, or however else Ashamin could interpret this loss. A bond is supposed to be strong and binding – shouldn’t the absence of one or the other be overwhelming? Use those moments to fuel him and his ambitions. End the fight to find his companion, etc.
 
And when Lochan does return, mmph, I waited for the emotion!
 
The paint had no time to respond to his companion's arrival, but he let the sight of Lochan safe and sound propel him forward. Aww man, give me more!
 
Like this: How fitting, the haruspex thought, that such power would reveal itself in the shadows of a storm. How strengthened he was by the sight of the mists twirling and spreading with menacing thickness--how glad he was that their pair was together again. I liked this much better. <3 But again, don’t just tell me he was glad. Show me he was glad – his heart could feel full or his mind could feel at peace, etc etc. 

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#7



When he felt the impact of his tail against the stranger and smelled the familiar burnt scent--the same one that had come from his own chest and left shoulder before, the same injured shoulder that plagued him now but was at least eased by the cold wet of the rain--he knew he had succeeded. He continued forward as planned with something like satisfaction marking his features. He was doing well, defending himself against a hollow man in the dark. This was what practice had prepared him for, at last he was ready.

Having a second pair of eyes was more than just convenient, it was apparently life saving. As many nights as Ashamin had stayed up in the dark, he was not able to see clearly enough in the thick of this storm. But Lochan, with his bright burning white orbs designed for nocturnal living and his position beneath much of the chaos, could see more clearly.

The haruspex called out to his companion about the kitsune's attack--spotted from the corner of his eye, illuminated by the sparking of his own tesla coil in response to the rain like a lamp at the end of his winding tail--at the same moment that Lochan flashed an image of the confused stranger. In this maze, what was blocked by greenery for one was available for the other to see. They made a survey of unfamiliar territory in tandem. Together, they were a brilliant team.

Their reactions, too, were simultaneous. Lochan leapt forward and out of the kitsune's reach, throwing his legs behind him to perhaps kick the greedy little thing away. And Ashamin was at last able to see the stranger drawing closer as a flash of lightning revealed them all. But the fool was a few moments after the clash of the companions, too slow to beat Lochan's warning and Ashamin's response.

Ashamin slowed to a halt just short of and on the right of where he gauged the attacker might be aiming and reared, his carriage well balanced and his determination fueling perfection. The spongy ground that hosted such strange greenery was something he could sink the dual points of his hooves into, and though it did not offer as much resistance as he would have liked he did his best. His legs curled tightly and his hindquarters were bunched and angled with as much precision as could be mustered. Even in this chaos, he was capable of composure. It was success that brought him such positive concentration--the suspicion that he might win this fight.

"Enough!" the haruspex cried out in the storm, breaking the haunted silence between the two combatants at last. He threw his right foreleg downward in a vicious kick aimed for the spine, keeping his left fore pulled back as his aching shoulder demanded of him. "This is finished!"

And without thinking, without realizing how mortal a strike his could be, the Haruspex attempted to snap his mask-strengthened jaw upon the crest. Only then, once his jaws had shut (whether on flesh or air, he was not sure) with magic, did Lochan come running to find him and did his mask fall away. Only then, in the dark and wet and cold, was the painted buck revealed.

The condensation of the mask forced the water that had welled in its skeletal pits to fall upon Ashamin's features unceremoniously. He received the cold and startling awakening of the water like a slap in the face. He hadn't realized how heavy and painfully his heart had been beating, but now it overtook him. It was a dangerous thud, a repetition of fight for your life, a haunted rhythm that he could not longer ignore. Surely it had been fear and adrenaline that had cast it from him before, but now that he had declared this final strike he felt reality rushing back. The howling winds became all he could hear, the darkness all he could see. He felt his sharp senses fading and an understanding of the situation returning. He caught glimpse of Lochan's spotted form, poking out from the shadows like dazzling points of light.

His features relaxed, his heart fell into the warm and calming step of his companion's. Lochan, his little eye, would save him once again. Without the cerndyr all senses had been lost, all rationality cast away in the wind. His gaze unstuck from the unblinking white of his bonded and he looked with horror as lightning flashed and revealed the shade in a moment when Ashamin could view it with clarity and horror.

Taller than Ashamin, maybe, but younger and no wolf-headed phantasm from the dark: the enemy, he was only a boy.

A S H A M I N



image credit || Tags:


WC: 781/800
PC: 3/3 Attack
Notes: Whoo finally pushed through the migraine and got this out for you. Thank you for this spar, I learned a lot and this was so much fun! We should thread after, I can see who might be willing to heal.


See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead


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
#8
EREBOS
It’d been an absolute disaster, and the boy knew it. He could feel the shame, the embarrassment, the tenacity burrowing down in his heart and pumping through his chest, cutting away at his skull, seething and staining any remnant of hope. Another miss in the storm, barreling through darkness instead of the monstrous figure, had made quick work of his motivations and pursuits: the child knew when he’d been beaten.
 
He just didn’t know how to take it.
 
With anger? With fury?
 
And what was the other going to do when he realized it? Kill him?
 
The harsh, discordant din of movement and motion rumbled again, and while he tried to dodge to the left, away from flailing hooves, the attack still managed to land a fiendish blow, rolling down his right barrel in a bruising, agonizing contortion, joining all the other aches, pains, and miseries. Even Orsino, desperate to help his bonded, had failed in his mission, kicked away from the eerie-eyed deer and landing on his side, not terribly hurt, but irritated, exasperated all the same.
 
Enough! the other bellowed, and frankly, Erebos had to agree. It had been enough. He wanted to do nothing more than hang his head, tend to his wounds, and reflect on how much power, on how much strength, he truly had. This battle only made it all the more clear that he had a long way to go before he could ever be hailed as powerful.
 
But just when he thought it was finished, mostly because the opponent said so and his body ached so mindlessly that he was ready to adhere to anyone’s command, the harsh, unrelenting, piercing slate of ivories, of fangs, clenched down upon his neck.
 
Whether from fear, from pain, from the pure, brutal torment, the boy screamed.
 
He launched forward as best he could, breaking away from the onslaught, feeling his muscles twitch from the barbarity, feeling the blood pool down his neck and joining the rest of his shattered, savaged frame, and trying desperately not to break down in front of his enemy. He wanted to sob. He wanted to cry. He wanted to be left alone to pout, suffer, and conjure further plans – but the sound of something falling apart made him shift his head.
 
The monster’s strange skull had fallen away.
 
Beyond the hollowed pits, beyond the ivory bone, he’d been one more mortal figure – he hadn’t even been bested by an actual demon. Instead, as the lightning flickered over his painted frame, his small companion, the boy was horrified to realize he knew just who the beast was.
 
The Basin’s own Haruspex.
 
Amidst all the pain, all the misery, the boy’s jaw still dropped, stunned and horrified by what he’d done – and only one word reverberated through his mouth. “Ashamin?!”

 [3/3 + 1/1 defense.
Erebos attempts to dodge to the left to avoid getting hit directly on his spine; instead the kick hits the right side of his barrel. Orsino is pushed off his feet by Lochan. At Ashamin’s bite, Erebos feels the jaws clench down upon his crest, and tries to launch forward to get out of Ashamin’s grasp – it’s a nasty wound, and begins bleeding.
 
Final Injury Report: Left shoulder bleeding, right shoulder and barrel very bruised, scraped up, right hind singed, neck bleeding/bruised. Just assume everything is bleeding. XD
 
Congratulations on the win, Jen! This was a lot of fun and really helped to explore some depth to Erebos’ character. ;D]
Image Credit


@Ashamin

Notes:
What Went Well:
* Emotion – I thought you handled it very well this time. You could tell that Ashamin was proud, content, and satisfied by how the battle turned out.
 
I really liked this part: He hadn't realized how heavy and painfully his heart had been beating, but now it overtook him. It was a dangerous thud, a repetition of fight for your life, a haunted rhythm that he could not longer ignore. Surely it had been fear and adrenaline that had cast it from him before, but now that he had declared this final strike he felt reality rushing back. - because you’re showing rather than just telling. You’re showing he was frightened, you’re showing that in all the aftermath, he really had been terrified. NICE.
 
* Setting – Still utilizing this well. I think it helped that you picked such an epic surrounding to use~.
 
To Work On:
* Attacks: I still felt like it was a bit too much, but again, that’s down to personal preference. I’m a big fan of 1-2 attacks, and not launching three or more so that it doesn’t affect timing, or become too overwhelming for either writer (and trust me, you don’t want to waste your word count on three or more attacks; you’ve got to incorporate so many other things).
 
* Directions: I picked my own, mostly because I figured they hadn’t changed much as far as moving around, BUT please still remember to include these. It makes everyone’s life that much easier.
 
All in all, I thought you did a fabulous job, and I can tell you were improving with each post. Keep nailing those emotions in your battles, fine-tune the attacks and directions, and you will be SET, madam. Wunderbar!

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#9
20+ HP difference.

Ashamin +1 VP
Erebos +1 EXP


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