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01-06-2016, 05:32 PM
EREBOS It was funny how so few knew him. Perhaps he wandered from the Basin far too often and hadn’t become a sight amongst the multitude. Maybe he was just one more member straying amongst the scenes. But he’d be renowned one day. They’d all remember his name. “Erebos,” he struck between the sand and the stone, a cheeky little grin forming around his lips. The prince granted her nothing more – not his heritage, not his worth – and instead, watched between narrowed eyes as she began her arts, introduced him to her macabre dance. He became another moving figure; and though he wasn’t as nimble or graceful as he would be on the other grounds (the wide, open sea, the flickering, yawning palisade of Poseidon), he still managed to conjure a worthy pace in the deep dunes, a slow, methodical trot, trying to formulate a way to not grind his muscles into lethargic notions too soon. Then she struck, smaller and likely swifter than him, rummaging through the dampened loam, the flickering barbs of sunset, to face him, then arrive at his left side. And despite his darting to the right, her dentals scorched a lengthy trail down the left portion of his neck: biting, clawing, ripping through pelt and fibers, inciting a pool of blood, a long laceration from timely trappings, along his nape. He’d underestimated her. She was not made of stars and constellations and living moonlight. She was carved by something much more unrelenting, much more savage. Erebos’ breath came out in a rush, and he tried not to scream from the blunt, keen trauma. Not again, he whimpered through his skull, remembering the predacious, harsh melancholy of Ashamin’s spar in the burst of midnight, the utter failure at missing Rexanna’s hide in their final volley. Was he constantly doomed to failure? Is this how he was going to start? When would it end? When would he be able to make his mark? When would he able to show the world what he was truly capable of? Or was this it? Was he damned to be a fiasco, a catastrophe, a disaster? Even her buck landed along his hide, lightly grazing against his left shoulder, forming another bruise to join the masses littered under his pelt. He could feel and sense Orsino’s frustration – it blended so well with his own – and the boy clenched his jaw, ground his teeth, and tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Amidst the echoes and billows of pain, his mind schemed and he tried to conjure, invoke, think of something, anything, that could give him the upper hand. He was already sore, already bludgeoned, already vexed and irritated. Fury rushed to his head, ferocity lunged through his veins, licked and tasted and relished the overwhelming tenacity stuck inside his soul. And for once, he didn’t require the devil on his shoulder; he was already enamored with the reaches of hell. Orsino remained silent as Erebos dictated their course. The lad drove into the shore, chasing after the star-lit mare. While slower, while sluggish, he didn’t give in to the temptation of quitting, of giving up, of simply surrendering. He attempted to reach for her left, while the vicious, unwinding presence of Orsino drifted to her right. As the sable kitsune snapped at her right hind legs, grasping for anything and everything, the prince tried to angle his teeth along her left hind, reaching, reaching, reaching, and hoping if he managed to snag her, that a bright, blinding ball of flame would also come with it. Maybe his touch would embroil them all. Perhaps they’d all be roasted and smoldered, clad in ashes, embers, and coals, when the crusade had finally ended. The Corporal would remember him after this day. He was sure of it. [1/3. 635 words. * Ki’irha’s attack on the left side of his neck. Her teeth drag down his nape, ripping off pelt and leaving a decent-sized, bleeding laceration. * Her buck/kick also lands lightly on his left shoulder, forming a bruise. * He attempts to chase her down – Erebos angling towards her left, and Orsino trying to snag at her right. Orsino tries to bite at her right hind legs, and Erebos attempts to bite at her left hind; intending to use his fire magic if his touch manages to leave a mark.] |
Teaching Notes:
Yay! Welcome to another spar~~~
[Also why do you need my help because this post was lovely]
What Went Well:
* Well, let’s be real. Your writing is beautiful. I loved these touches of emotions and backstory from Ki’irha, and they were all written very elegantly.
This passage in particular: Emotions were something that had been beat from her at an early age. They interrupted what was important, and kept her from ascending into the throne she had been urged to covet by a battle-crazed father. But somehow, being a queen of war, a haunt made of stars and night and death, seemed like a clouded memory, a far off feat that would never be obtained. Is that even what she wanted anymore? She was a corporal, but she didn't know those who ranked among her soldiers. She had no respect, though certainly no respect was due for a strange mare who had sauntered in and done nothing remarkable. She was nothing remarkable. She was an emotional being, and no matter the way she attempted to quell the flames, the embers always built up again. really told us a lot about Ki’irha in a short amount of words. I’m eager to see how this battle either unravels or strengthens her. Use those emotions/affects to each post!
* Setting: You’ve already laid out the potential disadvantages of fighting on the sand/beach, so make sure you include them in each post.
* Attacks: I thought your attacks worked well. There weren’t an overwhelming amount, and they seemed to be fitting for the spar/skirmish element. Of course, time will tell what this actually develops into, but you have made it easier on timing/pacing with only two attacks. ;D
To Work On:
* Directions: Make sure these are always clear. I had to go down to your summary to figure out where you were trying to hit Erebos from. This portion: She paused, facing him yet again. Her velvet-lined nostrils flared, dragging in a deep gulp of the salty air. Her haunches coiled and she sprang, each step acclimating her to the unusual turf as she heaved herself forward. Her neck arched then stretched, jaws opening then snapping shut, aiming to capture a bite of his dark tresses, or catch a harsh taste of his sleek neck. She braced her shoulder for impact as well, unsure of how she would meet him in their first passionate encounter. She had no doubts he would take her attack well - his sheer size and rigid muscles were armor for him, protecting him from her delicate physique. But even the smallest fly could be bothersome, and her intent was to pick away at him until weakness shone through. didn’t indicate anything except she was front on, and then coming at him left-to-left. Please always include these. ☺ It makes the mechanics of the fight much less confusing.
*Proof-reading: Though the post was very well written, I still noticed a couple little areas that were missing something:
she mused, looking up to blue eyes nestled an a sculpted and crowned head. in a sculpted and crowned head.
Either way, she would learn him today. - I think I knew what you were trying to grasp for with this sentence, but it still read awkwardly to me. She would learn of him today or she would learn from him today would make a little more sense to me.
I'm looking forward to seeing Ki'irha's reactions/emotions/attacks from this! <333
