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01-24-2016, 10:55 AM
EREBOS
Triumph clouded his brain, conquest morphed and assuaged the aching hollows of pain sliding along his muscles, because he’d landed a hit, because his plan had succeeded, and something, perhaps luck, divine intervention, or sheer, hard work had prompted this decadence. It meant he’d be able to do it over and over and over again. But lord, he was slow along this sandy surface, trying to dig into its structure and failing miserably, his sore limbs conspiring against him (stop they kept telling him, and the echo of defiance just roared in his temple, grinding past each and every measure of agony and torment). She was likely to slam or try to break him now, when they were so close, when they were so near. The blue demon raced forward as much as he could bear, a short, unwinding spurt haunting his senses, for she was reaching, likely hoping to snag on a bit of pelt, a piece of hide, to undo and leave behind all the precious, tedious moments of determination he’d left mottled and embedded within his soul. But, nothing came. Had she missed? He ceased movement a short second later, confused and befuddled, in avid disbelief that his minute burst of swift speed across the dunes had actually worked. The boy twisted his head towards where he’d last seen the girl of stars and upheaval, eyes widening at the image of her burnt and crumbling into the shore, whimpering, pausing, hoping to somehow recover from all the damage he’d dealt. He didn’t know what to do – it was as if she’d managed to pierce back into the folds of all his nefarious deeds, caustically trace over the foundation of what he used to be: a gallant, Lilliputian knight, protecting his friends, guarding, smiling, laughing, and cherishing those small, infantile moments of family, of camaraderie. What had he done? Somewhere around the sand, Orsino laughed. He hissed and chuckled and chortled, snickering through every rasp, a savage beast tied by devilish strings. Isn’t this what you wanted?, he called. The sable fox’s eyes pinpointed upon the mare, upon her scorched hide, upon her weakened state, and back to Erebos’ broadened gaze, smirking. Make her yield. Finish it. But the boy balked, still aloof, still unsure, still hesitant to destroy one of his own. This was meant to be a practice round, a skirmish, a play with all their parts neatly choreographed, but something else flowed through his mind now, and he couldn’t identify the meaning of it. He was mute and silent, a hushed tempest, a perplexed, puzzled predator. He was doing exactly what she wanted – and he didn’t like to be exploited. He didn’t yearn to be a pawn. Orsino snorted, and took the matter into his own avaricious, mercenary paws. He attempted to approach her from behind, slinking and slithering like a shadow, ignoring, refusing to adhere to Erebos’ warnings through their connection (No! No! the prince rang, and they were deaf on his mutinous ears). Along his sinister march, the black kitsune attempted to reach for her left leg all over again, claws extended, fangs chasing after flesh and sinew, ligaments and tendons, preying upon weaknesses and disaster. Only then did Erebos realize perhaps he was no longer in control. Nothing about this was right and everything seemed wrong, and he was torn between following his companion along the road of chaos and distortion, cruelty and abominations, or staying put, allowing it all to unfold before him. Maybe he was already too far-gone. He willingly fought those he considered brethren. He willingly corrupted and discarded and meant to use everyone as an object, as a means to an end, to get what he craved. So he remained on the sand, away from them, and watched mayhem transpire. [2/3. 632 words. * Attempts to get away from Ki’irha’s attack by using a short burst of speed forward. Due to Ki’irha’s miss, he is not harmed. * Confused and rattled by her next tactic, Erebos stands along the sand. Orsino takes the opportunity to try and slither behind Ki’irha, poising himself to launch at her left leg, hoping to catch her skin with claws and fangs.] |
Teaching Notes:
What Went Well:
* Emotions: Still beautiful, and in just the right places. I feel like I’m getting to know Ki’irha more and more throughout this spar, because there were so many things I didn’t know about her, and you’re willing to develop her character along injuries and resolve. I especially loved:
But not a single tear fell. She wouldn't allow herself to weep like a pathetic filly with a scraped knee. She was strong and sturdy, and despite the voice that encouraged her to give in, to sink down onto the damp shore, to break into a million pieces, she couldn't. She wouldn't. She tentatively stepped down, testing her pain threshold. The muscles quivered, begging to be released from their burden, but they held. She would not be made lame. The fact that she’s so determined to be strong and unyielding in the face of all her pain is glorious. You go girl.
Also this:
Like a phoenix from the ashes, she needed to become what she always had been, and everything she had aspired to be. Before arriving at Helovia's threshold, she would never had been described as warm and gentle and soft. But the war prince who stood before her didn't know that. He didn't know anything about her. Ah, lovely, just lovely. You can feel Ki’irha. We know she’s not a soft, yielding mare. We know she’s not about to simply lay down and take all this strife without dealing out her own.
* Damage Taking:
Considering Erebos rolled a 4, I thought you did well with the potential amount of damage. It wasn’t too much and it wasn’t too little. You also made sure that while she was impaired, it wasn’t anything too gruesome – sometimes we like to damage them much more severely than they need to be.
* Pain:
I thought you showed how much pain she was in, and how it affected her strategies, movements, and emotions. Make sure as your posts progress that the pain is still there, especially the burn. It has to remain there the entire fight; which means its one more thing to battle against and hinder our characters, but it places a lot of reality into the scope of your posts. No one comes out unscathed. ;D
* Tactics:
Ha, I thought this was clever. I’m personally not a big fan of pretending to be a sitting duck, but I thought Ki’irha’s tactics were demonstrative of what she was feeling, how she wanted to portray herself, and her methods/plans of attack. It certainly made me think about how to respond, how Erebos would respond, and kept us all a little off kilter. ;D
To Work On [uhm not much]:
* Setting:
Make sure you continue to incorporate this into your posts – I saw you mention the sand here and there, but how does it make her feel? How does it impact her movements? How does it change her tactics?
* Grammar:
[I always run my posts through a Word doc. I know it doesn’t catch everything, so then I read it over and over again, proofread. Come back to it later. Look at it again, rinse, repeat, until I think I’ve got it.]
Her voice was strained, every fiber pulled taught by pain she couldn't take. - Should be taut, not taught.
Before arriving at Helovia's threshold, she would never had been described as warm and gentle and soft. - Should be have, not had.
I think you’re doing a splendid job and frankly you don’t need me, but keep the awesomeness coming! Can’t wait to see what she does! ^__^
