the Rift


thunderbolt

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


It storms.

Rain thunders down on the silver's back, beating out a steady stacatto rhythm. Lightning sunders the sky and the entire heavens seem to groan under the weight of the water they are viciously throwing to the ground. Rivulets of water run down the mare's face, trickling across the contours of her powerful neck, gilding her fur with moisture and lending her the appearance of something ethereal, mystical.

The truth, of course, is that she is simple flesh and bone, stone and steel. And she has duties.

She is the herd's General now, the queen of the warriors. The position pleases her; without aspirations to lead (or, at least, without aspirations to lead that she will ever admit to), this is the highest rank she can possibly obtain. When battle comes, it will be her job to marshal the soldiers, command the army, throw her body on the line for her herd and protect it or die trying. It is also her duty to make sure that the herd's warriors are up to scratch; the Edge will crumble to dust if it is built upon the backs of weak soldiers. She knows little of the other fighters, except for one, who she patrolled with when she was still pregnant. An antlered beast, a handsome rogue; Rohan strikes her as the ideal warrior, brave of heart and strong of body, but there's no way of truly telling for definite until she fights him herself.

When last they met, she was far too pregnant to spar. Now, she has shed her children, half-shed her Lace-related sorrows, and is ready to tangle on the battlefield again. The conditions are ideal for her, the storm queen; her favourite weather rages above her, slicking her mane to her neck. It is night, so the air is cool enough to allow for skillful fighting, and she chooses a large clearing on the outskirts of the Edge where she and Rohan have all the room they could ever want to dance in.

Her sodden lion is less pleased with the elements, and skulks behind her with a foul expression twisted across his snout. "Stupid. Why fight in rain, when can fight in sun? Stupid." She just shakes her head and chuckles to herself, finding somewhere suitable to stand and lifting her jaws to cry out for her opponent. "Roooo-hannnn," comes her sing-song voice, beckoning the antlered hottie towards her, to test him. "It's time to dance, handsome." Let's see what you're made of.

________
Teaching spar for @Rohan ! Set in the Edge in a small clearing at night, with a heavy storm. Good luck! <3

0/3 - 418 words


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


Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#2
Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all
but lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall.
Lend me your eyes
I can change what you see—
but your soul you must keep,
totally free.
rohan
The antlered stallion has hardly removed himself from the borders since she left.

Even in the rain he stands, with pale hooves seemingly bound to the earth, and green eyes brooding beneath the shadow of his brow. Their gaze is unusually dark and troubled, his typical mischief glazed over by the rioting of emotions that thrash and rebel inside of him. Ensnared in their greedy fingers, their dirty claws that writhe beneath his skin, he can scarcely stand still. If the grasses weren’t so thick and the mists so dense, then there would surely be a path worn into the ground—a testament to his pacing, his restlessness, his frustration.

WHY?! Why me?

Many times Rohan has screamed his questions at her distant ears, at the sky, at the world—at anyone but himself (because the weight of guilt is far too heavy for him to bear, and he shoves it aside with rage, preferring to cling to his anger instead). It is this burning passion that he is familiar with. Like a security net, he clings to it for safety, for escape—his whole life, the Warlander has wrestled with anger, dodging blame and wild, iron fists. He has not allowed himself to become trapped by his father’s filthy shame, and he’ll be damned if he allows this little mare to do just that! How can he be worrying about it this much, anyway?

Shoving a fore hoof deeper into the wet ground, the stallion grinds his teeth together and whips his tail, briefly disrupting the torrents of rain with long, unruly hairs. The silver mare’s clarion call couldn’t have come at a better time. He recognizes her strong, sultry voice the moment it pierces through the water, calling to him like a siren does a sailor. Clutching eagerly at her hook, Rohan pushes himself from where he had rooted, and makes his way quickly through the thick floods of heavenly water.

Unsurprisingly, Nyx proves easy to find. Beneath the swollen, impetuous clouds she stands, every bit a mighty warrior as she faces the battering storm with unflinching and poised confidence. “Nyx—you are as ravishing as I remember,” he offers her a coy smile, green eyes appreciating her toned figure, the supple curves of her body outlined by the bright flashing of bolts and clouds. Perhaps he takes her in with more fervency now, drinking in her distraction excitedly, feverishly. He couldn’t possibly deny her invitation.

Shifting his weight and snorting a spray of water with his breath, the Warlander tilts his head mischievously towards her, “Follow my lead, sweetheart.” Drops of rain trickle over his lips and fall from his chin, alighting his eyes as they hadn’t been before. In one motion—powered not by grace, but by his mighty strength—he leaps forward, pale hooves thrusting heavily into the ground, tossing up muck with every stride. Arching his thick neck, Rohan aims to spear the silver with the sharp points of his antlers. It is a brutish and blunt attack, but he doesn’t care now to think of tactics. He focuses only on the beat of his heart, the pounding of his hooves—hoping to abandon his haunting plights behind him.


“Speech.”
Attack: 1/3
WC: 535
OOC: Hope it was okay that I took the first attack!<3 I'm excited!
awake my soul
@Nyx | image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.

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


Through the tempest, he comes.

Her eyes flash, glowing by the light of the storm as she sees him approaching. If anything, he's got hotter - maybe because she isn't pregnant with another man's child this time, so she doesn't feel quite as dirty when she looks him up, and down, and up again. Hnng. A wicked smile spreads slowly across her jaws, and a fork of lightning illuminates the gleam in her eyes as she fixes him with her penetrating stare.

Oh, yes. She's going to enjoy this. She can't think of many better ways to road-test her body and make sure it's still up to scratch after the trauma of delivering twins, not to mention the small matter of almost dying in the process. To slap flesh and sweat against the brazen brawn of a man, to forget for a few blissful moments that she is a responsible mother now...All this against a backdrop of her favourite weather, a raging storm. She's practically drooling.

But, before everything else, she is a warrior. She is the warrior, the General, and the example she sets here must be a shining one. As much as she intends to enjoy this, she also wants to win, or at the very least leave Rohan bleeding and heaving from the force of her blows. She quickly flutters her gaze across his body, noting that he has almost a hand's height on her, that he's a wall of power that could snap her like a twig if he tried hard enough. But she is no stranger to fighting men larger than her, due to her penchant for bedding them and, as a result, having to battle them first. Even in Helovia, she's tangled with three stallions larger than herself, in the forms of Tembovu, Archibald and Deodat. Admittedly she's lost all three, but she isn't one to dwell. Clearly, defeating the big bastards is a weakness of hers, and the only way she's going to conquer this flaw in her technique is by practicing over and over again.

He speaks, and she grins through the pouring rain. "Flatterer," she purrs, mock-accusing. For all his rugged beauty, this is business now, not pleasure. When necessary, even the flirty, taunting silver mare can put personal feelings aside and concentrate on what needs to be done. In these adverse conditions - with ground that will quickly become churned, with rain slickening flesh and lightning threatening to dazzle both opponents - it will not be easy, but the ironheart always delights in testing herself.

He begins to charge, and Nyx immediately shifts to try and bring herself face to face with him. She doesn't want to let him flank her, where his superior weight could push her over to her side or knock her over completely. Her hooves slalom on the mud and she braces her legs far apart to try and keep her balance, not wanting to end up on the ground and submissive. As he lowers his antlers ominously, the storm queen knows she cannot let him skewer her with them; they are deadly, even moreso when combined with his evident neck strength. So she sidesteps to her right, but there's not enough time, she's not quite fast enough...His left antler clips the left side of her chest, creating a small bruise and a couple of surface-level cuts that ooze blood down her rain-soaked bosom. It hurts, but it's a far cry from the agony she would have suffered had he hit full force.

She swings her hips further to the right, trying to bring herself around to face his left shoulder in a T-shape. She arches her neck and jousts her horn forwards, attempting to dig the razor tip into the flesh and muscle of his left shoulder - not deep enough to disable the limb or irreversably maim him should she succeed, but hopefully deep enough for him to know he's in a fight. She hopes that he won't be able to arrest the momentum of his charge, especially as the ground directly in front of him is churned and sodden from where her hooves were and thus hardly ideal for applying the brakes; she hopes that he'll continue forwards and that, as a result, her horn will rasp down the full length of his left side.

Dominus, who had shifted out of the way when he saw Rohan's charge, skulks nearby with his usual sulky and brooding demeanour. For now, he doesn't interfere; he has no intention of getting his paws dirty unless he absolutely has to. He simply lurks, a white shadow, sharp blue eyes assessing both his bonded and her antlered opponent.

________
Teaching spar for @Rohan ! Teaching notes below the table <3

1/3 - 778 words



THINGS I LIKED

- Emotion. Wow, you wrote Rohan amazingly in this post! I could really feel his anger, and it's made me want to read through his previous posts to find out what's pissed off Mr Hairy Handsome! You're obviously a talented writer, which is half of the battle (no pun intended) already won. Scoring highly in the 'Emotion' section can be extremely difficult, so the fact you're already drawing me in with Rohan's feelings definitely bodes well for the judging! ^^

- Grammar and spelling - I couldn't see any errors, so really well done! Readability is one of the sections of the judging rubric where it's really easy to rack up points, simply by making sure you proof-read, watch your tenses etc. It's good that you're already doing this! :D So far, on the writing side of things, you're doing a fine job - it's just the finer details of attacking/defending now.

THINGS TO IMPROVE

- 'Arching his thick neck, Rohan aims to spear the silver with the sharp points of his antlers'. This attack is really vague - where abouts on Nyx is he aiming to spear? When it comes to attacks, try to be as specific as you possibly can! Is he going for her right side, left side, front, flanks, shoulders, legs, head? Is he approaching from her side, or did he charge towards her face to face? What made him decide to do this? Is he going full-force, or pulling his punches because it's a friendly spar? Remember, there's an 800 word limit on fight posts, so you had over 250 words left to use in this post. You could have used them to be much more specific on where your attack was aimed for - don't be afraid to get as close to that 800 word limit as you can! ^^ (just be careful not to go over because oops 10 HP penalty)

- You could also have used your remaining words to have Rohan assess Nyx, and observe the differences between them. He's obviously larger than her, so he could try and use that to his advantage by throwing his weight around. Have a look at their base stats, as well - Rohan is much more agile than Nyx (8 to her 5) so he could muse on how to utilise this by darting around her, flanking her etc.

- Also, the surroundings! I tried to pick interesting and tricky conditions in the form of a storm, rather than going with the usual sunny-day-hard ground. As the fight progresses, the ground is probably going to get muddy and churned up, which gives us both ample opportunities to write about how this affects our characters. For example, they might slip, which could aid or ruin an attack, and they might try to compensate for the dodgy ground by not doing certain attacks. So, in your future posts, try to mention the surroundings/weather and incorporate them :D

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


Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#4
Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all
but lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall.
Lend me your eyes
I can change what you see—
but your soul you must keep,
totally free.
rohan
He runs—for now, that is all he knows.

The wild growl of his breaths, the thundering squelch of his hooves through the mud, the rumbling clap of the raging storm, and the elevated pulse of his heart against his chest are the things that compel him forward, that pull muscle against bone and diminish the space between himself and the silver mare. Too blinded by the drive—the need—to escape and lose himself in this match of brute and brawn, the Warlander doesn’t care to strategize or break down their movements. He only needs now, this dance, and the beautiful, passionate fury of his partner.

It is only the subtle jarring from his head to his spine that tells him he’s made his mark. It is a gentle fluttering—a whisper—compared to the sudden, rough jolting of the attacks in his memories. Months ago when sharp, pale tines had impaled the flesh of that beast, that god, and rattled him to his core with his bloody victory. The stallion feels no such euphoria now. Instead the cold bite of the mare’s absence washes against his skin, like winter’s hoarfrost embracing him with her frigid grasp when he had wanted the warm solidity of flesh. To have her close and bowed about him, in the blustering cradle of a warrior’s embrace.

Suddenly throwing his head into the air, the Warlander’s eyes roll in their search for his silvery partner, a war cry splitting from his lips and cracking like thunder—a bold and brazen sound that melts too quickly into a shriek of terrible pain. It lances out from the point of his left shoulder, searing like wildfire through his veins. For a moment, his left foreleg threatens to give out from under him, the muscle quivering with the agony that overwhelms him for a breath—burning and throbbing, drowning out the violent storm so all he can hear is the sharp, rasping gasp of agony—before his warrior’s heart rises in a mighty requital.

With his body drinking in the sweet, fragile relief of adrenaline, Rohan forces himself into a graceless turn, pivoting so that he faces the silver mare directly. Haphazardly, he throws his neck to the side as he does so, teeth lashing out to grasp at whatever part of Nyx he might be able to reach.

It is only then, when skin recoils in protest, that he realizes that her horn had not only pierced his shoulder, but also carved a long, bleeding line down his abdomen—far shallower than the initial penetration, but painful nonetheless. The stallion snarls against the agony, refusing to hesitate. He digs his hooves into the sodden ground, hoping he has enough purchase before thrusting himself forward in an attempt to ram the smaller mare with the right side of his breast. Water and blood stream down his large body, marking his steps, their writhing motions, and this—their dance.


“Speech.”
Attack: 2/3
WC: 481
OOC: Not my best, I'm sorry; just didn't want it to default!
awake my soul
@Nyx | image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.

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


She hits, and she hits hard.

Ordinarily, an apology would bubble up onto her lips. Sorry, she'd splutter. Didn't mean to hit so hard. And, indeed, the words try their level best to force their way out, to burst into her gullet and out of the gaping chasm of her mouth, but she bites them back. She doesn't know why - call it female intuition, perhaps - but she thinks he wants to be hit hard, that he wants a proper distraction. Perhaps it's the way he threw himself into battle, so brazen, so brutish, with such little regard for his own safety, a runaway freight train. She thinks that he wants a true fight, not a happy little exchange of pulled punches that will leave neither party satisfied, an anticlimax after the world's best foreplay. If he's anything like her, he doesn't appreciate pointless little skirmishes that shed no blood and fashion no bruises, that are as ineffectual as two newborn foals rolling around in a meadow. No, she thinks he needs a proper clash, and he'll damn well get one. They won't kill each other, but why should she apologise for landing a blow that she'd be proud of in any normal fight?

Besides, he can take it. She believes he's made of stern stuff, and this will give her ample opportunity to see how he reacts to such severe pain so early on in the fight. Her soldiers will not be piss-weak oafs who talk the talk but shy away when it comes to the blood and gore of battle. No, war isn't all heroes and swords and gleaming armour - it's muddy, bloody, dirty, painful, beautiful, and not for the faint of heart. Her soldiers will be made of fucking steel, imbued with the heart of the storm itself, and this is what she wants to see from Rohan. Fight back, handsome, she silently bids him; make me pay for that.

And he tries to. He swings around to face her, his teeth flailing towards her face. Perhaps it's luck, or perhaps it's some blessed twist of fate, that causes her to slip as she tries to move to her right; her feet skid on the saturated ground and she lurches to her right with an alarmed whinny, flailing her legs to try and gain purchase again. His teeth whistle past her without making contact, and his chest-charge also hits only fresh air, as well. That's all well and good, but she looks like a right idiot as she desperately snatches at her balance and fights to keep herself from toppling over. The thunder drowns out her anguised roar, and the lightning illuminates the whites of her eyes as she wrestles against the ground which seems to be trying to pull her down to it like an amorous lover.

To her great relief, she manages to stay standing. She is unharmed, save for her wounded pride, and she desperately hopes her antlered opponent didn't see her ungainly lurch. It worked out quite well for her, as she avoided harm from his most recent barrage of attacks, but the humiliation of slipping does not sit well with her. Yet, she reasons, this is why she fights in different conditions - so she's prepared for quirks of fate like that slip.

She blinks hard to rid her eyes of rain, and swings her front end to the left in an attempt to face his left shoulder again. Attacking existing wounds is a favourite technique of hers, as unpleasant as it can be for the recipient of her attentions. Again, she wants to see how Rohan reacts to her; will he be angered by her attempt at causing pain, will he turn into the storm itself and enact revenge on her, or will he crumble? She wants a reaction, a rise, to see how hard she can make him hit.

So she lunges forwards, and aims a bite for the gored area of his left shoulder. Her teeth are too blunt to do too much damage, which is why she uses them and not her horn again; she doesn't want to ruin the leg, as he'd be a fat lot of use as a warrior with only three limbs. No, she simply hopes to cause pain and test his resolve, not cause irreversible damage. So she attempts to nip at the wound, to add to the pain of it, and to see what her audacious attack will make him do. This is all a way for her to try and discover his limits, to try and bend and break them.

________
Teaching spar for @Rohan !

2/3 - 778 words



THINGS I LIKED

- Emotion, again. It doesn't need saying again, but I'm saying it anyway - you write him beautifully. Not only that, but your writing itself is gorgeous, as well. It's poetic, but easily understood, and I'm getting pulled in as I'm reading it which is great! You obviously understand Rohan really well and this part of your post is fantastic so I can't really offer any feedback on it lmao except to say well done and keep up the great work! :D

- No grammar or spelling errors that I could see. As I say above, your writing itself needs absolutely no improvement, and you'll definitely score highly in the Readability, Prose and Emotion sections. It's just realism and the actual ins and outs and mechanics of fighting that needs work, but that's a lot easier to grasp than the basics of writing itself, which you're already brill at! :D

- I think you took a good amount of damage for the dice roll given. A 5 is a pretty high roll, and you responded to it well by having him take quite a lot of damage from her horn. I personally wouldn't have had him take damage to his abdomen as well, though, as the injury to his leg is already serious enough to fufill the '5' dice roll.

THINGS TO IMPROVE

- 'Rohan forces himself into a graceless turn, pivoting so that he faces the silver mare directly'. Although it's only minor, try to fit attempts/aims etc into sentences that involve movement! Although it's not as critical as not saying 'aim' when you make an attack, it could still be considered minor PP to assume that your opponent will just let you turn to face them. It's always best to be safe than sorry, so try to make sure anything your character does in a fight has mention of 'attempt', even something as minor as moving around.

- 'he throws his neck to the side as he does so, teeth lashing out to grasp at whatever part of Nyx he might be able to reach'. Again, no mention of attempt/aim etc, so this sentence could be seen as GM/PP. Those words are eyesores, but they're better than losing points for GM! Also, you could have used more detail by saying which way he threw his neck, to paint a clearer picture about his exact movements.

- Again, you had over 300 words left to use. I would have liked to see more detail in his bite attack - you say 'any part he could reach', but since he's facing her, you could have just specified that he's aiming for her face, or neck, or chest etc. In your second attack, you specify that he's using the right side of his chest which is great, but I'd have also liked to see him mention where abouts on her he's aiming for - her chest, side? Is he trying to barge her over backwards, or just slam against her? Remember, you can use up to 800 words, so try and be as detailed as you can! In my eyes, you can never be TOO detailed, and it's better to be safe than sorry. If your opponent can picture in their mind's eye what your character is doing, then the judge will be able to as well.

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


Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#6
Rohan defaults to Nyx. Nyx earns 0.5 VP + 2 EXP for 2 teaching posts.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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