the Rift


[JUDGED] the gloves are off [Rohan v. Mauja]

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
#1
rohan
The Warlander hadn’t realized that he’d been on his way towards his herd land until the familiar swell of trees had risen on the horizon, their dark edges smudged out and blurred by the hazy fingers of fog. He halts for a long moment, pale hooves dragging idly through the grasses (their blades softened with the ocean’s fair breeze), before he rests his weight squarely. Earthy eyes stare out across the flat fields that lie between him and the Edge, brown lips pursing as he allows his thoughts to travel along their rolling length.

It seems as though an eternity has come and gone since he had last seen the misty forests of his home—and even longer still since he had been officially accepted into their ranks. Another battle had been fought and won, the enemy defeated once more, but their victories had not come without the blood of Helovians accompanying—staining and bruising—their triumphs.

“This is the end.”

The Earth God had told them just that, had vowed to those who had thrown themselves so mightily, so recklessly into the fray—

“Return to your herds, tend to your wounded. The fight is over, be at peace.”

—the fight is over, be at peace


—as though it would be so easy, so effortless to return to whatever lives they had been living before. Rohan has been changed, he believes (for better or for worse he doesn’t yet know, he doesn’t yet comprehend what exactly could have shifted within him). Still, it is with a different gaze that he looks upon the familiarity of the Edge, less hesitancy in his gait as he drives himself forward once more, suppressing and burying the pieces of him that linger behind, that pull him to places his wandering heart does not yet wish to explore.

It is only as his large frame skirts along the very fringes of the territory that the antlered stallion notices another figure, another being. He slows from his hurried pace, thick tail lashing about the toughened, nearly-healed wounds along his back as he inspects the stranger, only recognizing the other stallion when the distance between them diminishes. “Mauja?” Rohan’s broad voice leaves him in a low and steady breath, his rimmed ears tilting forward as he inspects his King with a curious but unquestioning gaze.


“Speech.”
Attack: 0/3
WC: 388
Setting: On the outskirts of World’s Edge, where it’s fairly open land, spotted with trees, and the forest isn’t far away; it is early dusk, with the sun just beginning to graze the horizon. The worst of the heat has come and gone, with the distant sea breeze contributing to a fairly comfortable temperature. There’s fog beginning to settle low on the ground with the coming of night.
OOC: Meant to be a teaching spar for both Rohan and I! @Mauja feel free to take the first attack if you’d like c:

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#2
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
His treacherous feet had carried him back to where it all had begun, whispered in his ears to cloud his eyes as he went, before finally just punching him in the face and saying 'yo, get off, it's the end station for you'.

That was how he found himself standing somewhere between the Edge and the Meadow, tall summer grasses wavering restlessly in the evening breeze and doing their best to tickle his distant belly. Only a few reached that high, and he paid them little heed anyway. He had more depressing things to care about than grass.

The sun had begun to slip low somewhere behind the evergreen trees, darkness rolling in like the tide from the east, and with it came the creeping fog like ghosts

Here, it had begun, the cradle of his future, the foundation of his dreams, the misty halls in which he and Psyche had roamed, sealing their pact with blood. Born from their aspirations was Snö, but.. that was it, wasn't it? Psyche had left him, taking Snö with her, until Snö had come back, and then Tamlin had been born, and Snö had left with Monster, and Psyche had come back, and, and... Mauja groaned, pressing his dry eyes shut. They ached from crying. They ached from seeing. They ached from the light. Snö's life had been full of disasters he should've prevented, and now .. now it was too late.

“Mauja?” "What," he answered, dispassionately, barely even registering what happened before it had happened; his ears flicked back, halfway into the mess of his white mane, and his eyes snapped open as his head turned. The movement tugged on the healing scabs on his chest, one crust breaking and a thin trickle of red pooling in the cut. It was Rohan, furry belly and all, looking decent enough from having come back from the battle—not like Mauja, a disaster on four legs, his pale eyes seeming permanently rimmed by a sickly kind of red-white. His tears might have dried up for now, but it sure as hell had done nothing for his heart.

Did he know what had happened? Had he seen—heard—the aftermath of the tiger's death? Mauja didn't know. Didn't really remember. Ulrik and Ophelia had been there, and Tembovu, of course, and Naerys and Roskuld. But who else had been there, watching, just not speaking? "What do you want?" he asked a moment later, fighting to keep the bitter anger out of his voice—what could you possibly want from me?—and succeeding only slightly in mellowing his tone. It was, after all, difficult to sound jovial and gentle when it felt like your soul had been scrubbed raw with salt and sulfur, and like all joviality and gentleness had been stolen from the world.

I'm sorry, he had the time to think, a brief moment of pity towards this unfortunate man who had happened to chance upon him only to be met with the bared fangs of grief.

[ 0/3 || @Rohan || 502 words. ]
[ Rohan better bring up sparring or something, Mauja isn't really .. violent, in that sense? xD ]
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

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
#3
rohan
The Warlander’s dark-rimmed ears flick back at the spotted stallion’s less-than-friendly greeting, not expecting for his King to have received him so brusquely (then again, why shouldn’t he have? Rohan doesn’t know Mauja very well, having only seen him a handful of times; for all he knows, this speckled queen is little more than a glorified ass). All the same, Rohan is not one to become offended so simply, and he shakes it off with ease, his large antlers cutting through the wispy mists as he tilts his head to the side.

Silence lingers between the two stallions for a moment longer, the Warlander choosing not to answer Mauja’s question right away, unsure how to properly respond to such an anguished request. The longer he studies the older male, the more it becomes obvious that he is not…well, he looks downright terrible. Utterly awful. Gone is the mighty, gentle king that had first met him all those months ago—replaced now by what Rohan can only describe as a broken shell of a man. He takes note of Mauja’s blood-shot eyes, his unkempt hide and fresh wounds, his detached tone, and finds that he cannot relate to his plight, much less understand it.

Rohan has not lost as Mauja has lost. Granted, he does know pain, knows the agony of someone being ripped away by the cold, cruel claws of fate—his brother, quite literally torn far too soon from this life, followed shortly after by his dear grandfather, the only mentor who ever actually gave a shit about him. Even so, the Warlander had only floundered in his misery, throwing everything else away. He had ran. Abandoned everything and everyone—and he has yet to look back.

He does not know what it means to lose a child, or to lose a friend (only ever having left, rather than be left). Having spent the time after the Earth God’s battle with the little brown mare, he had not seen Mauja on the ruins of the battlefield, suffering as the last bit of him seemed to be stolen and shattered. The Warlander had not witnessed it, but it isn’t hard for him to guess that something dreadful had happened. “You don’t look so good, your highness,” the title is used dryly, nearly a smirk as it slides from his tongue, “you look like shit.”

It is meant to be a tease, but the words fall with more seriousness than he had intended. On a good day, Rohan can listen—he can be quite a good listener, in fact—but those days are far too intermittent, and it isn’t an attribute that he’d likely put on his list. He focuses instead on what he is comfortable with, willing to help the spotted stallion in a way he sees more fitting. “Perhaps some distraction will help you then, if you’re willing,” it is more of a challenge, an attempt to rouse Mauja from his dreary grief. Rohan steps back, arching his thick neck and brandishing his large antlers readily.


“Speech.”
Attack: 0/3
WC: 507

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
@Mauja image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#4
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
I'm sorry, he thought again, eyes closing so he wouldn't have to see those dark-rimmed ears flicking back in response. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

No one deserved to meet him when he was like this.

No one deserved the poison of his fangs, the same venomous bite with which he bit himself—over the years, he had well and truly destroyed himself. He did not need to destroy everyone else that he came across as well.

Heck, he didn't even want to do it, but look at his life—and look at all those dead bodies by the roadside, at all those scars he had caused, like black, hairless lines scoring their skin (—their souls). How much pain hadn't he caused, just by existing? There was always something—the way he drifted in and out of existence, the way he did not smile enough, or laugh enough, or love enough, or hate enough, and even if he tried to conform to every whim someone would always find him wanting.

And he just kept on doing it. Snö had died loving him still, something he didn't deserve, and Rohan had to put up with his bullshit attitude.

“You don’t look so good, your highness,” he was finally saying after what felt like eons of silence—eons in which Mauja, with his closed eyes, had expected the amiable stallion to take off for better, kinder company, but the tell-tale whisper of grass parting had never come. And bah—your highness. Mauja had cast off his goddamned crown and he was not high, not to be respected, just foul and vile, filth at the bottom of the world's darkest pit—a black stain on blood-soaked earth. Uncomfortably, he shifted on the spot. How do you tell someone you are not their Queen anymore? That you do not deserve whatever respect they had once harbored towards you? That you were just a big, fucking mess, and—

Woah, back up. His eyes had snapped open, and his bitterness was coming back around to bite him in the ass, because Rohan stood with his massive antlers lowered, waving them sort of dangerously—beckoning—in his face. What the—?

Violence wasn't Mauja's go-to distraction. In fact, he fucking hated it, he hated sparring, trying to hold back the monster, and just letting it out anyway, and apologizing as they stood bent and bleeding on their knees and fuck, his fighting mantra had become "I'm sorry".

He almost wished Rohan's offer had been a sexual innuendo instead of a fight challenge. Almost. Well, maybe; anyway, he'd rather have a stallion chasing his ass than a mare.

".. whatever," he finally said—or tried to say—because the rust had stolen his voice when bitter anger gave it no bite, so it came out a raspy whisper.

And how do you go on from there? How do you take this challenge tossed in your lap, this tall, sturdy stallion standing in your face with his antlers at the ready? What was he supposed to do? Magically bring out the Appaloosa in him and run so fast he blurred and could get behind Rohan's shield-like horns? He couldn't very well charge him head on, because he was pretty sure he'd get a face full of sharp tines before he had the chance to do anything himself.

.. then again, maybe death-by-stupid-charge would be better than this shit he found himself in, so let it be well and truly whatever. There was little warning—no sound of a charge, of testosterone and yelled I-am-cooler-than-you, barely even a focusing of his irises—just muscles coiling under a white hide as he flew at Rohan, head low and to the left, hoping to smash the point of his right shoulder into the other stud's breast. Because fuck life, and the scabs all tore open, tender stings lashing his mind as an errant trickle of red found its way down across the white.

[ 1/3 || @Rohan || 659 words. ]
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
TEACHING NOTES
Okay, here we go! You'll get a more extensive commentary and advice next round, when you've written a legit fight post. ^^ But I'll mention some things for starters, for you to think about!

PROSE: Prose is the most stupid thing to lose points over, so always proof-read your posts a few times! Watch out for grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, because honestly, it's the most useless thing to lose points over. :( Other things that can happen in fight posts are tense switches, proof-reading also helps you catch any of those. The last thing to look for when you proof-read is awkward wording, parts of the post that are too technical (and thus become dry), generally messed up sentences, or confusing things. Like an example I struggled with the sexual innuendo paragraph because how do I, without making it super clunky, put down "stallion chasing me > fighting > mare chasing me"? It couldn't get it right so I just left it as Mauja's incomplete, sort of flawed logical progression. :P

I've found myself that it is easy to get too technical- if you've stated left and right once, you don't have to repeat it for every part of that sequence. If you're standing left side to left side, no one will assume you magically teleport to the other side in the same post. Just make sure it is stated clear in at least one place (per post), so we know what's up! (and hit me with fish if the judges disagree super much.)

It's also easy to get too technical about terrain and breed. For example, I didn't mention terrain at all in this post, because the attack was just a super short thing at the end of it and I tend to leave it out because I'm a bad example. But try to get it, and breed differences, as a natural part of the flow. Is it easier for Rohan to, for example, counter-charge because the grass offers good traction? Does it tickle his legs and disturb him? How does the sun affect him? Does he think anything about Mauja's build? Try to weave it in as natural components of the post.

DICE ROLL/DAMAGE: Pay attention to the dice roll! For example, if Mauja would try to stab you:
1-2: minor injury. probably none to minimal blood drawn.
3-4: intermediate injury. blood would be drawn but it would not be a major/critical wound.
5-6: major injury. it would be deep and/or bleed a lot.

Try to keep in mind the damage you receive, and how it will affect Rohan throughout the fight. For example, damage to a large muscle (in the shoulder or haunch) could cause an uneven gait, and if he for example bucked with a haunch injury his reach would likely be shorter on the injured side. Etc. ^^

ATTACK: Always try to picture attack/defense in your head. Does it make sense? Is it logical, physically? Is the way it happened logical, or did you break some rule of physics? :)

Last but not least: good luck, have fun :D Here we go!
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

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
#5
rohan
Rohan watches the other stallion steadily. His large antlers remain poised, brandished proudly and ready for a fight, too eager to offer distraction from a problem he couldn’t possibly understand. In this, it is simple for the young warrior. He doesn’t need to understand (it is not in his nature to pry Mauja’s secrets from the depths of his grief), he simply offers a helping hand in the only way he is comfortable with—the blinding and distracting release of control. Rohan will do this for his king, if nothing else.

As his tail lashes against the thick skin of his flanks, green eyes gauge the other’s reaction, his subtle smirk deepening across his lips at Mauja’s apparent surprise. While much too proud for his own good, the Warlander still wishes to prove himself. For too long he had lived under the iron claws of his father, beaten down with steely eyes and tossed away for youth. Rohan will not stand to be looked over in such a way again. It may not be power that tempts the wildness of his heart, but he does love to be appreciated—who doesn’t?—it is only natural—

—suddenly there is movement that snatches his attention.

His distracted thoughts billow away like smoke from his eyes, and the Warlander focuses to see Mauja charging. There had been no warning from the elder male, no sound or grunt to caution him of Mauja’s advance, and he finds himself caught off-guard. However, the moment is short. Surprise quickly gives way to excitement, adrenaline and testosterone singing in his veins, the war cry far too sweet and beautiful for one who has not truly seen the tragedies of battle. He is honored to face his superior now.

Tossing his proud head eagerly and releasing a guttural cry, Rohan surges to the right, intending to side-pass Mauja’s advance while matching his stride. However, in all of his enthusiasm, his reaction is not quick enough. The collision is felt first—the heavy thrusting of the other’s shoulder into his breast, the shock reverberating through his bones—before a shuddering gasp echoes in his ears as the air is shoved roughly from his lungs.

The young warrior manages not to stumble for more than a few steps, his sideways movement having saved him from being thrust backwards, though he struggles to regain his breath. Brown nostrils flare wide and jaws part in his wheezy gasps, but Rohan pushes forward. Perhaps a more experienced warrior would circle Mauja in order to recover, but the Warlander knows no such tactics—only the push and pull of his muscles, the dull throbbing of his shoulder, and the reckless determination that drives him ever onward.

Gritting his jaw, muscles coil as Rohan shoves his hooves into the solid ground, dirt spraying and his body jolting when his motion is suddenly redirected. Curling his body around in a sharp arc, his neck turns to face the same direction as Mauja, head twisted and thrust upwards in an attempt to pierce Mauja’s right side with his antlers. There is little effort of aim. His mind is a thrill of adrenaline and excitement, too high on the pounding of his hooves and panting gasps resounding in his ears.


“Speech.”
Attack: 1/3
WC: 542

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
@Mauja | image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#6
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
[ Sorry for the wait. :/ Life ate me. ]

I'm SORRY—

But then, he wasn't sorry anymore. He wasn't sorry, because the quiet weight of his charge was met with sound. He wasn't sorry, because the grace and poise required when mourning was absent—gone—snatched away. In the matter of a heartbeat, maybe two, Rohan had robbed him of everything, stripped him of his dignity. He had been reduced to nothing, his grief trampled under their broad hooves, the dirge in his veins silenced by a cry (and he hadn't even hit the bastard yet). Was that all he was to be? Was that all this was to be? His sorrow abused, taken and flaunted and some compassionate offer made, and then—slaughter. Was that all Rohan had seen? A chance to fight? Itching, for the clash of bodies, of bruises and blood and choking on ashes?

He felt cheated of something beautiful, he felt used. It didn't matter how bitter he had been, it didn't matter how his attitude and his words had chafed and torn—it didn't matter because he had pulled himself together, somehow. He had taken what he thought was an offer of comfort, and had it turned back in his face with fangs bared.

He hated the sound of pride. He hated the sound of adrenaline-induced excitement. He hated everything that had to do with an appreciation of violence.

Don't you know this leads to death, and misery, and ruin?

They were killers in disguise, and he was fueling this fire, unintentionally—he had wanted something sacred, something ritualistic, something beautiful and dignified, not.. not this. Not the echo of a triumphant, eager cry ringing in his ears like a death hymn.

It made him angry. It made him furious. All errant sparks striking true, a blue fire flaring up in the depths of his soul, a heat rushing through his veins as his vision darkened. How dare you—

His ears had fled to lie flat against his neck, and then they collided gracelessly; the point of his shoulder slammed into Rohan's breast, the sandy neck cast like a shadow above his own, and for a single moment he could feel the Warlander's pulse against his body, feel the muscles at work in his chest as he kept on sidestepping. Then, there was space between them, Mauja's eyes pressed shut; he could feel Rohan's presence whispering away above his lowered neck, dodging the tip of his horn, but none of it mattered.

He was fighting the rage.

He was fighting the darkness lying just beyond his reach, fighting the urge to shriek, to unleash the flame, the ice, to pound and pound and pound until the Warlander lay broken on the ground—

His shoulder was aching in the darkness, blood vessels crushed beneath his dark skin—and all he could see was Rohan's green eyes lighting up above the body of his dead daughter.

It felt sick and wrong and twisted and he heard the whisper of movement, of grass bending, the sashay of a warrior and the murmur of his tail, and he knew that there was no way out of this. His throat felt too tight, constricted, choked, and he wanted to scream STOP! but all that came out was a snarl. This was not distraction—this was abuse, mockery of all the true death Mauja had caused. Was Rohan this heartless? Was Rohan so callous, so cold and so cruel, that he could enjoy this?

Did he not have any ghosts haunting him, riding on his shoulders, calling out for him to add Mauja to his collection?

So kill me now—

In the smothering darkness he was not sure where the other stallion was, but the sudden pricking of pain dispelled the uncertainty. Mauja's eyes flew open, hind hooves digging into the grass as he threw his forebody left—as if that was going to help. The sharp points of Rohan's antlers gouged into his skin, tearing red streaks over his right shoulder, matching the grin on his breast left by the tiger goddess. It hurt, a sharp, exquisite sensation, a scream going along the nerves—

And in wordless protest, he shrieked out loud, ears flat and eyes angry, wounded, lost—his forehooves came down on the solid ground, dug in with ease as he shifted forward and lashed out, once, with his hind hooves. He didn't care what part of Rohan he hit, he was just angry, and anger was dangerous. Anger was dangerous, because it burned, and in the narrow space between them the eagles came again; two of them, flaming bodies scorching Mauja's skin, leaving black stains along his entire flank as they clawed their way towards Rohan.

They were just too close for Mauja to escape burning as well, and in his muddled swell of anger there was despair.

He hadn't wanted to hurt Rohan.

[ 2/3 || @Rohan || 800 words. ]
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
TEACHING NOTES
PROSE: There were no grammatical or spelling errors that stood out to me, nor any tense changes, so that's great! ;D Over all a well-written post! There's two things I'm going to comment on, though:

* Emotion: I tend to talk about posts as either written from a satellite perspective, or from "within". I alternate between them myself, which is not on purpose, but simply because some days I just can't get "into" Mauja, and then it ends up being written sort of like "an observer" (satellite). Satellite posts tend to be a bit more dry, a bit more just like an explanation of events, and less like something that grips you and drowns you in the emotions of the character you are reading. I felt like your post was somewhat of a satellite post- you explain what's going on, you explain some thoughts, some reasoning, you touch upon emotions like the thrill of the battle, but I don't feel it, really. The first two paragraphs were a lot less like this, they were from within Rohan's head, and I got more of a "feel" for him, but once the battle started it's like we stepped out of Rohan's head and just watched him instead. I would've loved to get more of him, maybe some thoughts, maybe more what the pain feels like, how it affects him .. etc. It can be really difficult to get emotion into fight posts - like I said, some days I just can't and do satellite posts too - but if you manage to get emotion into it, it just makes it so much better to read (and write!!). <3

* I couldn't sum this one up with one word. But basically, when I read the post, the last two paragraphs feel a bit .. I don't know, disjointed? I feel like the movements he make - being shoved/sidestepping, and then coming back into attack Mauja, take place at the first part of the first paragraph, and then you kind of drop it until the next paragraph, where you've spoken about tactics in between but sort of pick up where you left off. It creates the illusion of more time having passed in the fight than it was, and this line "Brown nostrils flare wide and jaws part in his wheezy gasps, but Rohan pushes forward." has me uncertain of whether it is simply stating that Rohan keeps fighting through his awkward breathing, or if he is actually moving forward? Overall, I felt it was a bit confusing and like it lacked a red thread; maybe it would've been better to condense the movements into a single paragraph, and simply work the reasoning/breathing into it differently? Something like:

"Brown nostrils flare wide and jaws part in his wheezy gasps, but Rohan pushes forward. Gritting his jaw, muscles coil as Rohan shoves his hooves into the solid ground, dirt spraying and his body jolting when his motion is suddenly redirected. Perhaps a more experienced warrior would circle Mauja in order to recover, but the Warlander knows no such tactics—only the push and pull of his muscles, the dull throbbing of his shoulder, and the reckless determination that drives him ever onward. So he curls his body around in a sharp arc, his neck turns to face the same direction as Mauja, head twisted and thrust upwards in an attempt to pierce Mauja’s right side with his antlers."

Obviously it doesn't work flawlessly with these sentences, as they were crafted for a different order, but to me this makes more sense- you don't break the movement up too much with other stuff in between. This way, we get the movement tied together in a different way- I don't have to think "wait, his motion is redirected- from what???", I have it much closer to hand.

I feel like this was a lot of sentences trying to explain something I only understand abstractly, and I hope it made some kind of sense to you- if it didn't, just let me know and I'll try to explain it further/differently. <3

tl;dr - Great job avoiding grammar/spelling/tense errors! If you can, try to get the posts written a bit more from Rohan's perspective, as it adds more 'oomf' to a post. :D

DICE ROLL/DAMAGE: For the dice roll, Mauja rolled a 1, but he's also strong (dmg of 7.5) so MAYBE having the air shoved out of his lungs is okay, and maybe it is a bit too much for a roll of 1? Considering his attack couldn't have done a whole lot of else even if he had rolled 6 for damage. So I'm leaning towards saying you took a bit too much "damage" from it.

And then we have the whole clash.. they were facing each other head on, Mauja with his head low and to the left (Rohan's right), leading with the point of his right shoulder. If Rohan attempts to side-step right, it'll only put him more in Mauja's path as his neck is bent that way, so it seems an illogical choice to me- thus I am not sure if you actually meant to go left? It also means that once we collide, you'll be getting most of Mauja's neck underneath your own, which has the added risk of Mauja's horn passing below your throat once you keep on sidestepping to the right. Fortunately, he was a nice pony today and didn't try to stab ;) If you instead had gone further left, maybe the collision would've been on the right side of Rohan's breast, meaning Mauja's neck would've been harmlessly away from Rohan. Just food for thought. I usually use my hands to figure this out, moving them like the ponies and sticking e.g. my thumbs/little fingers out to mark sides. xP

ATTACK: I'm actually not at all sure how Rohan moved here. What I THINK it means is that Rohan kept moving forward, so he would be flank-to-flank with Mauja, and then curled inwards, so they would be side-by-side and facing the same direction. Since Rohan moved right (further to Mauja's left), and if he then turned, he would be on Mauja's left side, not right. On the other hand, the directions on how Rohan moved weren't super clear, so I might be totally wrong about what you did. :D But this is my interpretation. I just solved it by having Mauja close his eyes so Rohan could show up where he wanted, so I went with Mauja's right side.

It's not a bad attack- using the horns to gouge seems a standard, logical attack of choice for a unicorn with antlers! It's just how he got there that was a bit confusing. It's difficult to find a balance between writing too many directions and too few, you kind of have to try your way forward until you find a happy medium. :)
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

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
#7
rohan
The stallion’s aim is blind, his body lurching recklessly towards Mauja with a drive that is fueled more by power and adrenaline than skill and prowess. He does not wrestle, does not know as the older stallion does—the seemingly foolish gnashing of teeth and lashing of hooves, all to cause pain—and for what? The spotted is not his enemy. However, logic and reasoning have never been part of Rohan’s strong points. He just does, whether or not it makes sense. This simply feels right; to hone his skills, to give his friend a distraction, to offer him a pain that will overshadow whatever agony might be in his heart

—because that is what he would want.

To forget.

His muscles coil with this passion, with this blind fervor, and the jarring from his antlers down to his spine tells him he’s made his mark. It is not as sudden or harsh as it had been to impale the Riftian Gods (clearly, the Warlander still remembers the abrupt shuddering of his body, of his bones, and the trembling of punctured muscles bleeding around his antlers and into his eyes, hot and burning—)

A foreign, angry shriek thrusts Rohan out of his memories. Narrowed eyes open a little wider, seeing for the first time the ugly gashes along Mauja’s side—and it feels strange, to actually see evidence of his fury, of his power carved into the flesh of an ally, a friend—he can feel his heart hammering wildly against his ribs, skipping and squeezing and hurting and flying. Perhaps if he had more compassion in his heart (that barricaded, beaten heart that he dares to call a stone), then Rohan would flounder more in the prickling guilt, the itching shame of his joy in pain—but it is not so.

He feels empowered

unbreakable

And he will not rob himself of this glorious exhilaration.

Alight with the adrenaline that pumps a beautiful fury through his veins and into his bones, the Warlander nearly skips, pale hooves only skimming the ground where gravity forces them, likely to thrive like this forever—until the beast catches up to him, reaching out with angry claws and wild, haunted eyes.

Mauja’s abrupt halt is unexpected, the Warlander’s flanks grazing the ground as he forces himself to slow, fighting the power of his momentum with a half-rear. The lower part of his left shoulder throbs from where Mauja’s hoof had made contact, the pain shooting in pinpoints from the point of connection to his head. There it festers, fueling the fire that blazes beneath his skin. Releasing a guttural cry of primitive and furious passion, Rohan lunges forward, teeth bared and seeking the thick, beating flesh of Mauja’s flank. Perhaps he would have made a warrior of himself, or perhaps he would have looked back in regret and shame—but instead the hot blaze of talons and wings come to give him their savage glory, lurching like snakes at the oncoming stallion.

His war cry turns into one of pain, a terrible shriek that claws from his lips and bursts violently into the air. Instinctively, Rohan throws his head down in an attempt to protect his eyes. The flames lick down the length of his neck and to his shoulders, blistering and scorching and throbbing, with the acrid smell of burnt hair and blistered flesh infesting his nostrils. “Not again!” The Warlander growls, remembering the dragons, the fire, how his body had hurt as it does now—the pain unforgiving and entirely awful. “Damn you, Mauja—flaming birds?! He almost laughs at the irony—because of course the ice guy would have fire—that just makes complete sense!

Clenching his jaw against the bristling pain, Rohan leaps forward again. He stumbles once when the movement irritates his sore, scalded flesh, but finds his stride with a snarling hiss spit from his teeth. He doesn’t have a plan of action, he doesn’t even know exactly what he’s going to do next, but he knows the call rising in his (boiling) blood. A call for action. Pumping his legs, the Warlander lashes out sideways with bared, gnashing teeth—searching for any vulnerable part of Mauja’s face.


“Speech.”
Attack: 2/3
WC: 702

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
@Mauja | image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#8
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
A shattered glass cannot hold water.

And Mauja was just pieces strewn out over the ground, rubies in the snow—for torn veins cannot hold blood, and the red was trickling out between split skin to stain his coat. Each movement forced more of it through faulted pathways, and his body cried its red bizarrely. Please, he wanted to say, nerves singing with the bite and rend, the scorch and the tear, please, I never meant for this to happen

Or did he? His right flank was throbbing in unison with his shoulder, where fierce teeth had pinched his skin moments before; through slitted, burning eyes he watched as Rohan cried out in pain as fire ate its way along his crest and back before disappearing, and leaving only the stench of charred flesh and singed hair in its wake.

He was a wolf running from himself, from his own destruction, from his own penchant for violence—he was a beaten wolf, lost, confused, angry.

Rohan.. he had paid his price now, in the cry of agony, in the growls of damnation, and Mauja's fires began to grow cold; he stood tall and defiant, his face hard, closed off, (—like his heart). The world seemed to tremor with his pulse, with the rhythm of his pain, and he wanted it to end. Here, now, the sooner the better—do you enjoy the pain I gave you? He had cried not again, he had known the terrors of flame, but Mauja could not pity him.

He simply stood cold and resolute, bathed in the glory of his frigid ire, refusing to be the one to walk away first from this—but intending to walk away all the same, because could they not both see how ill this had gone? How .. misguided Rohan's efforts and offers had been?

Mauja bent his pride to the sound of silence and began to turn away, thinking to leave the Warlander to his agonized misery and tend to his own, throbbing wounds.

But he was wrong.

The grass murmured again, and—

—no.

He wanted to scream, at the machines of war, the folly of battle and bloodlust, at this perfect circle spinning ever on and on upon the rails of destruction—at these gears of war turning ceaselessly, at their seamless merging, at their relentlessness. He began to turn his head, curling around his wounded side simply because it was easier and did not stretch his tender, torn skin. Dark lips parted, his despair and his vindication starting to fall like blows upon the air: "Have you never—"

But he got no further in peace; the darkness of Rohan's mouth met his right eye, a powerful blow rattling his head, and fuck

For a moment, the world crystallized into a pristine, icy pattern. For a moment, he was soaring beyond the confines of his body, impossibly light, just weightless

"—KILLED?!"

The word came out a distorted shriek as Mauja threw himself a step away from Rohan's maw, from the—the fucking agony ripping through half his skull, the pounding, the roaring, the terrifying, dizzying vertigo as he clamped his right eye shut. Oh, fuck, it fucking hurt, the bruised and crushed nerves around his eye overshadowing the other pains, the ache of burning, the feeling of blood trickling over pale skin—it faded into background noise, trampled into the dirt beneath the pounding rhythm of the question: what did he do to my eye?

"FUCK YOU!" he ended up shrieking at Rohan when the dams of his carefully contained fear finally broke—and with mindless savagery he threw himself at the warrior, heading for his left shoulder, if only because he could still see Rohan's head that way. What else was there left to do? When every fragile trust is breached, when every last scrap of sanity has been scraped from the very lining of your fucking skull, what else can you do?

So Mauja succumbed to his despair, his grief, and his anger; half-blinded he tried to smash his bleeding chest into the Warlander, digging his hind hooves into the firm earth beneath him and rising into a rear, pawing, pounding, striking, the desperate fear and fury betrayed by the erratic, aimless pattern of his strike, and the sobs choked in his throat.

[ 3/3 || @Rohan || 711 words. ]
drama queen Mau. for the record it's just a horse shiner. ^^
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
TEACHING NOTES
PROSE: I absolutely loved the first half of your post! It was a wonderful read (well, all of it was, but by its nature the first paragraphs tend to be more of an introspection thing, giving us a sort of 'unhindered' look into the mind of the pony). <3

I felt like this post had more of a .. I don't want to say red thread, but nothing felt out of order/out of flow for me this time around? It felt connected all the way through, with movements, etc. :) Great job.

The only thing I have to touch upon is this sentence: "Mauja’s abrupt halt is unexpected, the Warlander’s flanks grazing the ground as he forces himself to slow, fighting the power of his momentum with a half-rear." A horse's flank is the side of the body - how on earth are Rohan's flanks touching the ground..? Did you mean his hocks?

NEW CATEGORY: I don't know what to call this one because I don't know what part of the rubric it goes under- probably "Realism" but who knows? Basically it is about interpretation of posts/attacks, and keep in mind that what I'm saying now has no clear "right and wrong". It is all about intention and perception, which means that the final say is the judge's say. It doesn't matter how I meant an attack if I couldn't get it across properly!

When I was reading your post I began to furrow my brows as Rohan mentioned "skipping", because to me it implied running, and as far as I knew, we weren't doing any running .. and then Mauja's "abrupt halt" I was definitely confused. I hadn't meant to write Mauja as running, simply as throwing his forebody left (to get away from the blow across the shoulder), landing, shifting his weight forward, kicking. Obviously, you did not interpret it as such, which might be because I sort of did what I advised you against doing- I threw a bit of introspection in between, which, naturally, makes it feel like longer time has passed between the two movements. Bad Neo!

So like I said, there is no right or wrong here. :) Whoever judges it will determine what actually happened.

DICE ROLL/DAMAGE: You took the kick fine, I don't have much to comment on. Bruises are okay to not mention 24/7 because yeah, they're there in the back of your mind, but you won't exactly be unable to use your shoulder when it is just light bruising. ;)

As for the fire damage, I get the feeling you took it fairly! I don't know if you've ever been burned, but I haven't, and for that reason I believe it is harder to write something really deep about it, at least for me. You took the damage sort of in the tail end of your post, which is how the flow naturally ends up, so for this post *I* think it was fine, but try to not forget about it too much in the next post as it is such a major injury. :) (Says the one who always forgets about her own, boo.)

ATTACK: Flank attack - basic and good, though it would've been sweet if you had decided on left or right yourself (for both attacks). Given that Mauja just kicked you in the left shoulder I picked right, because that side would be closer to Rohan's head. Because Mauja hardly moved in the space between his fire attack and Rohan's next attack (face) I stayed with Rohan being on Mauja's right. The face attack is both unspecific and specific enough to work - face area, but leaving it open for me.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

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
#9
rohan
He doesn’t stop until he feels something between his teeth, until he tastes the bitter warmth of blood on his tongue, his terrible and brutal thirst satisfied as hungry jaws rip and tear like a lion to its feast. The stallion clenches his teeth tighter over Mauja’s face, where skin is skin tight and fragile over bone, and the Warlander feels as though he could peel the flesh clean off were it not for his sense of reality—that tiny, delicate inkling that tries to scream at him: Mauja is not your enemy! Some part of the Warlander cries for his friend, for himself, for this violence that they have subjected themselves to.

Why do they do this?

The spotted stallion’s question rings in his ears, trilling like a bell that echoes through his mind, his body—his bones—and demands of his morals an insight, to just try to understand, what it might be like to kill. The only battle that Rohan has ever truly experienced had been those of Helovia, the sea of writhing and bloody bodies, all pushing against one another to seize a piece of their dastardly enemy. He had almost distanced himself then, hardly seeing those filthy gods as anything more than things—pests that they needed to be rid of. His heart had cried a call of his warrior spirit, urging him on, and it rises now; because they must.

They must fight, if they are to win. Rohan needs no more satisfaction than that now, grasping their violence as practice—practice for war, whenever it might fall upon them (and he doesn’t doubt that it will, their world ever uneasy and difficult with each other).

But for now this is their training, their rehearsal for the war to come, and so he detaches himself from the Friesian with a wild snarling of breath. Rohan can feel the pulsing of his heartbeat through his bruised shoulder, but the dull throb is diminished by the searing agony that blisters over his neck and withers, the pain lancing like razorblades through his veins. Jaw muscles clench with his misery, his mind screaming at him to walk it off—that this will not bring him down. But perhaps it is too much

—and not enough. Not enough, apparently.

Too soon he feels the weight of Mauja bearing upon him, the shock against bruised and burned flesh sparking painfully across his skin, soon followed by another wave of pain when they rise. The Warlander is carried up by his spotted partner, bolstered forcefully into a rear. Rohan steps back, attempting to balance his weight, but the excruciating distress of his scorched flesh being pulled and ripped by the movement is enough to overthrow his effort.

With an agonizing shriek, the stallion falls backwards, able to twist only enough to avoid falling on his back, though his whole body is racked by the force of his descent. He wheezes for a short moment, lungs struggling to regain his breath, eyes blinking against the black spots that hinder his vision, and blood trickling in generous trails from his ravaged neck and shoulders. His whole body hurts with a raw, torturing pain. Had he been anyone else, had he had any less of a stubborn and fiery spirit, then the Warlander likely would have given up right then.

But he doesn’t have it in him to quit.

Gritting his teeth and growling his protest, he pushes himself up from the ground. His hairy body is littered with shallow cuts and bruises, but all are paled in comparison to the ghastly, blistered, and bleeding wounds from Mauja’s flaming birds. He sways once, the dots slowly fading from his eyes before he focusses on the Friesian, his spotted ass the pinpoint of all his fury. Summoning the last threads of his energy, the Warlander leaps forward, hoping to close the distance between them. He narrows his eyes before swinging his backend around, using what strength he has left to lash out with pale hooves—hoping to strike anything.

This
is his final challenge, his final protest against his aching body.


“Speech.”
Attack: 3/3
WC: 687

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
@Mauja | image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#10
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
We are engines of destruction—

If it was one thing Mauja had potential for, it was destruction. He had swept through his life like a hurricane leaving nothing but death in its wake—ahead of him lay more violence, and behind him laid a trail of broken bodies. How many had he killed over the years? How many had died because of him?

Far, far too many, and still the hounds of war kept on baying, crying, and the ice lay so close at hand when the darkness of his fury bore down upon his mind (—heart). Bitter, angry, vengeful and aimless—how could he not fall back into this pit of vipers every time? How could he not rise to the bait, fall for the ruse, and in erratic bursts, unleash the ruin that lay within? He wanted to be better, to create something beautiful, yet the only thing he knew was how to destroy.

He had broken Ophelia's heart—burned her, as he had burned Rohan. He had brought Nyx to her knees. He had burned Tembovu. They had been friendly spars, all of them.

What did he know of peace? What did he know of creating? Of life?

All he touched turned to death and ashes while the regret rose like bile in his throat.

The blood on his chest smeared against Rohan's sandy fur, leaving a grim stain as the Warlander joined him in rising; Mauja's hooves fell through the air like leaden, aimless weights, darkness clawing its way up from the abyss—

(so you're at it again)

—in a stark mockery of his half-blind state. He wanted nothing more to do with war—with violence and with pain, suffering. Gone was the perfect, pristine soldier, the one that watched and waited, circled and spun and struck, quick and clean, precise and efficient.

What was left was just a monster, body weeping red while pale eyes wept tears. Raw power, badly contained, badly used, leaking out through the cracks in his skin (like golden scars in a dream, bursting from within with that light—) as he fell helplessly towards the earth. The shock traveled up his legs from his hooves, jarred his nerves, dragged his head through hell and back; the right side of his face pulsated viciously, and as Rohan toppled Mauja was content to simply stand there.

He was done with this shit.

Broken nerve endings sang a hymn of pain, the dull throb of bruises rising like a crescendo as the adrenaline—the anger at Rohan's joy—slowly washed away, leaving him brittle and broken, hollow.

But Rohan would not remain fallen. As if from afar Mauja watched his blistered skin stretch and crack, droplets of red racing for the sunlight; the sandy stallion rose, and still Mauja simply watched him, even as he charged.

Defying his pain for the sake of war

He wondered if he was a coward, for giving in. He wondered what would've happened if this had been a fight to the death.

But, as Rohan spun and presented Mauja with a grade A view of his ass, a small, wicked smile curved his dark lips—an expression so at odds with the leaden apathy settling in his soul. If this had been real, he thought, dully, as he twisted left, Rohan would've been dead with an ice spike through his heart.

Two, pale hooves smacked solidly into the flat of his right shoulder, smearing dirt upon the streaks of red—Mauja's eyes rolled back, a gasp and a grunt leaving his mouth as he absorbed the pain.

Because for one brief, blessed moment, it almost felt like pleasure.

But then it was just a throb, a dull ache in both muscles and bone, and Mauja turned his head to watch the other stallion with his one open, tear-blurred eye—looking at him in silence, as if asking, are you done now?.

Because I sure as hell am.

[ Closing defense || @Rohan || 650 words. ]
I noticed the roll for Rohan's last attack was incorrectly labeled as a critical hit, but the damage taken in the calculation matched the dice roll (3). ^^
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
TEACHING NOTES
PROSE: Stunning job again. <3 I feel like your posts have improved a lot, which is quite fantastic given that spars are pretty short! You received no feedback before your first post, but let me tell you that I've felt a very real difference reading posts #2 and #3 compared to #1 (not that it was bad! these are just, better). It feels like you've found "how to" write Rohan in fights without losing that which makes him, "him" in the posts, if you get what I mean?

DICE ROLL/DAMAGE: I feel like rearing/being semi-pushed into a rear by Mauja is a plausible reaction to the situation. However, Mauja's strike seems to simply have disappeared into thin air. It is also quite vague on how they are positioned - I didn't include an aim in Mauja's attack, but neither do you specify how they ended up standing. Head to head? Head-to-shoulder? Normally it doesn't matter super much because we didn't extend them stopping here, but in the case of what happened to Mauja's pawing it is relevant. If they were head-to-head it's possible he just hit the air next to Rohan (but it still should've been mentioned as a miss, I think), but if they were at an angle (say, Mau was more T-boning Rohan) it seems unlikely he would've missed. However, one could also place the duty of aiming on me, but as the one taking the attacks you always have the right/ability to relocate it, if realistically possible. :)

I didn't foresee him falling over! But I don't think it was bad either, aside from the usual "might want to re-think how vulnerable you make yourself in a fight" - but this was a spar and Mau was hardly going to murder Rohan, or take advantage of his situation to do anything mean.

ATTACK: Nothing to say here, really. Clear, plausible. Simply a good attack :)

I like when I have to have less and less comments as the fight progresses. :D Means you've done a good job in my eyes!

Thanks for the lovely fight, I hope you found something useful in my comments!

Thank you whoever will judge it :)
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#11
By my verdict: MAUJA is the winner!

MAUJA
Realism [+0.5]
You have a lot of fighting experience and a good grasp on how fighting works, yet I constantly felt like your realism had areas where it was lacking. Your attacks and defenses were generally well described and made sense, but your injuries were left short and rarely appeared again later in the fight, and you didn’t seem to utilize terrain or breed differences in any way other than an occasional, shallow mention. For instance, I’d have liked to see something about the dusk light, whether a blinding glance at the sinking sun or how it cast weird shadows making it hard to see attacks, or how the fog just at your feet made it difficult to track movement, or just something that explained that you were fighting in something other than a blank realm full of some dirt and grass.

In your first post you did mention a bit of your breed and the speed that comes with it (though all you mentioned was the breed, the speed read implied) but you didn’t do anything with it. I was also left confused in this post how Mauja charged at Rohan’s shoulder when Rohan had his antlers lowered? I’m not sure how he could have realistically avoided those tines, so that attack did not come off as plausible.

In your second post you did bring in some of the terrain which I enjoyed seeing, and your defense and attacks made sense. Your injuries also made sense, but didn't go into enough detail for me to fully understand the depth of them and so I couldn’t gauge if you’d taken enough damage for a roll of 4. I did however like that you had your own magic attack cause you injury!

In your third post you do bring in some terrain, but again it’s very mild. You take two bites from rohan, but even though you had the one go for your eye, it didn’t read like enough damage, especially for a critical hit. Obviously the eye is a tender region, but it’s also protected by a lot of bone so biting it is difficult for any creature to do. You explain it’s painful, but you don’t really detail the injury, just that it hurts and it’s hard to see, which feels more like a damage range of 3-4 instead of a critical. You return fire with a rear which works, but I’d have liked to see some mention of your older injuries like your burns and your gouged shoulder which would have been in use with your pawing attacks - you touch on it yes, but again not with much detail and it certainly doesn’t seem to hinder your attack in any fashion. I did like the eye as a source of the injury though simply because that’s not one people usually take damage to!

In your final post you state that mauja took Rohan’s buck squarely to his shoulder, but an attack like that should be pretty devastating as a horse’s buck is one of its stronger attacks - yet you rolled a damage of 3 and write off the injury as just a grunt-worthy pain, which left me disappointed and seemed very unrealistic.
“Two, pale hooves smacked solidly into the flat of his right shoulder, smearing dirt upon the streaks of red—Mauja's eyes rolled back, a gasp and a grunt leaving his mouth as he absorbed the pain.”

In that same post you also have some minor power play:
“The blood on his chest smeared against Rohan's sandy fur, leaving a grim stain as the Warlander joined him in rising.”
Rohan did not say Mauja’s blood smeared on him, so you cannot say that it did. Although this doesn’t affect anyone, it’s still a declarative statement about a character that isn’t yours.

I’d like to see you really explain what is injured, not just that it hurts, but what the injury is and how it will affect the way you fight. I’d also like you tie in stats and terrain more often to explain why something works, or doesn’t, to help bring a better element of realism in. Your attacks and defenses though are well done, and your explanations of those are spot on.


Emotion [+3]
I was never left wanting to understand Mauja, and I loved it. You are so skilled at tying in feeling to the battleground, which most people struggle with, but it seems to be the only purpose Mauja ever fights so you do it effortlessly with him. The way you got inside Mauja’s head was spectacular!

A favorite from post 1:
“...and fuck, his fighting mantra had become ‘I'm sorry’.”

A favorite from post 2:
“He hated the sound of pride. He hated the sound of adrenaline-induced excitement. He hated everything that had to do with an appreciation of violence.”


Prose [+4]
I absolutely loved reading all your posts. You have such a gorgeous style and you create such vivid imagery and memorable quotes constantly! You really have a unique perspective on how to explain things, especially feelings or themes, and it’s amazing.

A favorite from post 1:
“ ‘.. whatever,’ he finally said—or tried to say—because the rust had stolen his voice when bitter anger gave it no bite, so it came out a raspy whisper.”


Readability [+3]
Very easy to read and understand with no noticeable grammar issues or sentence structure problems!


Finally tally: 34+(10.5*2)-10(over 800 words in 2/3)= 45 HP

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

ROHAN
Realism [-1]
You did really well for being a newer fighter, and you seem to have pretty good fighting mechaics with the timing and the movement. You do describe things well, but your injuries need some work with explanation and remembering to mention them during the fight. I’d also have loved to see more stat involvement, explaining why something did or didn’t work because of agility or endurance etc. Similarly, though you do mention terrain a post or two, you don’t really use it and it’s very brief, so I really felt like you guys were just fighting in a dirt pit surrounded by nothing - for instance, I’d have liked to see something about the dusk light, whether a blinding glance at the sinking sun or how it cast weird shadows making it hard to see attacks, or how the fog just at your feet made it difficult to track movement, etc.

In your first post you have what looks like a simple directional error, but drastically changes what you were trying to accomplish. You write that you’re evading Mauja’s charge, but you evade into him when you wrote right rather than left, so that made your entire response to his attack unrealistic and implausible. The damage you took however was great for a roll of 1, especially with the way you detailed it out:
“...his sideways movement having saved him from being thrust backwards, though he struggles to regain his breath.”
The only thing I want to touch upon is that it’s unlikely he’d be out of breath given 1. it’s such a small damage roll and 2. being hit in the chest doesn’t affect horses the same as people regarding breath. A horse is more likely to be winded when hit in the neck (for obvious reasons) or the sides, the chest/shoulders are so well protected with muscle and bone that the lungs are tucked safely away and nothing can really get compressed enough - maybe with a full on buck.

The way you explained your turn to bring your antlers into Mauja was great and you mentioned some breed and terrain, though didn’t really use it too much, as in in what way does that breed difference or terrain help or hinder you?

In your second post the way your write taking the buck was odd to me, because though you mention it and that it hurt, it was like it had already happened? I don’t know how to explain it, and I couldn’t find anything wrong exactly, but it just read oddly compared to the way you took your damage in all your other posts (including the fire damage later in this same post). That being said, you don’t describe the injury very much and it just seems forgotten about as quickly as you’re done writing it, which was disappointing, especially given it was a buck which can be pretty powerful. You took more damage with the fire, but again I was left wanting more explanation of the injuries sustained (how badly was he burned??) and so overall it felt like you did not sustain sufficient damage for a roll of 5, which you easily could have, given your sources were a buck and fire, it just wasn’t detailed enough. I’d also liked to have seen how that injury would continue to affect you in the fight - instead you go right into lurching forward to bite at Mauja’s face as if just being burned all over your neck and back didn’t bother you at all.

You also wrote this:
“...the Warlander’s flanks grazing the ground as he forces himself to slow...”
Which doesn’t make sense because a horse’s flanks are more near the hips, so very tall and very side-ways. Maybe this was an anatomy error or writing oops, but just reading it as is it was unrealistic for that to occur.

In your third post you write as if Mauja pushed you into a rear. Now, I think you meant it to be like, because Mauja reared that of course a good response is for Rohan to rear, which is very common in fighting horses, but the way it read was more like Mauja physically pushed you up which didn’t make any sense. You fall backwards, which is risky, but fit really well given your 6 damage roll, however you don’t really seem to sustain much injury from it (just some scrapes as you termed it) which again didn’t seem like enough damage. You also didn’t mention any of Mauja’s attacks with his forehooves, which even if they missed due to you falling, should have been explained as missing. I was glad to see you touch upon your burns, but you don’t seem hindered by them in any way as you get up, turn, and buck, all in one fluid movement. I would have liked to see some inclusion of exhaustion as well by this point in the spar, especially given Mauja has the higher endurance stat - a buck takes some energy, especially right after getting up (which can be difficult and ungainly for a horse to do).

Overall you have a pretty good idea for what attacks and defenses work, but to bring in better realism really describe your injuries to make sure the damage matches the dice roll, and continue to mention them as you fight. Try and draw in more breed/stat differences and terrain mention and use!


Emotion [+2]
You did a really fantastic job at constantly providing motive and purpose to Rohan’s tactics and involvement in the spar. I also liked how you tied in some past experiences, such as his pre-helovia experiences with his father and the Rift wars! I definitely felt your first few posts were stronger and it slowly got more lost to technical writing as the fight went on though, especially given how the fight ended. I was a lot more curious why Rohan really felt he couldn’t give up at the end (because you needed one more fight post still, but transform that OOC reason into IC!).

A favorite from post 2:
“...and it feels strange, to actually see evidence of his fury, of his power carved into the flesh of an ally, a friend...”


Prose [+3]
You had really beautiful writing that moved together really well with excellent flow and imagery. You utilized a wide vocabulary and really helped set the scenes, a joy to read!

A favorite from post 1:
“His large antlers remain poised, brandished proudly and ready for a fight, too eager to offer distraction from a problem he couldn’t possibly understand. In this, it is simple for the young warrior. He doesn’t need to understand (it is not in his nature to pry Mauja’s secrets from the depths of his grief), he simply offers a helping hand in the only way he is comfortable with—the blinding and distracting release of control. Rohan will do this for his king, if nothing else.”


Readability [+3]
Very easy to read and understand with no noticeable grammar issues or sentence structure problems!


Finally tally: 29.5+(7*2)= 43.5 HP


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