the Rift


we're destined to repeat this injury [Erebos vs. Ki'irha]

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#1
EREBOS
Erebos refused to be stuck in a rut.
 
He was made of too much determination, too much indignation, too much darkness and too much light. He’d been carved out of the Aurora Basin, smiled beneath its chilling winds and harpooning landscape, clawed his way out of infernal hate and loathing aspirations and lumped them together into one treacherous pursuit. The boy had been daunted, had been pummeled, had been laced and woven and tethered with danger, lacerations, and the feeling of loss, but he scraped his way along the paths, the corridors, the parlors, and hallways of resolution – he was shaped from sterner stuff, and he’d show everyone was it meant to be daunting, terrifying, and formidable.
 
So his ambitions coiled themselves around his Machiavellian mind and he wandered from place to place, rune to rune, searching and deciphering, dismantling the fragments of what he wanted, what he craved, so that they were more than just piercing blades and shattering hearts: they were a part of him, another means to an end, another glorious, triumphant display of monstrosity and fortification. He needed this, craved it, yearned for the glory of victory, for the taste of conquest and success, because it meant, further down the road to ruin, he’d be able to obliterate what he loathed the most.
 
The scion and his fox traced and traversed their way down amongst the Endless Blue, past the quarry of rocks and stones molded upon the shore, eyes narrowed, intents and purposes fastened tightly to their chests – because they had to become better, stronger. The creature they sought seemed nestled along the dunes, star-lit and bright amidst the last striking, blazing feel of the sun, a Corporal they barely knew (and wasn’t it funny, that no matter how many he’d met along the way, that no matter how many he greeted and cherished, there were still creatures he didn’t know lurking within the icy chambers?). He sauntered closer and closer to her, affable, amiable, and friendly, ignoring Orsino’s blank slate and threatening sibilance dashing over their connection – and faced her as one more of her soldiers, another being filling in the ranks. In this stead, canvas, and tapestry, he wasn’t a prince, but a warrior, willing and able to condemn and devastate. “Ki’irha,” his voice commanded, eager and fervent, almost innocent, dedicated to his cause, nestled, coiled, and curled with a tilt to his head, a light, ardent outlook to his eyes (and riddled with a nefarious, unholy bounty to his heart, too barbed, too thorned), proffering her with the query he’d been harnessing since his search for her began. “Would you be willing to practice with me?”



[0/3. 444 words. – Erebos vs Ki’irha Teaching Spar
Timeline: Normal
Setting: Endless Blue, nearing sundown. Near a section of rocks, dunes, along the shoreline.
Feel free to make the first attack! I’ll provide notes once everything is started. ^_^]
Image Credit

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#2

The tender waves lapped at the shore. The waxing and waning tides, following the whims of the moon, erased even the deepest hoof prints pressed into the constantly refreshed shore. The blue closed her eyes, exhaling softly. If only she could be like the sandy beach, with waves crashing over her, erasing everything. Everything that had piled up in her mind, weighing on her shoulders like a yoke that kept her captive, made her sedentary. If only she could be freed from her shackles, be allowed to run and breathe and find release from whatever it was that held her back. Emotions were something that had been beat from her at an early age. They interrupted what was important, and kept her from ascending into the throne she had been urged to covet by a battle-crazed father. But somehow, being a queen of war, a haunt made of stars and night and death, seemed like a clouded memory, a far off feat that would never be obtained. Is that even what she wanted anymore? She was a corporal, but she didn't know those who ranked among her soldiers. She had no respect, though certainly no respect was due for a strange mare who had sauntered in and done nothing remarkable. She was nothing remarkable. She was an emotional being, and no matter the way she attempted to quell the flames, the embers always built up again.

Stormy eyes blinked open lazily at the call of her name. Turning her head, she watched the figure approach. He was tall, sturdy, pressed starkly against the fading Orangemoon sky in its vivid shades. As he came closer, she realized he had a face she didn't recognize. How did he know her? He was young, like she, carved from a blue slab into a muscled buck, though from him oozed a certain air of friendliness that she couldn't quite believe. She moved delicately to face him, with a certain sway in her hips, her eyes glittering beneath a raised brow. A companion trailed him, though she had never seen such a fox in her few years. "I'd be happy to practice with you, darling," she mused, looking up to blue eyes nestled an a sculpted and crowned head. He was much larger than she, and therefore most likely slower. But he looked strong. Perhaps what she needed was a good beating to pay for past transgressions, or a triumphant victory to shake her from her funk. "Though, I don't believe we've ever met. My apologies if your acquaintance has slipped my mind." Either way, she would learn him today.

She dipped her head in respect, lacking her usual sweeping bow to initiate their spar. She trotted off, circling around him to place distance between them. Her hooves sank into the uneven sand and she scowled, knowing there would be no sureness in her footing. At least it was a disadvantage they would both share. Eyes passed over his form, evaluating him. He showed no obvious weaknesses. All she could find were strengths he had against her. Oh well.

She paused, facing him yet again. Her velvet-lined nostrils flared, dragging in a deep gulp of the salty air. Her haunches coiled and she sprang, each step acclimating her to the unusual turf as she heaved herself forward. Her neck arched then stretched, jaws opening then snapping shut, aiming to capture a bite of his dark tresses, or catch a harsh taste of his sleek neck. She braced her shoulder for impact as well, unsure of how she would meet him in their first passionate encounter. She had no doubts he would take her attack well - his sheer size and rigid muscles were armor for him, protecting him from her delicate physique. But even the smallest fly could be bothersome, and her intent was to pick away at him until weakness shone through.

She tried to harness her momentum into an escape, attempting to slip away before he returned her attack. She lashed out, kicking a haphazard buck towards the stallion. She typically preferred close combat, but she needed to see how the bearded beast moved before she hovered close.

The corporal waited for him. She had no time to think. She only had time to attack and react. Attack and react. She buried everything else deep down as she let the spar take over her world. And as she allowed her true nature to take over, the sounds of everything else faded. The ache in her heart, the one that burned and stabbed and bled, suddenly let go. Her regrets had nothing to do but disappear.

The white noise faded, and for the first time in weeks, everything was clear. For the moment, she was free.

1/3 || WC 799 || Summary:: Ki'irha circles around him, trying to create some distance, before coming to a stop in front of him, facing him. She then runs towards him. She runs parallel to him, against his left side, and tries to bite anything she can grab ahold of including his mane or neck. She then kicks out at him while trying to put space between them.

Ki'irha


@Erebos I'm so excited!
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#3
EREBOS
 It was funny how so few knew him. Perhaps he wandered from the Basin far too often and hadn’t become a sight amongst the multitude. Maybe he was just one more member straying amongst the scenes.

But he’d be renowned one day. They’d all remember his name.

“Erebos,” he struck between the sand and the stone, a cheeky little grin forming around his lips. The prince granted her nothing more – not his heritage, not his worth – and instead, watched between narrowed eyes as she began her arts, introduced him to her macabre dance.

He became another moving figure; and though he wasn’t as nimble or graceful as he would be on the other grounds (the wide, open sea, the flickering, yawning palisade of Poseidon), he still managed to conjure a worthy pace in the deep dunes, a slow, methodical trot, trying to formulate a way to not grind his muscles into lethargic notions too soon.

Then she struck, smaller and likely swifter than him, rummaging through the dampened loam, the flickering barbs of sunset, to face him, then arrive at his left side. And despite his darting to the right, her dentals scorched a lengthy trail down the left portion of his neck: biting, clawing, ripping through pelt and fibers, inciting a pool of blood, a long laceration from timely trappings, along his nape. 

He’d underestimated her.

She was not made of stars and constellations and living moonlight. She was carved by something much more unrelenting, much more savage.

Erebos’ breath came out in a rush, and he tried not to scream from the blunt, keen trauma. Not again, he whimpered through his skull, remembering the predacious, harsh melancholy of Ashamin’s spar in the burst of midnight, the utter failure at missing Rexanna’s hide in their final volley. Was he constantly doomed to failure? Is this how he was going to start?

When would it end? When would he be able to make his mark? When would he able to show the world what he was truly capable of? Or was this it? Was he damned to be a fiasco, a catastrophe, a disaster?

Even her buck landed along his hide, lightly grazing against his left shoulder, forming another bruise to join the masses littered under his pelt. He could feel and sense Orsino’s frustration – it blended so well with his own – and the boy clenched his jaw, ground his teeth, and tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing. 

Amidst the echoes and billows of pain, his mind schemed and he tried to conjure, invoke, think of something, anything, that could give him the upper hand. He was already sore, already bludgeoned, already vexed and irritated. Fury rushed to his head, ferocity lunged through his veins, licked and tasted and relished the overwhelming tenacity stuck inside his soul. And for once, he didn’t require the devil on his shoulder; he was already enamored with the reaches of hell. Orsino remained silent as Erebos dictated their course.

The lad drove into the shore, chasing after the star-lit mare. While slower, while sluggish, he didn’t give in to the temptation of quitting, of giving up, of simply surrendering. He attempted to reach for her left, while the vicious, unwinding presence of Orsino drifted to her right. As the sable kitsune snapped at her right hind legs, grasping for anything and everything, the prince tried to angle his teeth along her left hind, reaching, reaching, reaching, and hoping if he managed to snag her, that a bright, blinding ball of flame would also come with it. Maybe his touch would embroil them all. Perhaps they’d all be roasted and smoldered, clad in ashes, embers, and coals, when the crusade had finally ended.

The Corporal would remember him after this day. He was sure of it.

[1/3. 635 words.
* Ki’irha’s attack on the left side of his neck. Her teeth drag down his nape, ripping off pelt and leaving a decent-sized, bleeding laceration.
* Her buck/kick also lands lightly on his left shoulder, forming a bruise.
* He attempts to chase her down – Erebos angling towards her left, and Orsino trying to snag at her right. Orsino tries to bite at her right hind legs, and Erebos attempts to bite at her left hind; intending to use his fire magic if his touch manages to leave a mark.]
Image Credit


Teaching Notes:

Yay! Welcome to another spar~~~

[Also why do you need my help because this post was lovely]

What Went Well:
* Well, let’s be real. Your writing is beautiful. I loved these touches of emotions and backstory from Ki’irha, and they were all written very elegantly. 

This passage in particular: Emotions were something that had been beat from her at an early age. They interrupted what was important, and kept her from ascending into the throne she had been urged to covet by a battle-crazed father. But somehow, being a queen of war, a haunt made of stars and night and death, seemed like a clouded memory, a far off feat that would never be obtained. Is that even what she wanted anymore? She was a corporal, but she didn't know those who ranked among her soldiers. She had no respect, though certainly no respect was due for a strange mare who had sauntered in and done nothing remarkable. She was nothing remarkable. She was an emotional being, and no matter the way she attempted to quell the flames, the embers always built up again. really told us a lot about Ki’irha in a short amount of words. I’m eager to see how this battle either unravels or strengthens her. Use those emotions/affects to each post! 

* Setting: You’ve already laid out the potential disadvantages of fighting on the sand/beach, so make sure you include them in each post. 

* Attacks: I thought your attacks worked well. There weren’t an overwhelming amount, and they seemed to be fitting for the spar/skirmish element. Of course, time will tell what this actually develops into, but you have made it easier on timing/pacing with only two attacks. ;D

To Work On:
* Directions: Make sure these are always clear. I had to go down to your summary to figure out where you were trying to hit Erebos from. This portion: She paused, facing him yet again. Her velvet-lined nostrils flared, dragging in a deep gulp of the salty air. Her haunches coiled and she sprang, each step acclimating her to the unusual turf as she heaved herself forward. Her neck arched then stretched, jaws opening then snapping shut, aiming to capture a bite of his dark tresses, or catch a harsh taste of his sleek neck. She braced her shoulder for impact as well, unsure of how she would meet him in their first passionate encounter. She had no doubts he would take her attack well - his sheer size and rigid muscles were armor for him, protecting him from her delicate physique. But even the smallest fly could be bothersome, and her intent was to pick away at him until weakness shone through. didn’t indicate anything except she was front on, and then coming at him left-to-left. Please always include these. ☺ It makes the mechanics of the fight much less confusing.

*Proof-reading: Though the post was very well written, I still noticed a couple little areas that were missing something:

she mused, looking up to blue eyes nestled an a sculpted and crowned head. in a sculpted and crowned head.

Either way, she would learn him today. - I think I knew what you were trying to grasp for with this sentence, but it still read awkwardly to me. She would learn of him today or she would learn from him today would make a little more sense to me.

I'm looking forward to seeing Ki'irha's reactions/emotions/attacks from this! <333

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#4

The taste of blood swept over her tongue, the sweetness springing forth as she dragged her teeth along his neck. As she continued forward, trajectory unhindered by his looming form, her heels met him as well. She harnessed the momentum, lunging away from the prince in uneven strides.

An ear twisted on its poll, catching the sound of gnashing jaws aiming for her right side. Eyes rolled, milky crescents vivid against stormy grey, as she looked back to see the kitsune reach for her. She sidled to the left, avoiding pearly white needles, but put herself right into the path of something much worse. Pain erupted upon her left thigh, rippling and burning across her stifle and flank. A haunting scream escaped her, harsh and shrill. The stench of burnt hair filled the air and her skin grew raw and angry. She nearly fell, her left leg refusing to act appropriately, and she slid to a clumsy halt as the unforgiving sand swallowed each step. "Bastard!" she coughed, half snarl and half sob. Nostrils flared, jaws clenched, and she blinked away the tears that brimmed at her lashes.

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 blue lurched forward, resuming her place in this game of cat and mouse. She knew she could be faster, if it weren't for the limp that marred every step, but still she managed to compensate. She reached for him, as he had reached for her, only she had no fire to summon or magic to harness that would sink teeth into his midnight hide. But she had her own jaws, and she already spilled his blood upon the sand. As she reached for his dock or left croup or anything she could grab onto, she hoped for a similar outcome. She knew well that it may also injure her, but she paid no attention in trying to avoid his rear hooves with her fronts. Perhaps she would catch a heel and trip him. She just needed to slow him down and try to even the playing field.

As much as she had no intentions of surrender, her leg was too much. She couldn't chase him or try to escape down the endless shore of the sea. With her leg throbbing as it was, she needed to change her tactic. As she slowed her pursuit, a light flickered on. It was a distant memory, a lesson her father had taught her on turning weakness to strength. A smiled pushed through her pain and concentration, and she stumbled to a halt.

She was not a soft, delicate flower. She was forged of steel and starlight. The star girl had been made weak by her recent distractions, as that was all the painted buck was, and she needed to come back to who she was. 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.

She had a strength that she knew he didn't. An advantage her stallion counterparts could never obtain, but many seemed to fall for effortlessly.

"Oh," she whimpered, clumsily trotting after him as the water beside her churned and rolled. "Erebos, this hurts." Her voice was strained, every fiber pulled taught by pain she couldn't take. Her left hoof hovered above the sand. She looked up towards him, tears welling in softened eyes. She nearly collapsed, throwing in the flourish for dramatic effect. "I can barely stand, that last chase was too much. Please, just wait."

She was a sitting duck lined with explosives. She appeared weak and vulnerable, and indeed she currently was, but she was also cunning. With her head lowered, legs slightly bent, tail flicking lazily, she appeared as though the weight of everything was too heavy a burden to bear. But she was not ready to crumble. She was coiled, ready to spring, a trap waiting to be triggered. Even if her trick failed, she was ready to face him. Even if her ploy was only enough to convince him to come to her, it will have been successful.

And if she failed, at least she was consistent.

__________________________
2/3 || WC 797 || Summary:: Ki'irha hears Orsino and tries to avoid the kitsune, instead putting herself right inline for Erebos' bite/fire magic, which causes moderate damage to her left stifle and flank. Chases after him, tries to bite his dock or left leg. Slows down, knowing her injury will hinder further chase, and tries to encourage (trick) him into pausing battle and coming back towards her so she doesn't have to chase him to attack him.

Ki'irha

@Erebos ~
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#5
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.]
Image Credit


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! ^__^

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#6

The blue limped forwards, face twisted in pain, the dramatic expression hiding her thrill. She believed she had deceived him. "Erebos," she whimpered again, shifting her weight side to side. The burn on her hindquarters still throbbed, and she was sure it would still remain to hinder her when she decided to drop her facade. She enjoyed her ploy, reveling in the sense of control. It was all she could do to escape the pain that swelled in her joints and muscle and sinew. The pain she could give concrete reasons for helped dull the ache in her psyche, which bothered her more than what she felt on a physical level. She forced herself to believe the hurt she felt in her soul wasn't real. It was an illusion. It was something she imagined, not something concrete.

All she was doing was lying to herself. She did hurt deeper than what touched her skin. Her heart was broken. She was beginning to feel as though she was failing as a corporal. Her father's words, that she was only worth her achievements on the battlefield, jaded the luster of her young heart. The only place she felt alive, felt uninhibited, felt free of her shackles, was upon the battlefield. Her victories were limited, and her teachings few. If she didn't make a difference here, did her presence even matter? But as she continued her injured bird routine, the blue didn't have time to consider her failures.

Silver eyes flicked up, brows furrowing as a smirk replaced her frown. "Erebos," she said again, but this time it was a sultry mix of sneer and purr.

Suddenly and all at once, she sprang. She bounded towards him, fore hooves heaving her forward until the space between them shrank. She bore the brunt of her weight on her right hind leg. But before she could make it, before she could bury herself into the buck, the teeth she had so narrowly avoided previously were buried into her lashing tail. The soldier had fallen victim to her cunning, but the kitsune knew better. The corporal may have been clever, but there was nothing more cunning in this world than a fox. But weren't those who were bonded able to communicate via a mental tie? How had the kitsune caught onto her deception while Erebos stood dumbly planted in his spot? Unless she had been duped and the prince knew the whole time, and he had simply allowed her to fall victim to her own trap.

A pained whinny burst from her lips and she kicked out, aiming for the blackened fox. It was instinct that spurred her to kick, the sudden defense mechanism not allowing her move to be quelled by thought. Otherwise she would have avoided such an attack, knowing a solid buck could kill the much smaller creature at her heels. Her tail hung limp behind her. As it dragged, the white of her tail grew slick and red, and the sand that was sprayed by her hind hooves became ground into the laceration. It was broken, that was for sure, and her balance would certainly suffer.

Still, perhaps she still retained some sense of surprise despite the hinderance the kitsune caused. The star girl gave one more solid push, throwing herself at her adversary. Her muscles braced for impact, especially her left shoulder, her back arching as she drove herself towards him. She swung her head to the left, teeth bared, trying to catch one more taste of him. Her bloodlust was not easily sated, and even thought this was a friendly spar, she wanted to leave a reminder on him, force herself to linger in his memory long after they went their separate ways and left the endless shore. The sand gave way beneath her hooves as she careened towards him, her weight unevenly distributed between the ache in her hind leg and the ground sliding from beneath her. She was sure he was having similar difficulty as she with the terrain; perhaps she could disrupt his balance.

As the fight began to wind down, the corporal could feel her endurance begin to waver. Her sides heaved with heavy breath, and the sweat that filmed over her starry hide mingled with the salted spray of the ocean air. The searing pain in her painfully crooked tail came in waves matching the tempo of those that washed the shore. A gull cried above them, and his song was swallowed by the crashing of the surf. The girl knew the end of their dance was approaching, and the impending finish seemed to conclude with the dying of the sun.

What a beautiful way for it to end.

3/3 || WC 784 || Summary:: Ki'irha continues her facade of playing weak and injured. She then lunges at him, but before she can make it to him, Orsino's bite lands on her tail, breaking the fragile bones and lacerating the skin. She's thrown off and distracted and kicked at Orsino, before resuming her path towards Erebos head-on. She shifts slightly to the right but straight at him, and attempts to bite the left side of the neck/withers/shoulders, and collide with him/slam her left shoulder into him/his chest.

Ki'irha


@Erebos
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#7
EREBOS
He was the decoy, listening to her whimper, to her plea, to her whisper through the burns and blemishes. How silly it all felt, how inept and ridiculous to be the one staring mutely along the horizon while Orsino conquered, while Orsino strategized, while Orsino led and unwound the fray.
 
Wasn’t the prince supposed to be the one with the power, strength, and ruses? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with schemes brimming, bristling, unraveling, and embarking across the earth in chaos, in mayhem?
 
Was he lesser, even now? Was he more inadequate than a wily fox? What was he accomplishing out here?
 
All he could do was watch, chained and rooted to the sand; a mere witness to what he’d sown, what he’d wrought, what he’d created. His ears flicked, ensnared all of her words, croons, and pretenses, sending them clattering through his skull – then his eyes widened as Orsino met his mark.
 
The sensation of triumph pervaded through him, but it wasn’t his own. It belonged to the kitsune, conniving and devious, sly and diabolical. The careening notions were eerie and overwhelming, greedy and malicious, a treacherous, unyielding motion into the fox’s psyche, bolstering, blooming, and brewing in a nefarious, demonic haze. The boy saw fire, saw death, saw desecration, saw ruin behind his lids and through his cranium; became drunk on the immorality, on the licentiousness.
 
It fueled him as Ki’irha kicked out against her agony. It incensed him as her hooves met his sable companion’s form, as the little beast screeched in keen, bitter agony. It kindled and pricked, toiled and churned, bloodied and hollowed out the core of his gallantry, of his virtues, of his ethics and heartfelt measures. It rolled over anything good, anything kind, and embraced the viciousness of his passion and ardor. He lost bits and pieces of himself to animosity, to terror, to iniquity (and it was sublime).
 
He didn’t care about control or composure. He didn’t care about what happened to her. He only thought of the black fox, mutiny, and sedition.
 
Even as Orsino rolled across the sand, smarting, wincing, limping along the dunes, the hatred built, the wrath pooled, the contempt boiled deep into the prince’s bones. It coiled amongst his heart and clenched there, stealing his breath and tainting his lungs, forcing him forward, onward, with naught on his features but a narrowed gaze and a clenched jaw.
 
He dragged his frame towards her; intended to meet her somewhere in the middle of their skirmish, a slow fury, an unwinding phantom, a glorified wraith haunting the horizon. His neck bled, his left shoulder ached, and he didn’t care.
 
The only thing propelling him at all was a dastardly, seductive vehemence – he’d been enticed, but not by her charades, not by her ploys and strategies. The temptation, the allure, the beguilement, was all in a staging of abhorrence (how dare she touch his companion, how dare she slink along the grounds and pretend to be something she wasn’t…).
 
Orsino, on the lines of sand, hissed in a feral spit of laughter. About time, kid.
 
But Erebos heard none of it. He was too consumed, too overwrought with the entanglement of blood and ferocity as she came at him, as she sought to obliterate one more time.
 
He was ready.
 
Ki’irha came straight towards him, carving her way over to his left, and he shifted to the right, intending to dodge her passing blow. Still slower, still plagued by sand, height differences, and residual pain, her teeth made a mark, clipping and clenching along the left side of his withers (but it wasn’t anything more than the numbing sensations he’d held before; a brief spark, one more addition to his injuries).
 
But as she maneuvered, as she motioned beside him, intending to collide, to crash, he wanted her to burn in the wake of his ire, in the torch and rubble of his soullessness. While she passed, he tried to turn back towards her, attempted to catch her left hindquarters with his teeth, reaching, reaching, reaching for the embers glistening across his skin and the devastation lingering in his ferocious caress.
 
More, Orsino said. More ruin, more bloodshed, more destruction.
 
The scion surged down deep within his core, and felt the crackle, the bite, the might of his fire, of his fury, surge to meet his vicious desires. His magic swelled, pulsed, pervaded until he was only a blaze, only brimstone, only an inferno, intending to drag her down into ashes, soot, and dust. All it would take was a chance, an opportunity, a touch to have her howling, bellowing, and whimpering all over again.



[3/3. 778 words.
* Ki’irha kicks Orsino, sending him over to the sidelines with a limp.
* As Ki’irha charges towards him, Erebos tries to dodge to the right. Her teeth manage to bite along the left side of his withers, leaving a little mark and sting.
* As she passes by, Erebos attempts to turn back towards her, hoping to catch his teeth on the left side of her hindquarters and bite hard, while using his fire magic again.
 
Final Injury Report:
* Bleeding laceration on the left side of his neck.
* Bruised left shoulder.
* Scrape/bite mark on the left side of his withers.
* Orsino is limping and smarting from Ki’irha’s kick.]

Image Credit

@Ki'irha

Teaching Notes:
 
What Went Well:
 
Emotions: Gah, Ki’irha. I feel like I know her so much better after this fight. Yaaas. This passage in particular: All she was doing was lying to herself. She did hurt deeper than what touched her skin. Her heart was broken. She was beginning to feel as though she was failing as a corporal. Her father's words, that she was only worth her achievements on the battlefield, jaded the luster of her young heart. The only place she felt alive, felt uninhibited, felt free of her shackles, was upon the battlefield. Her victories were limited, and her teachings few. If she didn't make a difference here, did her presence even matter? But as she continued her injured bird routine, the blue didn't have time to consider her failures. worked well because it kept playing to her weaknesses, her sentiments, all of the things this spar is bringing to fruition. I would have liked to see even more sprinkled throughout her movements and motions. Definitely include all of it in your final defense post.
 
Setting: I see you using that sand. ;D Great way to incorporate the surroundings in constantly, since the dunes would have a huge impact on their movement, speed, etc.
 
Pain: You’re constantly mentioning how prior attacks and assaults are affecting her. Right on! I really liked it towards the end: As the fight began to wind down, the corporal could feel her endurance begin to waver. Her sides heaved with heavy breath, and the sweat that filmed over her starry hide mingled with the salted spray of the ocean air. The searing pain in her painfully crooked tail came in waves matching the tempo of those that washed the shore. It showed and manifested how tired, winded, and brutal the fight has been, despite the early, friendly nature (whoops :D).
 
To Work On:
 
Clarity: There were some bits and pieces that confused me. For example:
 
But before she could make it, before she could bury herself into the buck, the teeth she had so narrowly avoided previously were buried into her lashing tail. Was she going to buck at him? Was she bucking at him? How could she before she actually got to him? I noticed you didn’t include it in your summary, so I didn’t use it in my post.
 
Damage Taking: Now, I thought portions of this were clever. Erebos rolled a 5, meaning you’d have to take a certain chunk of damage, and going for her massive tail seemed acceptable. However, I wouldn’t have left it broken. That would qualify as a 6 roll (or perhaps a critical hit), in my opinion, because of how severe the damage is, and how it can seriously impact her movement (ordinarily I wouldn’t say so, but noting the length and size of Ki’irha’s tail…I gotcha).
 
And we get this: It was broken, that was for sure, and her balance would certainly suffer.
 
But then, you don’t go on to explain how her balance suffered as she moved?  Would it have hindered her as she shifted towards Erebos?
 
Grammar: I’m still the nit-picky one. :P I know things slip by, but where grammar still counts for points, I really believe all fighting posts should be heavily edited/revised/read over and over again to ensure mistakes aren’t there. No excuses. ;D
 
Still, perhaps she still retained some sense of surprise despite the hinderance the kitsune caused. - Should be hindrance.
 
To Think About: You have your final defense post coming up, and here is where I usually sum up injuries, pain, and how my character feels about the overall performance. Was it their best? What happened to skew her one way or another? How about that tail? ;D
 
I really enjoyed writing this spar. Thank you so much for the opportunity! <33 Great job!

Time the Dice Queen Posts: 144
OOC Account atk: 50 | def: 50 | dam: 50
Mare :: Other :: 5'7 :: 22 HP: 5050 | Buff: DROPKICK
Time
#8
Ki'irha defaults to Erebos.
0.5 VP to Erebos. 0.5 VP to Erebos for teaching.


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture