the Rift


Promises

Misael Posts: 97
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 HH :: 7 years HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Lazarus :: Melanistic Lion :: None ShadowMare
#1


The chromed had a rising feeling in his chest, a desire to become strong, to embrace the power he knew he was capable of welding, capable of applying. His life had changed drastically since when he first arrived in the lands of Helovia.  The striped had grown, prospered, created family, and most importantly, the beast had faced himself and matured. He did not throw a pity party for the demons of his past, present, future, to only haunt him with their attendance. No, the chromed had accepted his failures, accepted that he was no man of portrait or statue. He would be that man one day; it was no aspiration, no goal, but merely truth. For Miseal knew that with effort, anything could be done.

Miseal traveled from the chilled winds of the north, he hoped that the events that conspired there would be left with the frozen icicles and howling drifts. It had been an eye-opening experience for the striped stallion, the result finalizing his previous desires to become of worth. It was no longer that he would mull over her, for all that time he spent thinking about the antlered girl was wasted, all for nothing. He knew that if this had happened months ago, he would have gone on a rage and expelled his wrath upon any that neared, but now, that wasn’t him any longer. Now, the chromed just shrugged it off. That was the thing about such risks of love; one cannot predict its outcomes. Perhaps what he thought they had wasn't even love at all, perhaps it was merely the lust of companionship, the lust to be anything but alone. For loneliness was a disease, and we all thirst for a cure that only companionship can quench.  

The chromed shakes away his thoughts, beckoning his gears to slow and his mind to focus on what was at hand. With the desire to become something, Miseal had to mentally grow and physically too. There were too many who were a much better warrior then himself, and Miseal simply could not have that. It would take time, that he was aware of, but eventually he will catch up with the great fighters of Helovia, even become a great fighter as well.

His chest expanded wide as he sucked in the chilled frostfall air, inhaling all the crispness of winter mixed with the sandy dust of dunes. He let his golden gaze analyze the battlefield, for knowledge of your surroundings is a key component in winning anything. The ground was soft and maneuverable, the grains of the Dragon's Throat unaffected by the bite of Jack Frost. The only remnant of cold was in the air, a chilled wind fought against the Sun's bright and warm cast. It was quite actually a very nice and mild day, a good day to take advantage of, and that he would.

Signing, the beast prepared for his first spar, he held little expectations, for little expectations made losses less sour and rewards much sweeter. He did however, have an endless supply of determination. He wanted to win not only to be of proof to others, but most importantly, Miseal wanted to win for himself.

talk talk talk


WC: 533/800
A: 0/3
D: 0/1
Damage Sustained:
Setting: Just outside of DT, sun is shining, cold wind, and on sand. About mid-day.
Notes: Open for anyone, you can have first attack. Please do not spar with Miseal if there is a massive HP difference, I want this to be as fair as possible <3



M I S A E L

A storm is coming,
and it is conjured by my hand

image credits

Grimalkin Posts: 50
Outcast atk: 3.5 | def: 7 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: 4 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Whit
#2
Grimalkin knew something of desire to prove one's worth.

The stallion had spent too much time away from his responsibilities. He had left the Aurora Basin seasons ago, with intentions of returning - Frostfall had well and truly set in now, and he was less than inclined to brave the deep drifts that would bar his way 'home'. A poor excuse, he admitted to himself, knowing he was clutching at useless, meaningless facts and trying to pass them off as worthy reasons for his continued absence. The titan was a failure, a ruin, a pitiful excuse for a 'loyalist' - he left to prove himself, and he could not return until he had done just that.

So far, he had failed at that too. It had taken weeks for the stiffness in his bones and the scabs on his body to heal over from his scuffle with that dark brute and his dragons on the beach. The only thing Grimalkin had learned from that interaction was that he needed to be better. It was an appalling slap in the face to learn just how inadequate he was - he could never return home with the knowledge of such a defeat against his name. He had no new skills, no magic or dazzling items to show for his efforts abroad - he was useless, plain - he had to do something about it.

So he did. He had just left the World's Edge, after so casually being invited across their borders and given a tour of their luscious lands. But, he was not inclined to ever call it home - despite the invitation - and he had had intentions to turning North as he departed their misty halls. As it was, he turned south, seeking warmer climes and perhaps a rematch with the behemoth he had met on the shores of the Endless Blue. It was not a stormy midnight this time - it was a clear, almost perfect day. Sunlight shone, a cool breeze ensured sweat did not linger long on one's hide - Grimalkin found himself walking further and further south, missing the Endless Blue entirely and coming to a place far more interesting.

The Dragon's Throat? He had heard it in passing, he remembered its mention at the herd meeting he attended (a million years ago). Was this the famous southern land accessible only to those with wings? Emerald eyes looked over the salty waves that separated Helovia from the island home, filled with a strange sense of longing, though what for, the stallion could not have told you.

A distraction came to his attention then.

He was tall, striking with vivid blue stripes down his hide, and antlers besides. The chocolate steed smiled to himself - another opponent perhaps? It was hard to pick - Grimalkin wasn't the sort to just pick a fight with any old lad who happened to walk by - they had to want it, to desire it as much as he did, else there was little challenge in it for him, little to gain from it. No, there had to be stakes of some kind, even if those stakes was pride and power (and bragging rights).

"Hail, sir," clipped, Russian tones called to the brute, as emerald eyes battled to swallow the sight of him in one fell swoop - an attempt to deliver to Grimalkin all the information he would need to best such a foe in physical combat. A smirk, devious and unhidden, played upon the chocolate one's maw, as he turned his bulk towards the steed and tilted his hefty, generously antlered crown in question. "Care to test your mettle?"

He didn't wait for a vocalised reply.

Grimalkin pushed himself into a canter, bulging muscles tensing as they encouraged the motion from his bulky limbs. The sand was dry beneath his feathered feet, and he was glad for that, for he had fought in wet sand before and found it most annoying to lug around half the beach in one's socks while trying to beat another's skull in. As it was, the stallion attempted to line himself up with Misael, head-on, and he wanted to approach him fast and hard - his skull lowered to reveal sharpened tines, his hooves beat a heavy rhythm into the shallow, loose sand below. He felt like a juggernaut, where once set into motion only a great force could slow him down. Ideally, he wanted to slap the brunt of his antlers against his fellow titan's chest, slightly to the right to allow his juggernaut's path to continue on uninterrupted past the other if Misael should be proactive enough to dodge the giant hurtling towards him.

[[ 779 words.
1/3 attack.
0/1 closing defence.
They have the same HP and similar stats so I hope it's ok??
Let me know if you would like a teaching spar? C:
@Misael ]]
colourize-stock & larfsalot @deviantart

please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:


Misael Posts: 97
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 HH :: 7 years HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Lazarus :: Melanistic Lion :: None ShadowMare
#3


He did not have to wait long, for across the way, another man stood. There is a moment of contemplation, both being sure that their intents were not crossed. After it’s made apparent that this is to be a friendly spar, Miseal allowed a dip of his ibex crown, "Pleasure, best of luck to you." He then lets his golden eyes blaze their path down the skin of the brown moose man. He is tall, but Miseal is taller and he would be sure to use that against him. It occurs to Miseal as he thinks of how to best the Moose, that such thoughts had never risen before. The chromed may believe he contained a matured mindset, but his inexperience in warfare was quite obvious to him now. He had never once fought before, there had been times that he had wanted to destroy in battle, but this had resulted from rage not desire. A certain antlered palomino came to mind at the idea of war, and there is a flicker of frustration that ignites in his barrel, but he quickly engulfs that flame, he had moved on(or so he hopes.) The beast would not allow his mind to trip over the thought of Enna and Rohan another second, for he had his own family, and the cream and brown antlered equines were of no worth to him any longer.

Focusing on the event at hand, he resumed his physical analyzing of Moose. He would have to watch out for those antlers, but Miseal felt confident that this man was going to be a good competitor. They both shared muscle mass, his Belgian lines to be the blame, but after that they shared little.  Miseal takes a breath, lets his mind calm and relax before the spar. He reflected on his life in those quick seconds, and there was a sense of pride that enveloped him. Despite the odds that had once been so heavily stacked behind him, he had persevered through the barriers of amnesia, and prevailed. That alone was something to be proud of, but he was more so grateful for the man he had become. Miseal used to be so reckless, so careless with his life, so only obsessed and worried about himself. He was shallow, and as he reflects on such a man that he had been, he is appalled, embarrassed even that he had gotten away with it. How had no one not beat the shit of him? He wondered, for if he met a man like that and was given the chance, he would surely beat the hell out of him. And here he was at the battlefield, ready to learn and gain the experience to do so.

Now, Miseal believed that there was more complexity to his character, and he hoped that others believed so too. The striped stallion would never admit it, but deep down inside, he was insecure in his thoughts and searched for approval of his actions. Maybe that explained the atrocity of a man he once was. He was just a young boy tossed into a world without the teachings of parents, without a mentor to guide him, and that world he was so harshly thrown into taught him in the ways of vanity and caring for no one but yourself.

His thoughts quickly began to dissipate as Moose spoke, his skin taunt over tensed muscles. His sun’s narrowed as he tried to predict the Moose’s intentions, his hoofs light and prepared to dance the dance of battle. The brown man looked massive in his approach, all thundering muscle and desire to be victorious. Moose would be met with a battle alright, for Miseal wanted this desperately. He needed it. His body then begins to craft his defense, craft his offense, and silence his mind. He is now completely and wholly blurred from reality and engaged in the art of war. Miseal's mass is lifted into the air, his hind legs carrying his weight as he rears. He uses the power in his thick neck and ibex horns and with his head tucked in, he swings his neck down as he lands, intending to clash with Moose's rack. Considering that the might of those sharp horns are better to defend against rather then the original impact of body to body. He stops the direct impact, but as the moose roars past he suffers from the trail of his antlers, his neck and shoulder warmed by the seepage of blood.

With little time to craft his attack, he lifts his front hooves into the air and attempts to send the weight of his chest and front legs down upon Moose's back/hips as he passed, Miseal’s teeth blindly lashing out to try and bite his body. Yes, the spar had begun.





talk talk talk

WC: 800/800
A: 1/3
D: 0/1
Damage Sustained: Grim’s antlers cut open his skin on his neck and shoulder,
Setting: Just outside of DT, sun is shining, cold wind, and on sand. About mid-day.
Notes: Yes please! I’d love a teaching spar!



M I S A E L

A storm is coming,
and it is conjured by my hand

image credits

Grimalkin Posts: 50
Outcast atk: 3.5 | def: 7 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: 4 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
Whit
#4
There was a certain level of mindlessness one had to enter to throw your body at another's in the hopes of proving.. what? It wasn't something the chocolate steed wanted to spend too much time mulling over as he hurtled with reasonable pace across the sands towards this taller, striped foe. The chocolate steed didn't hold back - he was not one to enter into any challenge, friendly or not, with intentions of taking it easy, or holding back, to spar the feelings of his opponent. No, Grimalkin was the sort of stallion who gave such events everything: his entire focus, his strength, his determination. And he expected nothing less of his opponents - perhaps that was why he was beat last time; it was also why he would not allow himself to be beaten again.

Stripes, the thought appeared in his mind, as his antlers met flesh and added some red streaks to his foe's already streaked, striped appearance. I'll call you Stripes, he grinned as flecks of blood dripped from his many points and spattered upon his own chiselled features. Perhaps it was too much for a friendly spar; too much bloodlust, too much desire to crush, kill, destroy his enemy, too much effort put into what should be just an exchange of blows, a demonstration of strength and aptitude. To Grimalkin, if he had delivered anything less, it would have been too little - it was better for him to go the other way, to deliver too much, and be awarded the victory because of it. The chocolate behemoth was not fond of leaving things up to chance; he would much rather secure a victory for certain, even if it meant bending the rules of exactly what friendly meant. He was beyond caring what Stripes thought however - he only wanted to win.

Because to win would mean he could go home. To win would mean he was worthy, he was strong. To win here would help set him up to win elsewhere, to rise victorious on everything he strived towards - he simply would not allow chance to steal this victory away from him. The stakes were too high, set by his own pride, his ego, and to lose now -- he would not consider it a possibility.

He must have been travelling fast, or else his attack against Stripes was powerful enough to allow him to slip through most of the taller steed's counterattack. Grimalkin felt hooves and teeth clatter against his retreating bulk; the hooves seemed to glance off as his movement carried him on and on, the teeth scraped and took some hair with it, but the fleeting grip was not enough to draw blood or break the taut skin of Grimalkin's barrel. The titan continued heaving forward, dipping his great crown low, tilting it so that he could glance to his left, around his own feathered limbs and assess where Misael's bulky, bleeding chest was. Lowering his crown also acted as a counterweight to his follow-up motion; a great, powerful kick with both feathered hind limbs, aimed directly at that striped, bleeding flesh. The motion reminded him of the bite Stripes had awarded him before, it twinged and ached as the skin stretched and the muscles flexed, but he powered on, too committed to restrain his intentions now. Perhaps it was rather morbid of the chocolate steed to want to bathe his hardened hooves in the blood of his enemy - Grimalkin saw it as simply a by-product of his victory, something that could not be avoided, something that simply was (and something he found he might actually enjoy).

Sand would inevitably be carried with his motion, its dryness a stark contrast to the last time he had pounded such battle rhythms on a beach. That sand had been heavy, wet; this sand was malleable, dusty, irritating in its own way. As his crown bowed low to it, he had to be careful not to breathe it in, or blink it into his eyes. He soon gathered his limbs beneath him again, pressing onwards another stride, raising his crown to a more neutral position, ready for what was to come next. Come on, Stripes, he thought to himself as he tried to hold his opponent in his sights, and assess what his next move would be.
colourize-stock & larfsalot @deviantart



723 words.
2/3 attack posts.
0/1 closing defence.



WELCOME TO WHIT'S TEACHING TIPS OF DOOM

OK, so I'm going to just go ahead and explain EVERYTHING (that I can) - not because I assume you are Jon Snow and know nothing, but just to be sure there is no confusion anywhere across any aspect of spars ;D

First simple things to remember:
Word count. Do not go over it. Keeping below the 800 word count is an easy way to keep all possible HP. There is a penalty for each post that you post that exceeds the word count.

I pasted your post into a MS Word Doc and it said it was 801 words - this isn't good news, and it will depend on what wordcounter the Judges uses as to whether you get penalised here.

To effectively cut down words: Be concise with your writing. Can you say in one word what you just said in three? Be brutal when you cull. If the sentence is superfluous, CUT IT OUT. In saying that, if you have words left over, consider whether you need to flesh your post out some more. Add more details into your attacks, add some more feelings, more thoughts, more consideration for your environment (will go into all this more as the fight progresses).

Post numbering. I posted the first attack of the thread - this is the first one that a Judge will read. Our thread will progress like this:
1/3 attack - Me.
1/3 attack - You.
2/3 attack - Me.
2/3 attack - You.
3/3 attack - Me.
3/3 attack - You.
1/1 closing defence - Me.
You don't do a closing defence because I did the first attack - and in that first attack post I don't have an opportunity to defend from any attacks, because you haven't made one yet.

Familiarise yourself with the battle rubric. This is what you are being judged with. We are judged on the same things as far as the content of our posts go, with the added Dice Rolling, to make our HP honest. I'll go further into judging your post using this rubric below.

Interpreting the dice can be tricky, but Tamme put up a really good explanation in the Q&A thread:
The dice roll of 1-6 is always to keep the damage scaled, but the extent of that damage does vary with your opponent's damage stat, hence why greater damage stat means more HP is lost. You consider your opponent's damage stat and the value of the dice roll, but you do not need to add numbers or do percentages or anything like that, just consider that although a bruise (damage roll 1) is still a bruise, it can hurt more depending on who gave it to you.
If a 5 year old girl punches you, you arm is bruised, and it kinda hurts, like a damage roll of 1.
If a buff marine soldier punches you, you arm is bruised, and it really hurts. Just because he's a soldier doesn't mean you arm suddenly pops off, but the bruising will probably be more extensive, deeper, wider, more immediately tender. Still a damage roll of 1, still a bruise, but more damaging.
If a 5 year old girl hits you with a crowbar, your arm is maybe dislocated or utterly unusable, a damage roll of 6.
If a buff marine soldier hits you with a crowbar, your arm is probably broken, a damage roll of 6.


Now I'll go into the format a Judge would use:
Realism:
This is where judges will look at how accurately you interpreted the dice roll given, through how your character dodges/doesn't dodge, or takes damage.
I think the you need to keep in mind the pace of the fight - the time between Grimalkin's first hello words, and then his declaration of a fight, are very close together. Grim launches straight into his attack, and there is only one attack here - he's trying to head-ram Misael with his antlers, I think you've taken it as 2 separate attacks? Obviously I need to make my own posts a bit clearer - I'll keep that in mind, but don't ever hesitate to ask a question OOC if you're not sure.
Having your char rear up in the face of a body-slam is risky too - realistically if a heavy-set char like Grim was coming at you and you went up on 2 legs, no matter how tall or strong you are, you would likely lose some balance and risk falling over.
In saying that, you had Misael take Grim's antlers full on, which fits the 5 damage you rolled. Now you have to consider - how will this attack affect everything else Misael does? Being a 5 damage, Grim's drawn blood, think about how much that is going to be hurting him. Have you ever cut yourself on something, even just scraped your knee as a kid? It HURTS, you don't want to move. It's going to make you feel stiff and sore - so having Misael rear up high enough and fast enough to try and smash down on Grim straight after isn't the most realistic path you could take. It's going to hurt a lot, and also affect how well he's using his leg - think about it, if you had a cut on your shoulder, how much would you want to be using your hands? I'd wager that Misael is feeling the pain aching all down his legs, chest and shoulder from that hit, so be sure to keep that in mind when you make your next posts.
Also, be specific on which side of Grim's body you're attacking. As I specified that Grim would dart to the right (Misael's left), it's safe for me to assume that Misael is aiming for Grim's left side most, as that would realistically be the nearest side. Always try to have a specific aim for your attacks!
Also, no mention of your environment here. Always make note of where they are - currently on sand, will flecks of sand be stirred up and maybe make his cuts sting more during the fight? Will the cool breeze help or hinder you (or make no difference at all)? Try and be creative in your use of the environment, but keep it realistic too!

Emotion:
This is basically where you want to have your judges so captivated, so involved with your character, that they feel what your character is feeling.
Misael is a huge bag of feels! I can get that he is driven by his desire to prove himself as better than what he was previously, and better than his past opponents. Just don't get too confused between telling us about Misael's history and telling us WHY Misael is here now, WHY he feels the way he feels - captivate us. When Misael sees a great moose like Grim, what does he think? You've got that he assessed Grim's size, but how will that affect how Misael takes the rest of the fight? You've noted his antlers as something to watch out for, but there is little emotional reaction when Grim actually aims for Misael with those antlers - I would have liked to see Misael go "The Moose's great antlers point right at him - he was about to learn just how formidable they were first hand" as a sort of follow-on to Misael's earlier assessment.

Prose:
Grammar, writing style, etc, is judged here. As I mentioned above, your post count went to 801 when I checked it, this will be considered in the final judgement and may affect your final HP.
One thing I notice throughout your post is you switch tenses a bit. For example, your first opening sentence:
"He did not have to wait long, for across the way, another man stood." is in past tense, but the very next sentence, "There is a moment of contemplation, both being sure that their intents were not crossed." is in present tense. Try to be consistent with your writing so that you develop that nice flow, that easy story-telling sort of voice.
No misspelling of words (that I can pick up on anyway lol), which is fantastic, I can tell you went through your post with a fine-tooth comb in that regard.
It took me a couple of reads to understand this sentence: "His sun’s narrowed.." - I know that you mean his eyes, but I almost thought you had summoned sun-magic or something - be careful here, make sure you refer to his eyes clearly before referring to them as suns. Also, no apostrophe needed after suns in this particular sentence.
I really like the way you clearly define whether you are talking about Grimalkin or Misael throughout your post, because some people struggle with using 'he did this, he did that" and flipping between meaning their own character or their opponent - keep this up, ensure it is really clear throughout your whole spar, and you'll win yourself more points.
I feel like maybe you spent too much of your post telling us all about Misael and only allowed yourself a few words to construct both a defence and an attack. Especially because the opening sentence to your second paragraph said you were going to focus on the 'event at hand', then you went into more detail about who Misael is. Don't get me wrong, we want to know that stuff, but try to work it into the overall flow of the post a bit better. I do feel that your 3rd paragraph was a bit superfluous, and could have been cut out (maybe worked into your next reply somewhere), to give yourself a few more words to construct attack/defence reactions.

Readability:
This is judged separate to prose as some writers have a certain style (mine would be endless run-on sentences lol), if they can make it really work for them, it doesn't disrupt the way the reader interprets or reads through the post. If a judge has to read through a post more than once they generally will start knocking points or half-points off here, because remember - judges have to read each post of the spar, at least 7 of them, that's a fair chunk of reading. You want to make it as smooth a process as possible for them! I find reading posts out loud (sounds silly but it does help!) really helps me score more points here.
As I said above, you switched tenses a fair bit, which made the overall flow of the post a bit hard to track (I had to re-read a couple of sentences to wrap my head around what you were trying to say). Some of the imagery you were trying to convey was a bit awkwardly worded, I'll see if I can find an example of what I mean:
"A certain antlered palomino came to mind at the idea of war, and there is a flicker of frustration that ignites in his barrel, but he quickly engulfs that flame, he had moved on(or so he hopes.)"
Could be reworded to:
"Memories of past foes sprung to his mind at his ponderings of war, and frustration sparks like a newborn fire within him - he snuffs it out swiftly though, to focus on the present battle."


A great post overall - sorry for the really long set of notes, but I wanted to cover everything that I could see. Please don't hesitate to poke me on Skype or PM me if I've confused you here, or you want help with ideas on reacting to Grim's newest attack. I recommend youtubing horses playing and fighting and appreciating the sort of pace and movement they have. We're only talking about a minute or three here, tops, so while our chars will have thoughts and emotions, we must also appreciate the speed at which our actions will occur, etc. Happy sparring!

@Misael

please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:


Misael Posts: 97
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 HH :: 7 years HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Lazarus :: Melanistic Lion :: None ShadowMare
#5


There is a moment, a quick moment as Miseal's body goes slamming down to the ground after his attack, that he sees, he realizes, what he had really gotten himself into. He had been cocky, very cocky with his attack, and it had awarded him little. There was a hunger that arose in his chest then, one he had not known until now, had not ever wanted to know. A lust such as this, it was dangerous, powerfully boosting and crazily driving; a bloodlust. Miseal was not this type of man, he was not hungry for the satisfaction of pain, but it appeared as battle changed many; it changed him. His lips rose into a snarl and his ears pinned treacherously back, golden eyes narrowed as he watched Moose go flying by. A new desire had gripped Miseal, it wasn’t merely one that wanted to win anymore, no. It was the pure and haunting necessity to completely destroy.

Miseal caught the Moose's eyes as he turned his antlered head left, a twisted and wild smile melted onto Miseal's azure lips. He quickly formulated and idea of Moose's next attack as his brown and white face dipped low, knowing that the man's massive flat hooves paired with the power in his back legs was surely about to be of use and the force of such movements was enough to break bones. He had predicted this before their spar, and he was going to be extremely thorough not  to let the mighty mix of muscle and mass of Moose touch him.

The sand swirls around the pair of massive, towering beasts in thick, chocking dusts, his breaths full of the dry, grainy material. The chromed side stepped to his right, swiftly avoiding Moose's attack that had proved his prior ideas. The pain of Moose's previous attack ebbed into his thoughts as he dodged the second attack, Miseal's blood had continued to seep achingly from his cuts, his neck and shoulder beginning to feel the strains of bruising and stiffness. The cool breeze allowed a bit of relief for his feverish and sweaty skin, but with it sand was carried and the constant bite of the Throat's ground was no pleasantry. The heat of the Dragon’s breath really burned today.

Miseal did his best to block away the incoming thought of Enna's antlers piercing his chest that bled yet again from the same source, those antlers that he meant to be wary of, the cause of such unwanted memories and pains. It appeared that the woman kept popping up in his mind, no matter how hard the striped just wanted to forget her, her trace was reminded in almost everything he did.

With a grunt, he shook his mighty head, muscles coiling and springing into life as he put to use the raging ambition to take down the Moose. His mind dulled out all the thoughts of her, all the thoughts of his past pain and his present pain, wanting no longer to let anything distract him. He had said it before yes, but now he would take it much more seriously. He had no other choice.

Miseal’s thundering body galloped to catch up with Moose's stride, the determination acting as a numbing drug, his pain the last of his thoughts. Miseal's golden hooves dug into the sinking sands, using the depth and shifting material as an anchor for his next attack. He was careful not to use his left shoulder and neck too much, for it fucking hurt. He wouldn't let that stop him though, for Miseal was steel and Moose was merely wood, and he wholly intended to make that wood snap. Oh how the sound of such actions would delight him, and even more so if the cause was to be his hand.

The beast had been released.

Moose would need that luck Miseal had given him earlier, for this was no petty cat he had unlocked, this was a beast colored in stripes and painted in a lust for the blood of his freer. With the ferocity that had entranced him, Miseal neared Moose's left, his neck poked out and teeth bared. He aimed to use the force of his height, unhindered right shoulder, and the swing of his neck to crash into Moose's left hip and legs, hoping to throw Moose off balance as Miseal threw his body force right and desirably into Moose. Miseal could feel his skin burn and stretch as he attempted his attack, but he would not, could not, let it stop him. So with vicious, flesh hungry teeth, Miseal also seeks to latch onto Moose's ass, specifically the supple skin of his flank or stifle, wanting to rip and tear anything he could.

How terribly beautiful, Miseal had turned to an absolute monster.


talk talk talk

WC: 800/800
A: 2/3
Damage Sustained: Grim’s antlers cut open his skin on his neck and shoulder,
Setting: Just outside of DT, sun is shining, cold wind, and on sand. About mid-day.
Notes: wow thank you! I hope you see improvement here! Also that's a real bummer about the WC I had no idea as that was what my docs read, maybe I messed up with the copy paste -sigh-



M I S A E L

A storm is coming,
and it is conjured by my hand

image credits

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#6
Grim defaults to Misael.
Misael earns 0.5 VP.


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