the Rift


raise hell and turn it up [vol vs orithia]

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#1


The shadows caress each rugged muscle of the beast as he prowls through the dense foliage, his colossal hooves a drumbeat on the snow-dusted ground. Thorns snag and rip at his skin and roots seem to reach upwards in their attempts to trip him, but he hardly notices. He is still so god damn numb, his mind crippled, his emotions hidden behind a steel wall of nothingness. He wants only to forget - he has become animal, driven by perfunctory desires and monstrous instincts.

He craves women beneath him, and blood on his hooves.

The part of the monolith that remains rational and untouched by Isopia-woe points out that the latter urge is the one he should focus on. He will recover from this, one day, and when he does he will lament the days and weeks he lost in the depths of melancholy. Days and weeks he could have spent training, fighting, growing ever stronger. If he is to suffer the agony of loss, then he may as well channel it into something useful, not the creation of yet another bastard child. Because nature is a whore and will punish any and all conquests by commanding his seed to quicken in the womb of the mares he takes - it is known. Although his virility pleases him, it also means that fornication would be...ill-advised at this moment in time.

But fighting? Fighting he can do without fear of consequences. Fighting will allow him to forget for a few blessed moments, and will ensure his body remains strong, his battle-instincts honed like weapons. He comes to the Deep Forest because he has never fought in a place like this before, where the trees stand huddled together like gossiping fillies, the space between them ill-suited for a giant like him. Fighting in such close quarters will be difficult - but he wants this to be a struggle. If it is easy, it will not satisfy him, and will not keep  him from his misery for long.

The leviathan slows between the trees, his feet crunching on a few sparse patches of snow. The foliage above is so dense it protects the ground from most snowfall, so the forest floor is largely free of it. His dragons perch on nearby tree branches, glimmering like deadly gems, and they add their voices to his own as he trumpets a call for an opponent.

________

Teaching spar for @Orithia !

Set in the Deep Forest at night, between dense trees with a light snow on the ground. You decide whether magic and companions are allowed or not :D

0/3 - words

V O L T E R R A - V É R Z É S - V A D I R
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR
image credits

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#2
ORITHIA


The light crusting of snow crunched beneath her hoof falls as the moon watched, the frigid mistress cool and composed upon her shadowy pedestal. The stars gazed down at the pale mare balefully, pin pricks of light like so many forgotten gods as clouds slid over the sky's visage. There was nothing kind about this night, there was nothing peaceful about the silence that crept along the spines of strangers.

Not that she minded.

She was a pale ghost wreathed in mists, a wraith painted upon a silver edged dreamscape; and she would admit, she reveled in the haunting feel of her surroundings. In fact, one could even say the winged serpent was enjoying herself. There was a dark chuckle that came rumbling up from her chest and sprouted from parted coral lips. Those self same lips had twisted upward into a crude caricature of glee as the woman continued her midnight stroll; how far she had come from the pleasure houses of her birth and how terrified the denizens of that sanded city must be to know that one day they would see her once more.

How she craved the tang of blood and the pull of muscle.

It had been several long weeks since her Elephant King and she had thrown themselves at one another. They had been a pair of banshees rippling in and out of the past as they battled both one another and the demons that had made homes of their minds. Another chuckle snaked out and into the chilled air as she toyed with the thought of being nothing more than a haunted house; something empty and volatile that was only standing due to the courtesy of whatever cruel entity deigned to occupy it.

Aesthetic.

Yet her thoughts were interrupted by a deafening bellow not even two wingspans to her left. Ears tilting to the side while her wings tightened against her ribs, Orithia caught the scent of a stallion and felt her lips twist into a smirk at the delightful timing. Moving toward what she could now see was a behemoth made of black and white skin, the mare let her hips sway freely, invitingly. Molding her countenance into one of demure interest, the ivory rose puckered her lips and tucked away her thorns.

If only for the moment.

"Why, what treasure have I stumbled across? Can Frostfall truly be so kind?" Her voice was a honeyed purr, a delectable and tantalizing mix of allure and anonymity as she sidled up to the stranger's well-muscled left side. Pressing the length of her body against his, the mare stretched up to where her lips brushed a shadowed cheek, "Was it me you were calling for, darling? Was it my name you want on your lips?"

The moment the last syllable fell from her tongue, the mare lunged, her jaws reaching for the stallion's jugular without so much as a thought for caution.

Half-assed foreplay just wasn't her goal tonight.


Attack; 1/3
Words; < 800
Summary; she flirts and lunged for his throat with her lil teefers

@Volterra you can use vadir and verzes, sure! and yeah, whatever, throw all the magic at me ^.^
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#3


Mare. The reek of mare rips through the forest, and the stallion's greedy gaze immediately begins to hunt.

Despite his promise to avoid fornication, he cannot help himself. His reaction is a primal one, beckoned by the filthy, sordid darkness that lurks within his soul and drives him to seek the hedonistic pleasures of the flesh. His lips twist into a hideous smile as he embraces his desire, the desire that got him into this mess in the first place, the desire he simply cannot quell. In his numb state, he cares not. He only knows the reek, the heady stench of woman, and his massive head swings side to side as he hunts for her. Moisture beads across his fur, and his loins begin to quiver.

She glides between the trees; a wraith, a forest beauty. A deep, throaty growl rips unbidden from his jaws as she stalks closer, leans coquettishly against him, presses her nubile flesh to his own sweaty, heaving hide. Her lips lift, pressing against his cheek, whispering sweet nothings into it; he hardly notices her words, he only notices her. She is intoxicating, her body perfectly sculpted to appeal to his discerning eye; suddenly, fighting is the last thing on his mind.

Only his dragons save him from a swift, humiliating defeat. They lean from their branches, hissing and spitting at the woman, the curvy, salacious whore who caresses their bonded and ensnares his simple, simple brain. They are his mind, when his body is occupied with her; they point out that something is amiss, that he called for a fight and he may be about to get one. He is loathe to believe them, when a fuck seems on the cards, but his remaining sanity tells him to shift just a fraction to the right and away from her.

Just in time. She strikes, and only the prior warning of his dragons saves him.

Not fully, however. Her teeth rasp against the left side of his thick, muscular neck, creating a small and largely unremarkable bruise akin to an insect bite. Nonetheless, the sudden stinging pain of the injury jerks him back to his senses, and his lust abandons him as quickly as it rose.

Now, when he looks at her, he sees not a stunning, curvaceous mare; he sees an enemy. A sneaky, devious - and clearly intelligent - foe who must be conquered. She is a hand smaller than him, and her build appears geared towards speed and agility rather than strength. That may benefit her in this tight, cramped environment, where Volterra's own colossal size is a distinct - if intended - disadvantage. She has wings, too, and his excitement suddenly soars - he has never fought a pegasus before, and the experience of it will be invaluable. But, he reasons, she may not be able to use her wings amongst the close-knit trees, although they still pose a threat as potential smacking weapons.

The brute flashes his opponent a dark, dangerous smile; it is a relief for him to feel something, and the savage pleasure about the devilishness of his opponent is certainly something.

But if the delicious harlot thinks her devious tactics will stop him retaliating, then she's in for a brutal surprise.

In the limited space available, the behemoth cannot manoeuvre in order to alter their positions; he's forced to work with their current ones, where they're parallel with his left side to her right side. Using the small amount of space he does have, courtesy of his rightwards step earlier, Volterra throws his forequarters to the left; he aims to slam his left shoulder into her smaller, weaker right shoulder, using every ounce of his formidable strength and power. He hopes to barge her to her left, perhaps even unbalance her - simultaneously, his hungry jaws aim to nip at her tender neck just behind her right cheek, where her flesh just begs for his attention. He does not bother attempting a grip - he simply hopes to bite and bruise, to dominate her with a stallion's primal urge to nip their women.

Normally, he forbids his dragons to help him in spars against women. But Vérzés, his own blood pounding through the heightened emotions of his bonded, abandons his branch and swoops. He is silent, a crimson angel from the heavens, death on leathery wings; the forest is where he hunts, where he is at home. He aims for the left side of the mare's rump, and attempts to sink his teeth and foreclaws into the rounded area. He hopes to make her bleed, to ooze like prey.

Vadir stays where she is, a cold, silent sentinel, content to observe her brothers at work...for now.

________

Teaching spar for @Orithia !

1/3 - 789 words

V O L T E R R A - V É R Z É S - V A D I R
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR
image credits


Teaching notes:

Spelling/grammar - Overall it was really good! I only noticed one error ('pin pricks of light' - 'Pinpricks' is one word) so that's a really good sign that you proof-read your post. Your writing style is beautiful and descriptive, so I can definitely see you scoring highly in the prose/readibility sections. Right away that's a few easy points you'll earn in the judging rubric, so keep up the good work! I always say that proof-reading your posts and removing spelling/grammar errors is the easiest way to rack up points in the judging rubric, so it's great to see you're already doing that.

Emotion - First posts in fights can be tough to pump emotion into, but I felt you did a good job here. I got a definite feeling of Orithia and her motives, and especially her flirtatious nature! I particularly loved how she got her flirt on before she attacked, using her talents to her advantage. She's an interesting character to read, and I'm looking forward to reading her other posts in this fight :D So regarding your overall writing, you're already doing a really good job - it's only the more technical 'fighty bits' that you can work on (see below).

Attacks - I loved the idea behind the attack - having her get her flirt on to lull him into a false sense of security before she attacks is, as I said above, a great idea. However, there's just a few things that could be improved.

Firstly, there's a minor GM/PP - 'the mare lunged, her jaws reaching for the stallion's jugular without so much as a thought for caution.' This should have a mention of attempt, as otherwise it can seem like it definitely hits, which the judge may deduct for. It's always the defending character who decides if the attack hits and, if so, how much damage they take. Those attempt words can look ugly, but it's always best to get them in to remove any possibility of you being pulled up for GM/PP!

Secondly, the attack itself could do with some refining. Where abouts on his jugular is she aiming? It's always best to specify the exact region - top, bottom, right, left. If she's on his left side, it'd be hard for her to really reach his jugular vein, especially bearing in mind his superior size. There is the vein, so if this is what she's aiming for then realistically she'd have to move forwards and turn her head to the right, rather than just attacking from where she's standing. Also, given her blunt horse teeth, it'd be hard for her to gain any sort of grip on that area, so I'd have liked to see more description about what she's actually trying to do with her attack.

So you had the main basis of a good attack down, but you could just have specified a little bit more to make sure the attack is crystal clear in the eye of the judge :)

Damage taken - N/A

Other - Overall, this is a good fight post. Just be careful of some more minor PP: ' as she sidled up to the stranger's well-muscled left side' 'Pressing the length of her body against his,' and ' the mare stretched up to where her lips brushed a shadowed cheek' should all have mentions of 'attempt/tried/aimed' etc, as it's always up to the other character if your character succeeds in touching them. It's reasonably minor, but just make sure to keep an eye on stuff like this, as you don't want to give the judge any excuse to take points off you for GM/PP :)

I would also have liked to see her remark on the surroundings a bit. She's a pegasus, so how will the tight trees affect her? Will she still try to fly, or resign herself to fighting on the ground? If the latter, how will she do this?

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#4
ORITHIA


She had been so close.

A guttural scream laced with frustration and rage ripped from the mare's lips as her teeth slid ineffectually from the stallion's bulging neck. Pastel eyes glinted with her monstrous craving for battle, for the ebb and flow of adrenaline, for the risk and reward of blood stained skin. He turned his scarlet gaze on her, those burning orbs once clouded with lust were now clear and focused - the jig was up and the assault had began.

The rose matched his lethal grin with one of her own, and laughter - cruel and cold and alive - spilled from those blushed lips. That tinkling laughter was wild, unknown and untamed as its owner sped toward what could very well be her destruction; there was no place she would rather be, there was no place she would rather die than cradled in a womb of brutality.

How could she help it? How would she ever be able to escape the sickly sweet embrace of battle?  There would never be another, there could never be another comfort like this, control like this.

She watched, careful and overjoyed as the behemoth stallion swung his weight toward her side, her grin stretching wider. The strike would have been punishing, an exceedingly masculine blow filled with what could only be the rage of betrayal - or the humiliated retaliation of a stallion scorned. Orithia danced away from the blow and to the left, a graceful and battle-born wraith, another bout of chiming laughter burst forth as disdain practically oozed from her lithe frame.

Oh, the simple, beautiful giant; what a blessing he was in his monstrous size and testosterone-dosed brain.

How lucky she was as she waltzed away from his body that she happened to also waltz out of reach of his jaws. She felt the breeze and stirrings of her mane as the Goliath ripped a flower from its place near her poll. A hiss crept unbidden from between bared teeth and the fair maiden felt a flare of shock in her chest; her Goliath was quicker than she had bargained for.

What a treat.

Prancing steps led the mare's left wing to press lightly against the rough bark of a tree, and for a moment the pale maiden was lost in considering her environment; how could she use her wings here? Could she use her wings here? Would they again be used as shields? Less necessary appendages to absorb blows that would normally be crippling? She took a moment to glance down at her left wing, at the scars that cut through the feathers of her joint and the thin white lines of damaged and cauterized skin. Was it worth it to destroy the one true tie to freedom that she possesse--

A shriek shot through with surprise and pain filled the spaces between trees as a flying rat reptile's claws pierced the skin near her dock. Blood, hot and steaming in the chilled air, blossomed from the wound and ran in scarlet rivulets down the dove's rump. With an enraged squeal, Orithia bucked, giving in to the instinctual need to dislodge the thing from her backside.

Fury flooded her, fire igniting in her belly and racing along her veins in a relentless inferno; yet she smiled all the same.

She didn't bother to check what was sure to be a series of gaping wounds before she rounded on the stallion, a gleeful promise for murder written across her face. "Darling Goliath!" She called to him, her voice honey and cyanide, "Your pet has found its mark while you've proven your incompetence. It makes me wonder..." There was a dangerous twist to her hips as she took a step in his direction, the trees leaning in to hear her voice as it dropped to a svelte whisper, eyes trained pointedly on the stallion's groin, "Are you incompetent elsewhere?"

There was no time wasted between the quip and her attack as the lithe warrior leapt toward her Goliath, wings tucked tight against her sides and lacerations trailing blood upon the earthen floor. Again, her jaws opened wide, a feigned strike toward the stallion's underbelly. Hopefully before the stallion could react, the pastel mare reared back onto her hind legs, front hooves lashing out in an attempt to clout the left side of the mammoth beast's ribcage.

Pray tell, am I the incompetent one?

Attack; 2/3
Words; 730
Summary; Ori attempted to close the gap between her and Vol, feigning a bite toward his junk/tummy and then rearing back to punch him in the ribs with her hoofs
Damage; im not sure how many claws your bby has on each lil lizard hand so I'm gonna say four lacerations about 3 inches long and an inch deep -  does that sound right??
@Volterra SORRY FOR THE WAIT IM THE WORST


OKAY so I thought it would be helpful to catalogue my thoughts and reactions while writing as well so I can learn better and you can maybe suggest things? C:

SO  I really wanted to put the screeching of the dragons in the post but I couldn't quite find a way to fit it in between her reaction to vols reaction. For some reason I am having a lot of trouble letting Ori focus on more than one thing at a time as far as sparring goes - like RP tunnel vision? Do you have any ideas or suggestions for that?

Also I'm not sure if the mood is consistent with my previous post as far as reading it goes. I think it matches up alright but for some reason, even though I had a ton of fun writing it, the post was extremely difficult and I felt like I was forcing a lot of the writing. Does it read like that?
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#5


Like a dam bursting open, emotions flood back into the leviathan - and once they start, they don't stop.

First, there is fury at his dragon for interfering; the red receives a great stab of the stallion's mind for his troubles as he wheels out of the way of the mare's buck. Do I look like I need your help, Vérzés? You do not interfere unless I command it! Quailing beneath the force of his master's ire, the crimson dragon retreats back into the trees, where Vadir fixes him with her superior glare and chuckles smugly at his misfortune.

Second, there is frustration, as neither of the goliath's own attacks manage to find their mark. His jaws come away with nothing but a flower, and her flesh remains virgin, unmarked by his teeth. Oh, that simply will not do! His eyes blaze and his ears retreat into the sweating storm of his mane, his nostrils wide and his expression feral. Fuck, it's good to feel again! Through the bubbling, palpable rage that scrabbles beneath his skin and begs for freedom, the stallion feels relief - relief that he is still capable of such emotions. Relief that there is more than just numbness, that he's not dead inside, that Isopia hasn't taken everything from him that makes him him. He embraces his anger like an old friend, cradles his frustration like a brother, and nurtures his determination like a beloved son.

Third, there is lust. But this is no surprise; his desire is the one thing that could never abandon him. Oh, how the sight of the mare's dancing body arouses him so! How her shriek is like an electric shock from ears to groin! She is a symphony of curves and sinew, a creature clearly born to taunt men like him, to draw them into her trap and strike...

Her tone is sickly sweet, and the goliath cannot help but listen; but only insults spew from her jaws, and his eyes flash with liquid fire. He sees red - her attempt at riling him works, and he only manages a furious, indignant growl between the sound of blood pounding in his ears. Incompetent, my ass. Does she know that she insults something that has sown its seed in the fields of countless numbers of her gender? Does she know that he is now morally obliged to show her quite how competent he is? He is too apopletic to even quip a comeback - he will have to show her what he thinks of her comment through actions, not words.

Alas, his vengeance is forced to wait, as her ploy works and draws his mind away from her attacks. He can do nothing but emit a stunned grunt as she lifts herself up and thrashes her hooves at his left side - her feet might be small compared to his, but they are like miniature bullets on his flesh as they clunk and crash into him. A deep-rooted bruise swells up on his skin where her kicks connect, just over his left ribcage. The area tightens immediately, and pain rockets like a shockwave through the goliath's body.

Oh, no, this simply will not do! She has struck him twice, and he has not harmed her a jot - she needs to be taught her place, and quickly. A monstrous roar erupts from his clenched jaws and he swings suddenly to his right in an attempt to present her with his thickly muscled backside. He flings his weight onto his forequarters - finding, to his relief, that his bruised left side does not impede his ability to do this - and kicks out, hard, with both massive hind hooves. His diamond horseshoes glimmer in the half-light, hopefully adding to the damage he would cause should he hit - he aims for nowhere in particular, simply hoping to smash his back feet into her. He assumes she will have landed from her rear in the time it takes him to pivot, so he hopes it will be her sweet, tender chest that he collides with; but any part of her flesh he can bruise would be considered a small victory.

It isn't like the behemoth to be quite so brutal in his fights with women, but this delicious, devious whore has his flesh itching with anger. The primal need to dominate her overwhelms everything else, and so he puts a decent amount of force behind the kick. He hopes that she will not be able to avoid him, given the close proximity of the trees, and he hardly even registers the fact that he's left his ass open to retaliation from her. He cares not, as long as he causes some modicum of damage to that glorious white flesh.

________

Teaching spar for @Orithia !

2/3 - 796 words

V O L T E R R A - V É R Z É S - V A D I R
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR
image credits


ORI

That's a really good idea, feel free to ask any questions! :D

SO I really wanted to put the screeching of the dragons in the post but I couldn't quite find a way to fit it in between her reaction to vols reaction. For some reason I am having a lot of trouble letting Ori focus on more than one thing at a time as far as sparring goes - like RP tunnel vision? Do you have any ideas or suggestions for that? -- This is something I often struggle with, too, and I'm sure most other fighters do as well! Usually, I don't include every single thing that happens in a fight post. You just don't get enough words, and shoehorning stuff in can disrupt the flow of the post, so I wouldn't worry too much about not including the dragon screeches.

With the tunnel vision, again I wouldn't worry too much about this. Realistically, a character probably wouldn't be able to concentrate on too many things in a fight, and the only time you ever really have to is when your opponent performs two attacks simultaneously (like a kick and a bite at the same time). If I was you, rather than worrying about her inability to focus, I'd actually incorporate this into your posts! Write about how she struggles to concentrate on more than one thing - maybe use this as a reason some attacks hit, but also have her muse on what she can do to improve. Then, in later fights when she's got more practice, it's IC that she'd begin to improve in this aspect. That character development should go down well with the judges!

OOCly, I didn't see any issues with this in your post and you addressed everything that I thought was important, so as I say I really wouldn't worry <3

Also I'm not sure if the mood is consistent with my previous post as far as reading it goes. I think it matches up alright but for some reason, even though I had a ton of fun writing it, the post was extremely difficult and I felt like I was forcing a lot of the writing. Does it read like that? -- I actually thought her emotions in both posts matched up really well! She's a joy to read (see my squeeing below) and in both posts I definitely picked up her bloodthirstyness. I read her history after reading this post and the way she reacted is definitely what I'd expect given her past. It didn't seem forced at all, you did really well and as I say below, you definitely don't have much you need to improve on when it comes to the writing and emotional side of sparring :)

Teaching notes:

Spelling/grammar - Damn, your writing is beautiful and I have all the envies. Seriously, I LOVE how you write her. Your sentences are so poetic and flowing and truly a pleasure to read. I didn't spot any errors, and everything flowed really well.

Emotion - I THINK I LOVE ORI. I love how she insulted and riled him, and I was giggling to myself at her 'incompetent' comment. Vol be like :[ :[ but I love it! As I said, you write her fantastically, and all the way through the post I got a great sense of her character and motivations.

Attacks - 'She didn't bother to check what was sure to be a series of gaping wounds before she rounded on the stallion' and 'There was a dangerous twist to her hips as she took a step in his direction' - these statements were rather vague. In a normal thread, it wouldn't be an issue, but in a fight you want to make sure you specify every movement you make. How does she round on him? When you say a step in his direction, is that just a step to her right? As of my last post, they're stood parallel, his left side to her right, facing the same way, and as per your post she now has a tree on her left side which would restrict her movement. You then have her glance at his groin, which would be difficult given their positions - she'd have to turn her head riiiight around to the right. Overall, then, this series of movements isn't very clear - are their positions still the same, or has she tried to bring them face to face? Just make sure you refine your movements a bit more and be extra specific with rights/lefts etc :)

As for the attacks, I love the ideas behind them but I think they need a bit more detail! You say she leapt towards him, but bear in mind how limited the space between them is (so much so that he managed to touch a flower on her mane and she's also got a tree on her other side) - there wouldn't be much space for any leaping. The fact she feigns a strike for his underside (I LOVE FEINTS so this was A+) and then rears up to try and hit the left side of his ribcage implies that she's now facing his side in a T-shape rather than stood parallel, but you don't explicitly state this and so it can be a bit confusing for the casual reader to follow.

Damage taken - Although I like that you took damage from the dragon, I do think it was a bit unrealistic for her to have dodged both of Vol's physical attacks. There's only a small amount of space between them, so for her to have realised he was attacking and then have time to move out of the way is somewhat stretching the timelines. I would have liked to see more description of how she managed to get out of the way, rather than just saying she did - did she guess he'd attack like that, and move in anticipation? This would have made more sense to me than having her just manage to move out of the way given their close proximity.

I thought that the damage you took from the dragon was realistic and well-written, so that was great! With regards to the claw depth and damage etc, I've never actually thought about that lmfao but four sounds about right!

Other - I loved that you mentioned her wings, and how she'll use them (or not use them) and her reasons!

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#6
ORITHIA


She really did need to stop fighting in forests.

The rush of success thrilled through her veins for a mere moment as her hooves struck true, but yet again, her Goliath proved more agile than his looks would present. Pastel hooves had only just pressed against the soft earth when the mammoth stallion whirled, flinging his back hooves out in a savage strike toward her chest. Eyes narrowed in the split second of anticipation before his shod hooves met her pristine white flesh, the pressure and impact smashing into her from the points of her shoulders to the lower end of her breast.

Breath whooshing from her lungs in a gasp, the dove bared her teeth in anger and pain, her rump and hocks scraping against the rough bark of a tree. Oh, how the joyous rage did flow beneath the onslaught of glittering-shoed hooves and tonnes of musculature. Orithia could already feel the smarting muscles of her chest begin to swell and spasm; had the towering stranger succeeded in hindering her movement so easily? Would she be hobbled against his might here between misted trees?

With a sharp hiss and a low grunt, the mare tucked her wings tighter against her barrel, the bruising mass of her chest pounding with each beat of her ashen heart. Her lips pressed together in a stubborn attempt to prevent words from sliding out; as venomous and hateful they would be, the serpentine mare knew that the behemoth would only add her anger to his sense of triumph. Teeth gritting and muscles about her rump and jaw tensing, Orithia eyed the deliciously sensitive spot between the stallion's thighs for a moment, knowing that beneath that thick tangle of tail, a gelding could be created. 

Victorious in this fight or no, there wasn't a stallion alive that could brag about his successes after being castrated by their opponent.

With a baleful grin, the pale maiden took a step closer, farther into the realm of likely injury and closer to the goal she had chosen. Her dished skull snaked forth toward her opponent's exposed backside, jaws agape and reaching toward her trophy. The muscles of her breast protested each movement with a vehemence that only proved to motivate the ferocious lass; her darling Goliath would pay dearly for the grievance he had stamped into her skin. There was a wild spark of vindictive glee within the mare's mind; his height may have been a disadvantage when reaching for his neck, but when lashing out at his manhood?

A lovely coincidence in placement.

The blushed pegasus had to resist the urge to laugh, she was not out of the woods - or maybe she should say 'tail?' - quite yet, and even if she could snip away a stallion's most prized possession, who was to say his retaliation wouldn't be her demise? In spite of this knowledge, the mare did not hesitate in her action, did not falter as the possibility of further massacre or defeat rushed toward her; for what else was there in battle than victory or loss? What else was there to live for if not the thrill of a win or the determination birthed by failure?

There was only one constant in the life of a warrior, a scrapper, a gods-be-damned serpent-tongued ex-whore-turned-shield-maiden, and it was insatiable. Many called it Blood Madness, others knew it as Berserk, Battle Drunk, Crazed, Fury Tranced, but those that waded through the life fraught with bruises and blood only knew its true moniker:

Alive.

Attack; 3/3
Words; <800
Summary;  Ori steps back into the game by literally trying to shove her face between Vol's thighs and castrate him with her teeth (sorry shes the worst)
Damage; Vol's strike gave some really deep bruises on Ori's chest and the forced shoved her back into a tree trunk where her rump and hocks go scraped a lil.
@Volterra
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#7


At last, at last, he feels his hooves smashing into her chest. The sensation is delightful; shockwaves spasm down his legs with the impact, and delight oozes like a balm through his bloodstream. There is nothing like the sweet collision of flesh to fill him with renewed vigour and zest for life, to remind him that there's more to existence than numbness, that he's still alive and capable of enjoying battle. His temper - a savage beast roaring inside him - is subdued to a self-satisfied purr, safe in the knowledge that this wicked temptress will not leave uninjured.

His hooves return to the ground, and he shifts a step forwards to try and move his backside out of harm's way. As he does, her teeth catch hold of his tail and tear a chunk out of it - his ears pin as several tangles of hair are dragged out by the root, causing considerable irritation and pain to the affected area. But it's not this that bothers the blackened goliath - it's the fact that, had his tail not been there, her teeth could have found somewhere else, somewhere far more precious. And something tells him that she'd intended for precisely that to happen.

This infuriates him. This incenses him. What woman would dare call him incompetent, and then try to make him incompetent? What makes her think she has the right to unman him? Oh, she has a cheek! Of all the underhanded, dirty tactics...he's never seen the like, and he's fought some savage fuckers in his time. The red mist descends fully, despite his tiredness (the muggy forest heat has caused sweat to bead across his toned muscles, and has sapped the strength from his bones despite the fact he's not done a great deal of moving), and his stinging tail only adds fuel to his raging fire. How dare she! The insulting, patronising, devious little slattern...

He'd still tap that, though. He'd still show her what she tried to remove. She would do well writhing beneath him, like a statue forged of skin and pleasure.

The dragons are as maddened as he; they are incensed by the audacity of this woman, and their twin screams echo through the trees as they rear high and hiss their fury into the heavens. They want her to burn for her sins, but Volterra has no wish to slay her, despite his rage. Anger and lust are easily interlocked within his mind, and it would be churlish of him to slaughter a woman who has proved she could be a worthy lay...She's obviously a wily little thing, and he can admire that in others even though he does not possess it himself.

That does not mean he will let her crime go unpunished. Oh, no. The leviathan is a creature of living wrath, vengeance incarnate; mercy is not in his nature. She will suffer, she will bend, and she will submit.

With a stallion's bellow, the beast throws his weight to his forequarters again. In a carbon copy of his previous attack, he attempts to kick his hindlegs out hard to try and collide them with her already injured chest and hopefully damage it some more, to try and render her unable to move. When she's crippled, he will be able to ensure his utmost dominance over her; he will be able to claim the victory that is rightfully his. He hopes that she will not expect him to repeat a previous attack, prays that he will catch her unawares. He knows the acute agony of being struck in the same place twice, and it fills him with a thrill of pleasure to know that he's trying to inflict that same punishment on her, to make her screams bellow through the forest as he mangles her chest beyond all recognition and proves what a man he truly is...

Oh, yes. This fight has done wonders for him. From a beast of no feeling, a creature of numbness and anaesthetised thoughts, he has transformed back into this. From ice, he has found fire. He has this devious little woman to thank for that, he supposes.

And thank her he will, if she survives his final onslaught.

________

Teaching spar for @Orithia !

3/3 - 701 words

V O L T E R R A - V É R Z É S - V A D I R
YOU'RE THE CLOSEST THING TO HELL I'VE SEEN SO FAR
image credits


Teaching notes:

Spelling/grammar/prose - This section is actually kinda pointless in this fight lmao as you're doing so well in it. You're a really good writer, and you manage to keep this up even in a fight. Some sentences like 'the bruising mass of her chest pounding with each beat of her ashen heart' and 'What else was there to live for if not the thrill of a win or the determination birthed by failure?' were just <33333333. Seriously, keep up the good work. You've got this part nailed down, it's literally just the mechanical bits of fighting now. You should be super proud :)

Emotion - This was a really strong post emotion-wise, I thought. Her vindictive train of thought about snipping off his man-bits was pretty brutal to read (Vol was literally wincing in my head) but so true to her character. Like I've said above, you've got this particular section down really well, and you should definitely score highly in it. Describing her as 'a gods-be-damned serpent-tongued ex-whore-turned-shield-maiden' made me giggle but also totally understand where she was coming from, and I loved it.

Attacks - I love brutal attacks like these, and I was torn between lol-ing and being disgusted by it - mostly lol-ing though xD Poor Vol was like >:[ and :O and :OOO all in one. However, there's a couple of reasons why I don't think it would actually have worked, as much as I'm sure 99% of Helovia's population hoped it would xP

Firstly, a horse's teeth are blunt. Now, I don't know a great deal about the gelding process (even though I'm not male it makes me wince xD) but I'm assuming the tools used are sharp, not blunt. To chop off that particular area with a blunt instrument, it would take one hell of a blow. Anatomically, it's quite tucked up and neat (in comparison to, say, a cat, where they're just THERE IN YOUR FACE) so even if her attack did hit, she'd probably just bruise them, not sever them. That'd be painful and make Vol cry like a little girl, but it wouldn't remove them as intended. You'd probably have been better trying to make her just injure them, not remove them.

Secondly, the timing is a little bit confusing. For his bits to be visible, it implies he's still bucking, but she's already taken the damage from his buck attack. Therefore, she wouldn't actually be able to see his balls from behind him, because if he's back on all fours, his tail would be obscuring them (she even notes this herself: 'knowing that beneath that thick tangle of tail, a gelding could be created.'). So this was a bit vague overall.

Thirdly, accessing them would be very difficult, even if she's stood directly behind him. She'd need to get past his tail and thighs just to be in with a chance, and it'd take an awkward bit of positioning even to get close.

So whilst I loved the idea, it would have worked better if she'd been facing his side, or if she'd have just tried to bruise them rather than snip them off. Unique attacks are A+, but make sure they're physically feasible to prevent point deductions for realism.

Damage taken - Vol only rolled a 1 for damage, and despite his high damage stat, I think you actually took a bit TOO much damage here. Taking the full force of his hooves directly to her chest is, imo, more of a 3/4-roll damage, as it's going to seriously impact her movement and possibly even her breathing. Bearing in mind that he's also wearing attack-enhancing horseshoes on his back feet, you really want to avoid taking the full impact of them. You then also had her butt and leg scrape against a tree, adding more damage.

It's a delicate balancing act, deciding how much damage to take - just remember to take your opponent's damage stat into account, but also look at the roll as the main way of judging. A 1 is the lowest damage that can be rolled, so even if your opponent's got a high damage stat, you shouldn't take serious damage from it. In your situation, I personally would have had Orithia move to one side and, as a result, had just one of Vol's back hooves hit; this would have created a medium-depth bruise that would reflect his high damage stat, but wouldn't incapacitate her.

Other - You did really well in this fight - I can't say it enough. Just a few tweaks on the more technical 'fighty' bits and you'll make an amazing fighter. I really enjoyed this fight (except for having to google a stallion's anatomy to double check that I had the right idea xD) so thank you, hopefully we can spar again in the future <3

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#8
ORITHIA


So close was she to her goal, yet the wild thicket of tail and the stallion's jerky movements foiled her plans for castration.

She barely had time to spit out the chunk of the behemoth's tail before the dove watched what may very well have been her fate speeding toward her in the shape diamond-decked hooves. In any other creature, panic may have ensued, seized their mind and held them still in bonds of fear and defeat. Yet, the Massacre-ess of Uumalah had been the beneficiary of far worse wounds than that of broken ribs and bruised flesh. In days forward, the mare may think back upon the Colossus and the fury he stoked within his heart, how he had shared it with her through traded blows and a lust for victory.

In days forward, the mare may not think at all, she may lay dead upon the earth, finally broken at the behest of a towering, unnamed demon who had demanded the price of her treachery be paid in blood.

Yet, it was not in days forward as the pale maiden reacted, it was in moments present, in the tiny crannies between heartbeats and the pain-laced exhalations through parted lips. In her final moments of decision, the last few milliseconds before hoof met flesh, Orithia chose one last act of defiance. She could care less if the action left her defeated, she only cared that the action was hers, that the Goliath did not hold enough power over her injured form to decide where next he could inflict his wrath.

So she reared back, wings aching to flare, to lift her from harm and to cradle her within the star-speckled sky. Yet a grounded dove she remained, trees leaning in to trap her within a cage of crooked and spined foliage. The moment seemed to slow, the perception of the maiden lengthening into an endless experience. Distantly, she felt the skin along the front of her forelegs and fetlock joints smart and sting as it was shorn away beneath the behemoth's strike. It was as if she had tucked her reality away, watching from the observation deck of her mind as the punishing blow fell upon the ribs about her girth, felt the ribs crack and groan beneath the onslaught.

Breath fled from her lungs, shoved out and away under the force of a goliath's hooves. Orithia couldn't summon her voice, could barely summon control over her body as gravity pushed her front half back toward the grassy, misted earth. As pink-tinged hooves met the soft ground, sensation rushed back into reality, crashed over the mare in a flood of agony and white-hot disdain. If she could speak, if she could have moved, she would. She would have spat her rebellion at the stallion, would have let him writhe beneath the starlight, wallow in his victory.

She couldn't, though. The pain was too much, it held her hostage, pressed against her at all angles as she gulped down air the best she could. Through a black haze of pain, Orithia turned her gaze upon the stallion, too fearful of her condition's severity to move her rump from it's place against the rough bark of the tree, too fearful of the stallion's intent now that she was wounded beyond fleeing.

A hiss cut through the air toward his onyx form, rage and opposition palpable in each line of the dove's tensed frame. Venom coated her tongue and the mare wished beyond all measure that she could find enough oxygen to speak, to press her verbal blade against the stallion's throat and slice away at that self-assured sense of arrogance, at that provocative sense of hate. Gasps slid through trembling nostrils, small sprays of blood coating her delicate maw in a fine film of scarlet.

You have not mastered me, She screamed from within, eyes ablaze and drilling through the skull of her opponent, You hold no sway here. No matter who you are, no matter what you think, I am mine.


Summary; SOMEONE GOT THEIT BUTT KICCCKKKKEEEDDDDDD
Thanks for this amazing experience, Snow<3
@Volterra
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Jen Posts: 16
OOC Account
Mare :: Other :: 14.3 hh :: 21
Jen
#9
Greater than 20 HP, Volterra wins. 1.5 VP to Vol, 1 EXP to Orithia.


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