the Rift


blizzard [vol vs abaddon]

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


Today, spring retreats.

Today, winter reigns. In the depths of the Steppe the massive stallion stands, his head bowed against the howling wind, eyes narrowed against the blizzard. It surprises him, this weather. Birdsong is warm this year, and the other lands have long since lost their last coating of snow, yet today, in the far depths of the Steppe, Frostfall rules triumphant again.

The black leviathan's limbs are sunk up to the knees in snow, and it accumulates in great drifts around his body. He shakes it off, keeps moving, his legs aching and groaning at the effort of uprooting them from the snow. Flakes drive into his eyes despite their narrowed state, and he can't seem to work out which direction they're coming from to alter his position accordingly - it is coming from everywhere.

Why doesn't he just leave, head to warmer, dryer lands, many will wonder? Because he wants to fight. Last time he fought in the snow, he found it difficult, slippery and awkward and unpleasant. He does not feel as though he fully learnt how to conquer the adverse conditions, and the leviathan is determined to conquer all weather patterns. When he is king, he expects he will be fighting in all manner of different conditions, and he must ensure he is capable of handling each and every one. He will keep fighting in the snow until he defeats it, and there's determination etched into each hard, handsome line of his face.

Vérzés is curled up on his back, dozing - the cold hardly affects him, given his thick scales. Vadir adores the snow, and she flies low above the duo with her scales glimmering magnificently in what little weak sunlight can penetrate the thick flurry of flakes. She blasts flame from her mouth, burning the snow around her, revelling in the control she has over this particular element - she adores her fire, and has an almost childlike enthusiasm regarding it.

Volterra's massive head lifts and he bellows a war-cry to the heavens, praying there is somebody else determined enough - or stupid enough - to join him in fighting in these adverse conditions.

_____________

Teaching spar for @Abaddon !

Set in the Frostbreath Steppe in a heavy snowstorm. Up to you about magic and companions :)

0/3 - words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
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 ]




Abaddon Posts: 42
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3hh :: 6 :: Ages in Frostfall HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Danjah
#2


He did know why he was here, inside the cold when he had found sanctuary back in the warmer South. It felt like Birdsong had barely reached this part of Helovia, the winds around the Steppe throwing themselves on him like masked killers stripping him of the only warm his physical body could muster without the need for his heated rage. What was he doing here?

The snow made him extremely grumpy, the sort of grumpy that would not let go of him once he had felt his pillars go straight through its cold mush and causing him to shiver. The fiery pools of anger threw their way around the Steppe, feeling them focus in on the dark figure of another male, almost matching his height and indeed almost as well-built as himself, but the sheer amass of white that protuded from his cranium gave him the appearance of wearing his skull over his skin and this was something that intrigued Abaddon, only slightly. The pools then scoured over some sort of companion, a dragon from what he could see, ruby scales over a snoozing creature that was hardly frightening.

He felt so cold and angry right now that picking a fight sounded like the best idea to him. A way of practicing the skills his soldier duties needed in order for him to be a formidable oppononent in battle. He needed this.

Prancing up to the strange stag was not the issue, nor was greeting him with a gruff humphhh, but provoking him? That was the issue. How would Abaddon know if this brute was up for a fight? Would he turn tail and run or stand and fight like a male should? With a deep voice he called over the slight wind that was picking up and blowing his tassles over one side of his cranium,
"Does the skull hide the fear of a pussy or are you as brave as you are stupid to be in such a wretched place?" Nice going, Abaddon.

---------

@Volterra

No magic or companions. Abaddon has found himself in the snow of the Frostbreath Steppe in an abhorrent mood, picks a fight with Volterra "just because". xD

[Hope this is okayy! :3]

0/3 - word count here

" . "

Abaddon
All men have secrets…"
[Image: abaddon_pixel___enfanir_by_danjahmouse-d9uses0.png]
Please tag Abaddon in all posts! ♥

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


The snow obscures his vision to such an extent that he doesn't see the mass of black that approaches until it's almost on top of him - he squints his eyes and demands that his dragons lend him theirs, too, but even they struggle to see through the sheer volume of thick snowflakes. God dammit. That will be a disadvantage in any battle, although the brute knows it'll be just as much of a ball-ache to his opponent.

He revels in the difficulty, because warlords are not forged out of men who are afraid to test their limits. Warlords are spawned from the blood and steel of men who not only test their limits, but break them, conquer them, dominate them like a mare beneath their weight.

When the black blur is close enough to merge into solidness, Volterra's innards give a happy little lurch. This man, this potential foe - ah, he's so gloriously big! Taller, even, than the obsidian monolith himself, although the difference is so small it's hardly worth noticing. But this is simply splendid! The beast has never fought an opponent larger than himself before, save for the great demon made of bones and nightmare-born malice who he slaughtered on the beach; this will be a whole new challenge to him, and one that he is quite determined to face head-on and own. Of course, size doesn't matter (although that's easy for Volterra to say, a man blessed with size in every department), as it is the strength of one's body and mind that counts for far more than their height, but it presents an entirely different proposition compared to fighting someone smaller than himself.

He's about to reveal his boyish excitement to his erstwhile foe, but then the male speaks - and Volterra's volcanic temper erupts, eclipsing all else, like an ash cloud over the surface of the sun. Any misguided notion of exchanging niceties is suddenly crushed beneath a great, howling landslide of fury, and the behemoth's ears slam back into his mane like he's clicking the trigger of a gun. He loads the bullet; his muscles bulk to their full and colossal size, his sinews sing with the desire to strike, and his jaws twist into a wolf's snarl.

"Speak with your body, craven, not your words," he booms, his voice a raging storm, his eyes a burning tempest. Upon his back, Vérzés rears high, howling into the blizzard, but Volterra smothers his dragon's desire to attack as soon as he senses it in the red's mind. No, Vérzés. I will take this one alone. Reluctantly, the crimson war-dragon lunges up into the heavens to circle with Vadir, to watch their bonded at work.

It leaves Volterra alone and quaking with suppressed anger at this fool's insults; the snowflakes melt on his hot flesh as he sheds all his training in favour of following his instincts. And his instincts scream at him to just attack, to say a quick fuck you to the conditions and his opponent's size and just fight the only way he knows how. Primal, carnal, hard and fast and painful and bloody and magnificent.

So he does.

He notes how the snow clings to the feathers on his feet and tries to suck him back down as he lunges forwards; this may impact his ability to move later in the fight when he's tired and aching. But right now, he's fresh and fuelled by adrenaline and pure unadulterated rage, and he hardly feels the tug of the snow upon his thick limbs. His obscured vision isn't much of a problem at the moment, either, as his insulting opponent is now close enough for him to see through the storm of flakes.

He aims to approach the unicorn head-on, face to face, man to man - his chest thrusts out and he seeks to slam it hard into the other's own chest. Their strength is likely similar, so the beast is curious if he can barge his foe backwards as easily as he usually does, or whether the unicorn's size and weight will mean Volterra has to rethink his usual tactics. Simultaneously, his jaws reach out and attempt to plant a hard nip upon the right side of the unicorn's face, just below his eye, in the hope of making the tight flesh ache and bruise.

Perhaps these attacks are not too sensible - perhaps trying to flank his opponent would have been better and safer, to avoid that crown of horns and that great size. But Volterra does not understand caution on the battlefield, especially when he's angry - that will come with age and maturity. Right now, the beast only knows how to fight one way, so any alternative attacks do not even enter his mind.

_____________

Teaching spar for @Abaddon !

I'll start the teaching notes after you post next :D Also sorry for the wait! I was super busy this week but my fight posts don't normally take this long :)

1/3 - 798 words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
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 ]




Abaddon Posts: 42
Hidden Account atk: 4 | def: 7 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3hh :: 6 :: Ages in Frostfall HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Danjah
#4


The thick snow was just as much an aggravator as it was a hindrance to his vision as he stepped up to the masked figure in the blazing snow. Abaddon was sure that even when the rage from being so cold in the Frozen Steppe that he would be able to culminate some sort of win here. Here he was, standing against a brute much like himself in size and stature yet not quite up to the mark in height nor sheer bulk. Abaddon was the true hell boy here and he could feel himself just wanting to smash that pretty blurred skull in. For no real reason other than that it would make him some form of happy…

Abaddon's words ripped through the sheer mass of blizzardy snow like a knife and it seemed to have erupted some other kind of rage from within the ivory masked cranium. And the foe spoke, his voice tinged with the fire that gave the hell boy himself a desire to rip open every living creature including the one that dared cross him. It was not that he had not noticed the storm before, but more that it was now so much more exaggerated whilst he was stood there sinking into the deep snow that appeared to be forgotten to be melted by Birdsong's rays. His huge daggers were sinking ever further whilst he stood and waited for the blackened creature to make a move. He spotted the stag’s ruby tinted pools through the ivory mask even in the blurriness of the snow. How the pair fighting over nothing would have loved in all their blackened glory, pound for pound.

His immense heat pulses meant not much snow clung to him but it did not stop him baring his fangs at the opponent. As the other lunged forward, Abaddon stepped back by two paces, feeling like he may have just been narrowly missed. The snow clung to his feathers but Abaddon arched his neck and then took the steps forward with his cranium bent in order to bare the five twisted satanic horns lined in a crown ready to try and pierce the top part of the charcoal brute's neck, just as he unknowingly had the brute's puffed out chest upon him, the weight almost a match for his own. Whilst he was flinging his horns into the flesh of the creature, Abaddon decided to quickly tear to the left in the hope that it would just knick the soft fleshy area, and cause so much discomfort.

Why was he fighting in such abhorrent weather? Abaddon did not know, especially as the light seemed to be so low that both the dark figures just felt like blurs, particularly in the early stages of their pointless fight. He grunted and shouted at his brutish opponent, the noise rattling around the terraria was he stayed fixed in his position in the hope that his sheer size was enough to put force on his horns that he hoped would cut open the flesh. Abaddon’s pools were full of fiery rage that only brightened the orange hues even further, giving a hellish close to them as it illuminated on the mutilated old flesh on his skull that burned just that little bit in the biting cold.


------------

I'm so sorry this is so bad! AND SO LATE.

Abaddon counteracts the lunge from Volterra before arching himself and trying to use his horns to cause damage to the neck.

1/3 - 549 words

" . "

Abaddon
All men have secrets…"

@Volterra
[Image: abaddon_pixel___enfanir_by_danjahmouse-d9uses0.png]
Please tag Abaddon in all posts! ♥

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


His mind is devoured by the logistics of their fight, about how his opponent's size will affect him (he isn't quite sure yet, although it will be a pleasant change to meet a foe who will hopefully be just as bulky and cumbersome as Volterra himself; he grows weary of those short-arse bastards with their great agility), and how the surroundings will affect him (sight is limited, but as long as he keeps the other black close it shouldn't be too much of a problem). Contrary to his foe's rather deluded thoughts, he is not more muscular than Volterra - if anything, Volterra himself holds the edge on that front, given his increased stamina and speed through constant battles - and their height difference is negligible. All these thoughts race through his rage-addled brain as he attacks, a thousand calculations put into practice.

The battlefield is the only place where the goliath's mind is knife-sharp.

His foe steps backwards, and out of the corner of his eye Volterra just catches sight of those wicked, wicked horns as they come towards him like daggers of obsidian. He pins his ears, his body seized by instinct as he lunges to his right; the snow makes his movements cumbersome, however, and he can't move fully out of the way of the attack. Two of his opponent's horns manage to make contact with the left side of his neck, creating two thin but quite deep gouges, and pain erupts through the nerves beneath his flesh.

He draws in a deep breath. For better or for worse, the leviathan has trained himself not to feel fear when he's on the battlefield - a rather foolhardy tactic, perhaps, because fear sharpens the reflexes, focuses the mind, and lends the muscles strength they do not usually possess. After all, what else but terror for their lives allows the gazelle to evade the cheetah even when their stamina is depleted and their limbs scream for mercy? But Volterra, a volcano in black fur, channels anything akin to fear into rage. He uses pain as a catalyst to feed the fires of his fury, and he uses his temper to fuel his blows and lend steel to his veins.

So it is not fear that floods the great behemoth's mind as he feels the pulse of his wounds and realises that, had Abaddon's horns pierced just a few inches lower, they could have struck his jugular vein and oozed his lifeblood onto the snow. It is not terror that grips him at the idea that his life - so young, so full of potential - could have been ripped from him through one innocuous attack.

A sensible horse would be afraid, or would become more cautious as a direct result of this near-miss. A sensible horse would ponder his mortality and ensure he respects his opponent, so it does not happen again.

But Volterra is not sensible. Volterra is wrath incarnate; he is impulsive, he is hedonistic, he is rash and loud and explosive. In battle, these traits become amplified through the increased adrenaline flowing through his bloodstream, and when a could-have-been-serious injury is applied to that simmering cauldron of emotion...it is like putting a match to a stick of dynamite. The wounds so perilously close to his jugular do not frighten him, even though they should (and perhaps they do, in some deep, hidden part of his psyche that he crushes down when he's fighting, so as not to acknowledge its perceived weakness); they incense him. How dare this loud-mouthed pretender get so close to causing him a fatal wound? How dare he almost deal such horrific damage?

An earth-shattering stallion's roar breaks free from the goliath's jaws, like a lion released from its cage to wreak havoc on its captors. He swings his haunches to the right, aiming to bring himself around to face Abaddon's left side in a T-shape. His hindhooves bury themselves in the snow as he lifts his colossal body into a rear, flailing his gargantuan forehooves in the direction of his opponent's left ribcage. He hopes to shatter bones and crush flesh, to cause obscene levels of pain and leave his foe immobilised; it is rare for the leviathan to fight so brutally in a spar, but this black thing has aroused the beast through his words and his attack to Volterra's neck.

His dragons croon amongst the driving snowflakes. They like it when their bonded is enraged. It awakens the dragon in him.

_____________

Teaching spar for @Abaddon !

Teaching notes below! ^^

2/3 - 747 words

FOOL ME ONCE, IT'S SHAME ON YOU
FOOL ME TWICE AND LET THE WOLVES COME CRASHING THROUGH
image credits


Teaching notes:

Spelling/grammar - I loved some of the prose you used, like 'Abaddon’s pools were full of fiery rage that only brightened the orange hues even further, giving a hellish close to them as it illuminated on the mutilated old flesh on his skull that burned just that little bit in the biting cold.' This was amazing and I definitely want to see more of it!

I noticed a couple of grammar errors/missing words, such as: 'Abaddon was sure that even when the rage from being so cold in the Frozen Steppe that he would be able to culminate some sort of win here'. It seems like there should be another word between 'Steppe' and 'that', like 'Abaddon was sure that even when the rage from being so cold in the Frozen Steppe faded, he would be able to culminate some sort of win here'. Also 'He grunted and shouted at his brutish opponent, the noise rattling around the terraria was he stayed fixed in his position in the hope that his sheer size was enough to put force on his horns that he hoped would cut open the flesh' I think this was meant to be 'rattling around the terraria AS he stayed fixed in his position'?

Your spelling seemed flawless though which is the sign of good proof-reading, so well done on that front! :D

Emotion - I got a definite feel of Abaddon's character in this post, his supreme confidence and his bloodlust, but I'd love to see more! You touched on the fact Abaddon seems quite exasperated with Vol's choice of fighting venue, but I'd love to see you add more to this in your other posts and really play on it. You could say how it's irritating him, how that makes him want to pound Vol into the ground even more, and add more layers to his hell-boy persona as well, the fact he loves battle and is confident of victory. Overall, though, it was a good post emotion-wise, so keep it up! <3

Attacks - You have great ideas for attacks - I loved Abaddon using his horns, they're his best asset and he can definitely do some damage with them! So the basics are definitely there, it's just your wording that needs working on, as it was quite confusing.

Try to be a bit clearer about where exactly on your foe you're attacking. You say 'ready to try and pierce the top part of the charcoal brute's neck', which to me implies the area just behind the poll, however getting to that given their positions would be almost impossible. You say Abaddon takes two steps backwards, then moves forwards. Because of Vol's charge, this would make them chest-to-chest, as Abaddon hasn't moved to either side. Given this, it'd be difficult for Abaddon to twist his head enough to spear Vol in any part of his neck - from what I gather his horns are quite long, so it'd be hard for him to bend his head around to either side of Vol's head to access his neck. After a couple of re-reads I think you may have meant Vol's throat, which would be a bit more accessible given their positions, but make sure you specify this! Try to use correct terminology if you can (like if you're attacking a leg, say whether you're aiming for the fetlock, knee etc) so the judge can easily picture what's happening.

You then say Abaddon tears to his left, which makes me think he's on Vol's left (given they're face to face) and is moving to bring them closer, but there's no mention of this in your post. Make sure you're really specific on your positioning, whether you're opposite your opponent, parallel, facing their left side etc. What I normally and shamelessly do is act out the fight with my hands to get a grip of left and rights....which results in some funny looks when performed in a library, I can tell you >.< But it really helps me determine where the characters are in relation to each other, and I always think that if I can picture it clearly, the judge hopefully can too!

Also, be careful with how you word things! 'Whilst he was flinging his horns into the flesh of the creature' could easily be taken as a GM/PP, as it sounds like his attack has already hit. Always use words like tried/attempted etc when you attack, so the judge knows that you're not assuming it hits :)

Damage taken - As far as I could see, you didn't take any damage - this was an honest mistake because of the mixup over the dice rolls so hopefully the judge won't penalise you, but be sure to wait for the roll in future! ^_^ I'm not sure how familiar you are with how damage is calculated but I'll explain anyway, feel free to slap me if you already know haha! The damage is rolled on a dice between 1 and 6 - 1 being the lowest damage, 6 being the highest. In other words, 1 rolls are your small bruises and mild cuts, and 6 rolls are seriously damaging hits that impact your character throughout the fight, like broken bones or severe bruises/cuts. However, your opponent's damage stat also affects how much damage you can take. If a character with a damage stat of 3 rolls a 1, it'd probably only be the tiniest of cuts or bruises. However, if a character with a damage stat of 8 rolled a 1, it'd hurt a lot more even though the roll is the same, so you'd be looking to take maybe a deeper bruise or more severe cut, depending on your opponent's attacks. Both Vol and Abaddon have damage stats of 7, which is pretty high, so their hits will always hurt even if they only roll 1s and 2s (which ironically they both did lololol). For example, as Abaddon rolled a 2, in my post I had Vol take two cuts to his neck from Abaddon's horns - had Abaddon's damage stat been a 4 or 5 then I'd probably have only taken light cuts and maybe only one, but because his damage is 7, I increased this to be moderately deep.

As Volterra rolled a 1, you should have taken fairly light damage. Given his high damage stat, if I was you I personally would have had Abaddon step back (as you did) then have Vol's chest slam hit to cause a light bruise, using the reasoning that the step back took away some of the momentum. I would then have had him swing his head to the left to avoid Vol's bite, then swing his head to the right to perform your counter - so your attack idea was really good, it just needed a bit more clarity!

Your dodges were quite unclear - I wasn't sure exactly what Abaddon did even after reading it several times. You say he took two paces backwards, but this doesn't explain how he avoided the bite; the bite isn't actually mentioned at all! Make sure you always mention all of your opponent's attacks and whether they hit or not. You then say 'just as he unknowingly had the brute's puffed out chest upon him' which implies Vol's chest slam hit, but there's no mention of any damage.

Basically, you have to look at the damage dice roll and use that to determine how much damage your character takes. You can decide how your character took that damage (so say your opponent attacks you three times and rolls a 5 for damage; you don't necessarily have to take damage from every attack, you could just take heavy damage from one attack and avoid the other two, it's up to you! You could also take damage from the environment, such as falling over, if your opponent rolls high but their attacks don't seem to warrant you taking that much damage) but you have to make sure you take it, and acknowledge every one of your opponent's attacks even if they don't hit.

Other - I liked that you mentioned the surroundings and how they'll affect you - I picked quite a tricky set of weather and terrain, but I always find that's more fun to incorporate! Later in the fight I imagine the snow will make our fighters tired, so you could then begin to mention tiredness setting in and saying how the thick snow is taking its toll.

[ 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 ]




Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#6
Time limit exceeded. Abaddon defaults to Volterra. +0.5 to Volterra and +2 EXP for 2 teaching posts.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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