the Rift


If you care to take a dare

Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#1

"I can still fight, you know! You don't believe me?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously as Erthë glared up at the big stallion. The pale autumn light that sifted down through drifting clouds drained the young mare of color almost entirely, and as her temper flared up the wind that ruffled through messy curls turned decidedly icy. The conversation had been fairly pleasant up to this point - as much as it ever was when the company consisted of jiggly-assed mountains with mud for brains, at any rate - but with the way her voice rose, it was becoming increasingly clear that the peaceful mood wasn't going to last.

"Try me, why don't you!"

Already forgetting whatever it was they had been talking about that brought on the outburst, the horned hybrid hobbled backwards over the dry meadow and opened up the space between herself and the equine. As she stepped out of Volterra's shadow the fresh breeze caught her full in the face, so strong that it made her eyes water for a moment before she got used to squinting again. It was windy today for sure; on the coast it would mean rough waves and drifting sand, a sound like thunder or roaring lions as the canopy of the Edge's forest bent and swayed to and fro. But this far inland it was more refreshing than daunting, and it was very tempting to try and stretch out her wings. Like this she might be able to take to the air without a run-up, though actually flying anywhere would be a chore. Overhead the clouds were flying like tattered rags, crowding out the blue of the sky so that the midday light appeared to switch on and off and turned the surrounding landscape from dull, unsaturated hues of brown and gray to brilliantly vivid explosions of color.

It was breathtakingly beautiful, a grand setting that seemed to demand equally grand actions. Erthë was surprised to find herself grinning towards Volterra rather than frowning as she came to a halt, the anger merely providing fuel for a growing sense of excitement that welled up from within as she studied him. Against the burning colors of the oak trees and the sweet lavender of thistle and heather he seemed even bigger and blacker than usual, unfairly well muscled and disgustingly fit. In terms of physique they were nearly completely opposites; big versus small, thick versus thin, bulky against lean - but whereas the red-eyed man was probably nearly as strong as he looked Erthë thought she might be somewhat sturdier than she appeared. Her mother had been a hardy mare and something of her toughness had been passed down to herself, or so she hoped, so while she was at a serious disadvantage it might not be entirely hopeless to get in a hit or two.

And... she did have a slight edge. Reaching in under a wing the young mare retrieved the ivory bow, god-gifted and blessed with more strength than she had ever actually needed to use. With well practiced ease she positioned the bow and pulled the string taught, aiming down the sight until the bright, cold light of magic was trained dead on her friend. Adjusting the angle so that she wouldn't risk hitting any vital parts Erthë let fly the arrow towards that big, broad butt that always annoyed her so, utterly intent on forcing the dragon-bonded to engage her.

I won't let you underestimate me. Not you, who are supposed to be my friend!

_____________________________________________________

PC: 1/3 + def
WC: 588 words.

Setting:
Thistle Meadow, midday. It's chilly with strong winds, drifting clouds and moderate sunlight.

Summary:

Erthë backs away from Volterra and picks out her bow, aims at his left flank and fires. She hopes to force him to engage her, assuming that he won't do so willingly because of her disability. :D



Erthë
the      night      is      calling      my      name

image credit


@Volterra Sorry for the wait, hope now is a good time :)

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening 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
#2


V O L T E R R A
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES
I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON"

As a general rule, Volterra is not a moral man.

He lives in shades of grey; right and wrong are not easily defined, not etched across his mind like contours of a map. Of course, there are some things that he condemns and refuses to participate in - namely, anything that involves the harming of a child - but overall he errs towards the darker side of life. After all, he has made the battlefield his home. No true warrior can afford to allow his morals to get in the way of glory - every soldier must have an element of steel about his persona, else the thought of causing harm might cripple him.

So why, then, does the idea of fighting Erthë feel so damn wrong?

The leviathan has never turned down a fight in his life (not counting his refusal to engage Isopia, because that was different). Any obstacle thrown in his path he gleefully conquers, be it male or female, old or young. This filly, then, should be just another name on his list of victories, another practice session on his march to immortality.

So why the fuck isn't it?

The giant stallion throws his regal head high and snorts the cold autumn air as their conversation turns towards the girl's desire to spar. He cannot explain why, but it makes him ache to know that she wants to fight. It makes him itch to have this ache, and it makes him quiver to have this itch. It is a great conveyor belt of queer emotions for the blackened leviathan, and he stomps one hoof in irritation - not just at her, but at himself.

She continues; there is no dissuading her. "For God's sake, Erthë!" he growls, flattening his ears in warning. Does she not know she is playing with fire? Does she not know that each provocation of him is like poking a sleeping dragon, that any moment he could wake up and eat her alive? His body is thrumming with restrained power, each muscle singing with pent-up energy. Yet his body's desire to engage her is met by an equal force in the shape of his stupid fucking mind and its stupid fucking ideals that he doesn't even fucking understand. He tries, he really does; he knows that she has weak limbs, and she's so damn tiny that he thinks she might shatter with one firm hit. Is that enough, though? Does his reluctance to engage her make him weak?

Still, she persists. She wheels away to face him, readying herself; he unleashes a ferocious bellow and paws the ground again. "Fine! You stubborn....woman." Child. He'd been about to say child, until he realised that was not the case. She is...all woman. She has curves, she has edges, she has - as much as he tries to ignore it - allure. He does not feel the almost fatherly protectiveness towards her that he felt when he fought Ru; this is something else. It is certainly not paternal. Nor is it something he wants to dwell on when he forces himself to look at her, when he commands himself to look past the fact she's a 'friend' and see her as an 'enemy'.

She's small, that much is obvious, the smallest he's ever faced. Her build doesn't reek of speed or agility, however; she's sturdy, but undoubtedly weaker than himself. From what he can make out, she looks hardy - stamina could be where she pips him. The weather and conditions are unremarkable, the temperature pleasant. It is perfect, except for his bloody morality crisis.

"But at least allow me to teach you, so you don't get turned into a pretty white splat the first time you face a real opponent." The beast glowers at her, knowing that educating her is the only way his mind will allow him to engage her. He braces himself, chases away his dragons (they will have no part in this) and waits; she brandishes a magical bow, and fires. He sidesteps to his left just in time, and the arrow carves a thin bloody furrow into his right flank. Painful, but not hindering.

"That was good, but don't rely soley on your weapons. In battle, your body is your most important weapon, and you must keep it sharp. Now, ready yourself. Watch the movement of my muscles and the shifting of my weight, and use it to try and see what I'm going to do." The behemoth lunges forwards, thrusting out his chest; he is obvious in his movements, exaggerating them for her benefit. He attempts to slam his chest into her own to try and barge her forcefully backwards, give her a taste of true battle; he does not pull his punches, because she has to learn.

______

1/3 - 799 words

image credits


Teaching notes:

Spelling/grammar/prose - This was perfect. I didn't spot any typos, and your writing has a gorgeous flow to it. I love the way you describe the surroundings, and some sentences were just breathtaking, such as 'Overhead the clouds were flying like tattered rags, crowding out the blue of the sky so that the midday light appeared to switch on and off and turned the surrounding landscape from dull, unsaturated hues of brown and gray to brilliantly vivid explosions of color.'

I always say that keeping up a good standard of grammar and overall writing is the easiest way to rack up points in the judging rubric. Eliminating typos and ensuring your spelling etc is up to scratch is basically a couple of free points in itself, so it's great that you've obviously already got this down to a T!

Emotion - This was amazing as well. I really felt Erthe during this post, her inner strength and resolve. In fight posts, it can be really hard to make your character's personality shine through especially in mundane spars with no real feeling - I've fallen down on this a few times myself. So it's great that you managed to keep in tune with her personality whilst also incorporating the tricky surroundings of a fight. As long as you keep true to her character and make sure the judge can visualise how she's feeling, you should do fine in this section.

Attacks - I liked the attack, it was clear and concise. I'd have maybe liked to see you be a bit more specific on exactly where on the big butt she's aiming for - the right, the left, or just all of it - in order to help your opponent respond better, but aside from that small niggly thing it was great :D

Damage taken - N/A, but I'll run through the dice roll system now to give you an idea of how to respond to Vol's attacks (if he hits lmao).

So, we have our dice roll thread here. Each time one of us attacks, the dice will be rolled to determine whether the attack hit, and how much damage it did. The formula looks complicated, but when you break it down it's not that bad!

Character Name: Erthe
Attack Number: 1/3
Attack: 1d14 rolled for a total of: 10 + 1d2 rolled for a total of: 1 + 5.5

Damage: 1d6 rolled for a total of: 1 + 5.5

So this is the formula that determined how much damage I had to take from Erthe's first attack. For the purposes of taking damage, ignore the strikethrough bit - that just decides whether the attack hits or misses, but you don't need to worry about that because the admin will state underneath whether it hits or misses. The bits you need to look at are the italic and underlined numbers. The underlined number is Erthe's damage stat - 5.5. If this was a roll for Vol, it'd say 8 instead. The italic number is the dice roll to determine the level of damage. It's a 6 sided dice, so 1 is the least amount of damage you can do and 6 is the most. In this round, Erthe only rolled a 1, which is why I had Vol take such limited damage from the attack.

These are then added together, so 1 + 5.5 = 6.5. That's why Vol had 6.5 HP deducted from his full HP of 80.

Now, when it comes to writing out the damage you take, you need to look at both your opponent's damage stat and the damage dice roll. Basically, a character's damage stat shows how much their attacks hurt - in other words, Vol's attacks will hurt more than Erthe's, even if they roll the same. As Erthe rolled a 1, I took a really minor cut - if Vol rolled a 1 for the same attack, Erthe should probably take a deeper cut (but still nothing serious). Vol's damage stat is higher than average, whereas Erthe's is about average, and she can improve it through buffs!

These are the vague guidelines I use when deciding how to take damage:

1: Very minor bruise/cut that won't impact movement
2: Reasonably minor bruise/cut that won't impact movement
3: Quite painful bruise/cut that won't impact movement/maybe a pulled muscle
4: Moderate bruise that restricts some movement/reasonably deep cut/badly pulled muscle/sprain
5: Severe bruise that restricts movement/muscle-deep cut/maybe a very minor bone fracture/serious sprain
6: Very severe bruise that will restrict movement/severe muscle-deep cut/broken or fractured bone

I then edit for my opponent's damage stat - so if I was facing an opponent with a damage stat of 3 and they rolled a 5, I'd lean more towards taking a moderate/severe bruise rather than a minor bone fracture, depending on the attack. Also, when I mention 'impacting movement', it's because judges can deduct points if you don't continue to mention your previous injuries and have them affect your character. Like, if you fracture your hindleg but then have your character rear up to attack, the judge would deduct for that. Obviously some attacks wouldn't impact movement, aka light bruises, but whenever my opponent rolls a 4 or higher I have my character continue to be affected by that injury throughout the fight. That's just a basic guideline though - if you fought an opponent with a really high damage stat, you might be affected throughout the fight by a 3 dice roll!

I hope this makes a bit more sense now, but feel free to ask me anything :)

Other - You mentioned the surroundings and height/weight differences well. Our surroundings aren't TOO remarkable so they probably won't have too much of an impact on the fight, but Erthe and Vol's differing stats might. Erthe's got higher endurance than Vol so she won't tire as fast, so you could incorporate that later on in the fight too. Overall though, this was a really good post!

[ 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 ]




Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#3

He caved in, and this victory - though small, barely worth notice on the grand scale of things - brought a wide grin to her lips that erased the lingering traces of anger inside. Never mind his doubts now, who even cared about her hurt pride and chipped confidence when the behemoth of a stallion had agreed to face her, teach her even! Another would perhaps be further insulted by the suggestion that she was not competent enough already, but no such thoughts even crossed her mind. As always the prospect of gathering information flipped a switch in her mind that left room for little else; this was serious business now, and she would treat this bout with the same focus and attentiveness as any lesson taught by Alune.

She couldn't help it though. Excitement was throbbing within her as the magic arrow flew through the air, and though she winced a little upon seeing the projectile make its mark - not a clean hit, barely a scratch, but a hit none the less! - there was no time to apologize or dwell on the guilt that burned at the back of her throat. Volterra was speaking again, commending her even as he started towards her. The biting cold of the magic arrow was shrugged off as though it was nothing, pain brushed aside as one might the bite of a mosquito. Was he made of steel, this man? Was it a facade, a mask to make her think it didn't bother him at all when in fact the nick was actually really painful?

Erthë nodded in acceptance of Volterra's offer to teach and followed his instructions, focus keeping her questions at bay. Squinting slightly through the strong wind she watched his movements closely, pale eyes attempting to understand what the complex machinery of the body before her was revealing. He sped up; she leaned back and partly unfurled the wings, distributing weight away from the weak front legs while the feathered appendages helped her keep balance. Sweeping the tail back with a flick she brought the long tassel out of the way of trampling feet, and as she noticed that Volterra didn't seem to turn left or right, Erthë realized she would have to move.

Angling the left wing so that it caught the wind she turned in the same direction, forelegs barely touching the ground as she stepped round, around, and then backwards. The skin on her chest tingled in anticipation, prepared to feel the blistering heat of the stallion brush past, all while the right shoulder braced for impact should her gauge on the distance be off. When she thought he was close enough Erthë brought her head down, teeth bared in search for Volterra's right elbow, hurrying to catch hold of skin before he would be past her - if he would indeed pass at all.

The world was a whirlwind of color around her, painfully vivid and overly bright. All the detail of the landscape and the dragon-lord before her seemed to jump out for her eyes to see, but this only made it feel as though she was missing a hundred obvious things, forced to overlook another thousand details that were more important. Was fighting always like this? Would it change once she got used to the sound of charging hooves, the sun in her eyes, the reek of warm skin and the drumming of her own heart as tall grass tickled her belly? She couldn't recall the great battles of the Rift war anymore, had no idea whether she was acting appropriately or if her decisions would result in snapped wings, jolting impact, a bow snapped in two at her feet while a black behemoth reared up to hammer down her appropriate place in the world once and for all.  

Maybe it was a good thing she hadn't landed a better hit with that first arrow. At least Volterra seemed to be in a good mood... maybe she wouldn't die even if she did screw up.



PC: 2/3
WC: 673

Summary: She watches him closely, judging he won't turn to either side. Erthë turns 90 degrees to the left and backs away, facing Volterra's right side. Hoping he will blast by in front of her, she tries to bite his right elbow.



Erthë
the      night      is      calling      my      name

image credit

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening 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
#4


V O L T E R R A
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES
I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON"

It strikes him as he's running towards her; he's put too much force into the attack. If he hits her....she's so small, she could shatter. There's not pulling his punches, and then there's annihilating her. He can't do that. He needs to train her, not destroy her.

But Volterra knows there's no time for second thoughts on the battlefield. The tiniest indecision can turn the tide of a fight, and changing your mind in the middle of an attack is suicide.

Too late.

At the last moment, he slams on his brakes. As his hooves churn up the ground in a splattering mass of mud and filth, he silently swears at himself for his fucking weakness. His sudden stop causes the muscles of his right foreleg to tense and twinge painfully with the shock of the movement, and he loathes himself for his inability to do what he needs to do. He needs to train her, but how the hell is he supposed to do that when his damn empathy makes him second guess himself? Too hard his strike may have been, but she would have learned from it. It wouldn't have killed her.

He's never intentionally stymied one of his blows before; he's never had misgivings during an attack. Normally, the moment he sets foot on the battlefield he becomes....something else. A monster. Any morals he does have are swiftly smothered beneath a rising tide of rage and hell-bent desire to win; he becomes a sweaty, heaving mass of berserker flesh, a bloody-minded warlord without a care for the innocent skin he's pulverizing. He becomes the beast, fuelled by victory and driven by the feral thrill of domination.

Not here. Because this is Erthë, his usual blind fury hasn't seized hold of him. He hasn't been able to hide his feelings beneath an iron wall of anger like he usually does. There's only his beating heart, the blood that pumps behind his eyes, and his fucking morals.

As it is, she evades him anyway. Even if he hadn't given himself the fighting version of a cockblock, he thinks she would still have got out of the way. "Excellent!" he booms. Given his sudden skid to a halt, her bite sprawls towards the right side of his chest rather than the fleshy skin of his elbow, and because of his jerking movement her teeth only just nip a portion of skin just in front of his right foreleg. It hurts, but it is not crippling. "Good, Erthë. Your teeth are valuable assets in a fight, so use them often. Your hooves, too. Rearing up and kicking out at an opponent is very effective, as is bucking at them."

Volterra does not remain still as he talks. He swings his body to his right, attempting to bring himself face to face with the young mare. There's a gleam in his eye and a slathering of sweat on his body - the day is not warm, but the stress of controlling himself is taking its toll. Still, he is...having fun. He has never had the opportunity to teach anybody before, and he always imagined that he would do so with his own children. This isn't quite the same, but it is still enjoyable in its own way. It is no secret that he loves battle. He adores the slap of flesh, the howl of an injury, the scuffing of hooves on dirt, the reflection of sun off sweat. He even enjoys the pain, the days afterwards when each wound tells a story, the lingering thoughts of victory and the thrill of knowing there is something he is actually good at.

If he can impart one ounce of that joy to Erthë, then he will have succeeded. Fighting isn't just about attack and defense - it's about the raw emotion that comes with each blow, the savage pleasure that only a select few can gain from such a bloody sport.

"Your foe isn't always going to be so kind as to attack just once, however. You need to learn how to handle simultaneous attacks - it requires a swiftness of thought and sharpness of mind. Watch my movements again to guess what I will do, and decide which of my attacks it is safer to take if you cannot evade both. " As speaks, he flings himself forwards again, but instead of leading with his chest he instead leads with his teeth. He attempts to plant a sharp, but not overly brutal, nip upon the filly's velvet muzzle, hoping to bruise the tender area.

Simultaneously, his right foreleg flicks forwards, attempting to smack it into the unicorn's left knee. He does not put enough force into it to break the limb should he hit, but he hopes to make it hurt.
_________________

2/3 - 797 words

image credits


Spelling/grammar/prose - Perfect again! This section is pretty redundant for you haha as you're obviously an accomplished writer, so all I can say is keep up the good work. I didn't spot any typos at all, and you had some more beautiful sentences.

Emotion - Same as above. I love how you write Erthe, she's a joy to read, and I can really feel how she's feeling during the fight. You should do really well in this section!

Attacks - Your attack was clear and well-defined, and I always love nice biting attacks! I can't complain at all about your attacks in this fight, they've all been really clear and descriptive. You're not overmoving, so overall you've done a great job :D And I feel like these are the worst notes ever lmfao but I literally have nothing bad to say!

Some other attack ideas for you, though, could involve her using her assets such as her wings or horns. Especially against an equine like Vol, these species-related assets could make for some interesting attacks.

Damage taken - Critical misses can be a pain to react to (not that I'd know, I don't think I've ever had my opponent roll one lmfao) so I think you did the right thing in just being vague about it. I would say to err on the side of caution and just have your character dodge the attack, but also give clear reasons why they dodged and not just say that it missed (as this could be construed as GM/PP). You did this really well, and described her movements excellently. If I roll any more critical misses, I'd say to do a similar thing - have her dodge off her own back, then leave your opponent to decide how they take the damage to themselves.

Erthe rolled another 1, which is why I had her bite only do a small amount of damage. Also, don't feel like you have to take the damage to where your opponent intends - I didn't take her attack to his elbow because it would have impeded his movement, which would have been hard to fit into a 1 roll.

Other - In your final attack post, you may want to remark on whether she's tiring, and how that affects her. As it's her first fight, you could really play up whether she's tired, or whether she's actually found it quite easy. You could also mention the surroundings, and perhaps muse on the fact that the ground is quite hard and so isn't sapping her strength as much as, say, fighting on sand would. Again, though, this was a pretty perfect fight post, and I'd definitely say you'll score highly! :)

[ 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 ]




Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#5

She was out of her depths here, Erthë felt it with increasing conviction as moments wore on and actions plunged her deeper into this silly game of war. If she had heard Volterra's thoughts there was little doubt that they would have hurt her pride - how was she small and fragile, why did he think he should go easy on her!? - but the truth of the matter was that she had very little to do on the battlefield. Bewildered she watched her big friend and teacher slam on the brakes just before he reached her, no doubt enabling her own silly little pirouette to work beyond what she herself would have managed. Bared teeth that sought the dark elbow of the equine found the hard, swelling muscle of his chest instead and Erthë found her head rattled by the impact, blunt ivories scraping uselessly across the slick skin without finding traction.

What was so excellent about that? It couldn't have hurt, he must barely even feel it! If this was a real fight he wouldn't have slowed down, she wouldn't have evaded, this wound would not count - she would be in trouble, and she would have no idea how to get out of it.

Volterra kept talking, and he kept moving, and it was hard to focus on both at once. Before she had time to process what he had said the girl saw his own bared teeth come flashing towards her face, and like icy water running down her spine she felt fear erupt, born from doubt and failing confidence. It wasn't deliberate thought and active decisions that made her jerk her head back or pushed her up on her hind legs in a rear. It was instinct, reflexes that suggested she ought to protect the face at all cost. But the price for safety in this case proved high indeed; out of nowhere a giant hoof came flying, and as she rose up it clipped her left knee with added force that brought a startled scream of pain from her throat.

"Oooww!"

Black and white light flashed before her eyes, making it impossible to see beyond the blistering agony; Erthë couldn't hear, couldn't feel anything over the white-hot, icy agony that rippled through her body like shock waves. The only thought that flitted through her mind, erratic and barely coherent, was how lucky she was that it hadn't been the other knee.

Pale wings flapped furiously, the desire to flee, to fly, to get away from this game that wasn't really funny so strong it took over for a moment. As she began falling down toward the ground again on the stallions left side the heavy, bony joint of the right wing came flying towards Volterra's head, threatening to smack into his left eye. Simultaneously, her mind lashed out with whatever was most familiar to her; ice erupted all around the small mare as the water around her froze. It coated every strand of grass on the autumn meadow and flew like frosty smoke in the wind, even sought to freeze the very sweat on Volterra's body and the liquid in his exposed eyes.

She didn't mean to do it. Had the sudden pain not brought her nearly from her senses the young cygnet would likely never have used her magic in this situation, realizing it was feeble at best, hardly useful at all. But everything went so fast, and she couldn't keep up. Even when the dancing lights faded from her eyes she could only feel the throbbing pain; not the strong wind that kept buffering against her body, not the billowing grass around her legs or the firm ground beneath her feet.

What had she even been thinking, challenging Volterra like this? It wasn't even fun, it was a stupid game and she was lousy at it!

Go back to your knitting girl, and your books, because cowards don't belong out here.



PC: 3/3 + closing def
WC: 659

Summary:  She freaks out and rears, avoiding the bite to the nose but taking the hit to the knee full on. Half-crazy with pain she flaps around with her wings as she come downwards again on Volterra's right side, causing her right wing joint to aim for his left eye. Meanwhile she lashes out with magic, freezing all the water within 15 feet of herself, including the sweat/moisture on Volterra as well.



Erthë
the      night      is      calling      my      name

image credit


@Volterra

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening 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
#6


V O L T E R R A
HE SAYS "OH BABY GIRL, DON'T GET CUT ON MY EDGES
I'M THE KING OF EVERYTHING AND MY TONGUE IS A WEAPON"

He knows the attack is too hard the second he moves his foot, but this time it is too late to do anything about it. She half-rears to avoid his teeth, but there's nothing she can do to save herself from the colossal feathered hoof flying towards her.

His foot clatters into her, and his face twists into a horrified grimace. "Shit, Erthë!" Her legs...The scream of pain that she unleashes is like a frozen dagger to his heart, and and it tugs at the tidal wave of guilt that threatens to overwhelm him.

What have I done?

He's a fucking scumbag. He's attacked a girl - because his morals are now forcing him to see her as the girl she was, not the woman she is like he was doing before - and a cripple girl at that. He went in too hard, like he was fighting a fully experienced warrior and not a battlefield virgin (he's defiled that pure flesh, scorching the petite snow queen with his dirty fire). "I'm so sorry, I...."

But he's underestimated her. The leviathan should have known that she isn't the sort to give up; God knows, she's suffered enough hardship in her life to forge molten steel across those cold white limbs. She's not a pushover, and a swell of pride rises in his chest to know that her mind fights against the limitations of her body.

As the wing soars towards him, it occurs to the behemoth that he should take the damage, just to make the girl feel like she has succeeded. It would be the chivalrous thing to do....but alas, the stallion's instincts override his attempts to be a gentleman. He automatically flings his body backwards to protect his face, and the descending wing misses him by a hair's breadth.

Then, suddenly, the temperature drops. Volterra has backed up enough that the girl's magic doesn't freeze the water of his eyeballs or cause him any damage, but it does create a frigid chill that seems to soak down to his very bones. His flesh quivers as ice particles form where sweat was moments before, and his breath rises as hot steam in front of him.

This explosion of magic makes him realise something. The girl may be smaller and weaker, but inside she's strong. She fought back even through her pain, and in a moment of clarity the behemoth knows that she can do this. He can show her how. Together, they can lift her to greatness, and this startling realisation makes his brow furrow in determination and his teeth clench with benediction. "Come on, Erthë!" he bellows. She can do it, but she just needs a little coaxing. She needs to believe in herself as he suddenly believes in her. "We're almost there. You're stronger than you know, girl - now show it!"

He lunges forward again, stiff and tired from his exertions but determined all the same. If he has encouraged her to see this through, then the least he can do is the same. He seeks to bulldoze towards her with his chest, attempting to crunch it into her own; not with a great deal of force (he's not making that mistake again) but hopefully enough to make her retaliate based on her raw instincts. He keeps his hooves firmly planted - he will not kick out again, his guilt won't allow it - but he seeks to plant a bite upon her left shoulder where it joins her neck.

Perhaps he should have taken her exclamation of pain as an indication that the battle is over. Perhaps he should leave her to nurse her wounds and her pride, and let her try again another day. Perhaps he should leave someone else to convince her that she can be great, because it sure as hell shouldn't be him.

But he won't. He believes in her; it defies logic or reason, but he truly believes that this girl has something special about her. She just needs to channel it - and to do that, it needs to be drawn from her. The leviathan aches from his exertions, sweating profusely now that his icy sheen is beginning to melt, but he knows he must continue.

For her. His friend.
_________________

3/3 - 712 words

Thanks for the fight Chan :)

image credits


Spelling/grammar/prose - Again this section is defunct aha. I spotted one typo ('falling down toward the ground again on the stallions left side' missing comma in stallion's) but overall it was pretty much perfect. You've done a fantastic job of writing in this fight, and each of your posts has flowed really well. Great job :)

Emotion - Same as above. I've found Erthe to be flawless in this fight - you've kept her personality consistent and you've definitely tugged at my heartstrings, let alone poor Vol's. I especially loved your last sentence: 'Go back to your knitting girl, and your books, because cowards don't belong out here.'

Attacks - The wing attack was well written, as was the ice attack. They were both specific and well described, which was great! The only thing you didn't do in this fight is a kick, and kicks are quite a big part of horse fighting. However, given her legs, you probably did the right thing.

Damage taken - You did well coping with the simultaneous attacks and you definitely emphasised how much he hurt her knee, however I couldn't see anywhere that you actually stated how much damage has been done to her. As I said in my damage notes in my first post, when you get a 6 dice roll and especially when you get one from a character with a damage stat as high as Volterra's, you probably need to be taking fractured/broken bone damage if you choose to take it from a single attack. You described how much pain she was in, but not what damage was actually done to her knee - is it severe bruising, a fracture etc?

Now, obviously a fractured/broken leg isn't something you want to suffer in a fight, so reacting to my two attacks plus that dice roll is actually quite a tricky situation. What I personally would have done is split the damage between Vol's two attacks, rather than taking the full brunt of the 14 points of damage from one source. So I would have allowed his teeth to bite down hard on her cheek, for example, causing a deep and very painful bruise. Then I'd have had his foot hit her leg, but maybe scrape down it and rip the skin off it rather than cracking any bones. As long as you emphasised the fact that both attacks were very painful and did a fair amount of damage, the judge shouldn't deduct. So you'd still have taken the high damage roll without fully crippling your character. In this case, it would probably have been better than taking the damage all from one attack, but risking a deduction for not fully explaining her injury.

This bit in the dice guide is quite a useful way to look at taking damage:

'The dice are rolled after each post and are only rolled once, even if there are multiple attacks. The beauty of the dice system is that you, as the player, get to decide how your character takes their damage. For instance, if your character takes 6 points of damage and your opponent has attacked twice, you can:

take 6 points of damage from attack 1 and dodge attack 2
take 3 points of damage from attack 1 and 3 points of damage from attack 2
take 1 point of damage from attack 1 and 5 points of damage from attack 2
take 6 points of damage from attack 2 and dodge attack 1
dodge both attacks and take damage that you inflict upon yourself
take 1 point of damage from attack 1, 1 point of damage from attack 2 and 4 points of damage that you inflict upon yourself
take 6 points of damage from any other combination of effects that you can imagine'

So if you'd wanted, you could even have taken a small amount of damage from Vol's attacks, but then had Erthe trip and pull a muscle or something to get it up to the 14 points :)

So yes, you did well mentioning the pain she's in, but try to specify what exactly is wrong with her as well (eg broken bone, severe bruising).

Other - I think you did a great job in this fight, and Erthe is a fascinating character to spar against. I'd have liked to see some more about her tiredness, given that it's her first fight, but overall I think you did a fab job, well done :D

[ 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 ]




Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#7

It hurt. All the gods be damned, it hurt! Erthë had thought herself accustomed to pain after the long months she had spent limping around the continent. She'd always kept her head high in stubborn refusal to acknowledge it, unyielding in her desire to keep moving despite the crippling scars. Foolishly she had ingested potent herbs and ridden waves of sweet relief, believing herself to be above suffering as she recklessly gambled with her own life.

Oh, how stupid it had been of her, to not realize that the pain was not an enemy to be conquered, but a guide to highlight flaws and overcome them. At no point before this moment had she been forced to appreciate just how weak she truly was. It was laughable, so obvious now that Erthë felt a sudden urge to chuckle in the midst of the mind-boggling agony. Because, was it not just so ridiculous!? There she was, tiny and frail and limping, possessing no significant strength nor inherent natural ability, nibbling at the knees of a behemoth. It was not even a worthy David and Goliath analogy, because David had been excellent with a slingshot and she... Well, she had dropped her bow somewhere in the grass and could hardly move for the white-hot pain that stabbed at her knee as she tried to use it - she would have to see a healer about that later, she had no idea what kind of damage had been done beyond an obvious bruise - and as cloven front feet made contact with the ground she knew it would be impossible to keep doing this.

Not right now, at any rate.

Volterra shouted encouragement at her as he came in for another attack, and his voice grounded her enough that the moment of panic could pass. Still, her movements were erratic and clumsy as she tried to dodge him, the weakened legs failing in bringing her away from his charging body. The bone-rattling impact as he slammed into her right side actually knocked her sideways in a bombardment of pain and dizziness; as she staggered off with flapping wings, straining to remain on her feet, she didn't even see the second attack. Blunt teeth clamped shut around her withers rather than the shoulder due to the momentum of the shove, pinching hard until another squeal of pain escaped her throat.

The world spun around her, a twisting kaleidoscope of color framed by darkness and flashing light. Her breath, already strained by the physical and emotional exertion, came in short bursts and Erthë was faintly aware of sweating, dark mottled patches emerging on her pale coat at every crease and fold of skin. She paid for her overconfidence now, with a battered and bruised body that would take some time to heal even with the assistance of magic, and there was no telling how long it would take to rebuild her confidence. But, strangely enough, this did not put her down. The realization of her own weakness that blossomed during this scrap almost felt liberating, because although the road she saw stretching on ahead was long, it was ultimately simple and straightforward. If Erthë did not wish to remain weak, she would simply have to grow stronger. If she did not want to be a coward, then she would have to stop leaning on the crutch that was her handicap and do something about it, meet the pain and humiliation head on and fight, straight on through until she changed.

How fortunate she was, to have this realization now in front of someone who didn't taunt her for this weakness. Though she realized that he had to be pulling his punches, Volterra still delivered them without babying her, and for that Erthë was incredibly grateful. His encouragement gave her strength, and though she was ready to drop to her knees and beg for pardon, she wouldn't. Not when he spoke to her like that!

With the last vestiges of strength the little mare pushed off against the ground and tried to rear, hoping to free herself from the vice-like grip on her withers. Up she rose, and then with a final jerk she shoved herself to the right, away from Volterra until, hopefully, enough space had been created that she would not have to suffer any more injury today. Give her a few weeks to recover and process his lessons, give her a few easier opponents to face; then she might come back for more.

For now however, Erthë was quite done.



PC: Closing defense
WC: 757


Thank you so much for this Snow, it was really fun! :D It's been ages since I sparred and I really feel it, I'm gonna need so many videos of play-fighting horses to get the movements and such back in haha. Thank you for the notes, they've really been helpful! I hope you're up for sparring again sometime, love the interaction between Vol and Erthe in this thread. <3



Erthë
the      night      is      calling      my      name

image credit


@Volterra

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening posts |~

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#8
20+ HP gap.

Volterra defeats Erthe. Volterra earns 1 VP + 0.5 VP for 3 teaching posts.
Erthe earns 1 EXP
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture