the Rift


fortitude (vol vs arah)

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 frigid wind batters the leviathan's flesh, driving tiny daggers of ice into every inch of exposed skin. His eyes are narrowed against the blizzard, his ebony mane twisted like a tempest behind him with the force of the wind. He presses on against the gale, his muscles bulking and flexing between his snow-drenched black fur, his hot breath misting the icy air in front of him as he presses on through the storm. The snow is fetlock-deep, making movement difficult, and it clogs in the heavy feathering around each massive limb.

It has been too long since he last fought. He has not worked his fingers to the bone, not pushed his colossal body to the limit, simply to slacken in the winter months and allow his pristine fighting record to become marred by inactivity. He is already close to becoming the warlord he always dreamed of being in his colt months, but it is not enough. The stallion cannot and will not rest on his laurels now. He is the Gladiator, and winter is his season. It is when he feels strongest, when he feels most invincible, most Indomitable. There are dozens of opponents just waiting to meet him and to fall beneath his hooves, and the continuation of his march to glory starts today.

His dragons are certainly not inclined to allow him to, either. They fly high above him, scanning the snow-covered land for potential opponents. Somehow he thinks he will struggle to convince them not to help him out in this fight, as they itch to be involved in his battles and stretch their sparring muscles. Both red and gold are formidable presences in his mind, almost threatening to overwhelm his own consciousness with their desire to sink claws and teeth into an opponent's flesh. They are savage beasts in the blizzard-ridden sky, and Volterra knows he will have a difficult job on his hands to stop them assisting him.

He finds a flat plane of snow, devoid of rocks and any other obstacles. It seems like a reasonable enough arena, and the behemoth deems it adequate with a simple snort of cold Frostfall air. He is prepared for the battle ahead; Gashad's skull mask covers his face, lending him additional defense against the elements. He rarely uses it in meaningless spars, but he's keen to test it out again and see how it holds up against the relentless hammering of a foe.

A simple black hulk in the snowstorm, the colossus lifts his head and bellows a war-cry into the blizzard.

______________

Teaching spar for @Arah ! Set in a heavy snowstorm in the Thistle Meadow in the late afternoon. Feel free to have first attack :D

0/3 - words

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
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 ]




Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#2

:: Arah ::

Winter winds carried whispers, tongues both foreign and known, which breathed their secrets and carried the scents of their homes and owners. These are more than just the usual wintertime gusts, they are the gales of a snow storm. Memories of her time in The Basin, both painful and pleasant, are brought to the foremost in her mind. It would be a lie if the silver doe claimed that she did not miss the frozen tundra that had been her home for so many years. The day she’d moved to The Edge, however, marked the beginning of her family life, worship of a new deity and the light of promising dawns.

Trudging forward, yes positively trudging, through the snow she has yet to notice the figure in the distance. The doe’s efforts are focused on resisting against the wind that blasted her from behind, it’s strength threatening to blow her away. Meanwhile her thoughts are turned towards the warm home Tilney had made for them, longing for both him and their family burned across her chest. The silver doe is not built for weather such as this. The freezing climates of the north she had endured for years but battering her way through a snow storm was proving rather difficult. Additionally Arah was worried about concealed holes undisclosed beneath the snow, sure to make quick work of snapping a delicate ankle. With each step she remains oblivious to the lurking threat of violence.

Wynter, ever her vigilant guard, had spied him through the flurry. She had seen the shadows that moved around their surroundings, felt the gaze from between the snowflakes and saw him approaching the flat makeshift arena that (or so the griffin believed) would soon be stained red. Sharper hearing than the doe’s picked up the sound of other creatures in flight above them. At first she tries to make her bonded see what she had but Arah is slow on the uptake, still battling her way carefully through the storm. Crawling her way up the doe’s back the griffin coos at her mistress, altering the mare’s gaze towards the lurking figure.

The moment Arah’s golden eyes turn towards the figure all logical thoughts escape her. Only images flash through her mind, how she had attempted to fight for her freedom and he had crushed her. Asch and Arwen, their sweet, young and innocent faces painted thick with fear. Any other opponent and she would have acknowledged that fighting such a beast was a useless task - she was sure to loose. Today and this creature however, they were different. Logic played no role in her decision to change her course and begin charing towards the figure. It was instinct to avenge her daughters and protect her family’s future that encouraged and steadied her hooves.

“TYRADON!” Her voice is ripped away from her mouth by the winds, hurtling towards the huge beast like a bullet fired from a gun. Wynter spreads her wings wide and leaps from the doe’s back into the air, allowing the strong wind to propel her, the griffin’s normal speed becoming greatly increased. “IT’S YOUR FAULT!” This may have been a stretch, yet it was his and that other wretches’ face that sill haunted her nightmares. “How could you? They were innocent children.” Despite the rage her voice trembled, the pain of loosing one’s children never stops being felt, it demanded attention constantly. Reaching the level ground she approaches the beast’s left side, her head bending, antlers aimed towards the brute’s shoulder. The barbs on her antlers will rip through his flesh and muscles, tearing tissue away from bone. She wants to impale him on her antlers, wear torn strips of his dark flesh as a gruesome trophy for the entire world to see. Arah carefully navigates the terrain while maintaining her speed, she’s aware of her slippery it can be so the doe is sure to dig her hooves into the soil under the snow, giving her a more secure her footing.

Her breaths are ragged, her rage untamed.

Above Wynter screams a challenge to the two dragons, she is larger than one and of a similar size to the other. The griffin is ardently willing to take them both, distract them from Arah who would have enough trouble managing the brute by herself. Talons and beak poised she swoops towards the larger golden dragon, aiming for it’s neck with her talons and eyes with her beak. If she manages to take out the larger dragon their odds will be slightly better than their current state.

Below her Arah screams in fury, preparing for battle.

----

Arah charges towards Volterra's left shoulder intending to puncture his flesh and muscle with her antlers. Wynter swoops towards Vadir, aiming to pierce her eyes with her talons and peck at Vadir's eyes.

1/3 - 771 words
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ 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
#3


She comes from nowhere.

Against the backdrop of snow, she is a simple white blur. She is the siren in the blizzard, the ghost shrouded in a cloak of ice; he squints through his mask, trying to make her out, trying to size her up. The dragons help, their sharp eyes seeing through the haze of flakes to help him ascertain what he's going up against - she's far smaller than him, far weaker than him, but that refined build just reeks of stamina. She'll be able to go the distance, even if she cannot hope to rival him in pure unbridled power. It does not escape his notice that she's a pretty little thing, too, and his crimson gaze turns suddenly lecherous as he admires the firm contours of her body.

TYRADON!

The leviathan's blood runs cold. His entire body freezes, as though turned to ice by the blizzard conditions that surround him. His heartbeat pulses in his ears, his muscles tense and rippling with the shock. His father. She knows his father.

And she's charging.

Confusion darts across those handsome features of his; how can she think that he is Tyradon? But the realisation suddenly hits him with a force to rival the blizzard - the skull mask that rests upon his face obscures the fact that a broad blaze lies beneath it, not a teardrop star. Amidst the hazy storm, it would be hard to tell that the eyes beneath the mask are hot crimson, not cold grey. In all other respects, the stallion and his father are almost identical; both black with white forelegs, both mammoths, both perfect examples of raw draft power and testosterone, of steel bodies and iron minds. They are both dragon-lords, albeit he is bonded to red and gold rather than green.

How could you? They were innocent children. The words are daggers to his heart. No. He only met his father once, but he has elevated the blurry memory of the hulking black monolith onto a pedestal of respect. His mother told him tales of the Warbringer's greatness, of empires crushed beneath his hooves and herds laid to ruin by his wrath. She did not speak of child murder. And if there is one thing Volterra cannot abide, it is the harming of a foal. The notion that his own father may have done something so repugnant....he is suddenly sick to his stomach, and fighting quickly becomes the last thing on his mind. "I am not Tyradon! What...what did he do to your children?" Volterra is not the sort of man to fear things, especially on the battlefield, but the possible answer makes his gut twist in apprehension.

But she's still charging, and he has to react. As she comes for his left side with her antlers lowered like a raging stag, he swings his massive weight around to try and bring himself facing her. It is just enough to prevent her from crashing directly into him; instead, her left antler drags down the full length of his left side, ripping the flesh until it flaps like meat in the wind. The cut is medium-depth and the cold air dampens the initial surge of agony, but a hiss of displeasure slips from the stallion's lips as he realises that the injury is probably worse than it feels.

He should stop to speak to her. Reason with her. Find out his father's sins, so he can condemn them. But before all else, Volterra is a man. He is a warlord. He is a beast, a primal and impulse-riddled creature, and every muscle in his body screams at him to retaliate. He asked for a fight; he will fight. His father's misdemeanours will not keep him from valuable battle experience.

He launches his head to the left, trying to bite the mare's left flank as it zooms past him, assuming she won't be able to stop in time with the slippy conditions underfoot. He hopes to pepper her hindquarters with sharp nips, trying to assert his authority and punish her for her attack to his side.

Above him, Vadir sees the griffin soaring towards her, taking it as a challenge. She gives an imperious screech, disgusted at the audacity of the creature; how dare it attempt to attack her, queen of dragons? She swings herself neatly out of the way of the griffin's blows, launching upwards to give herself the dominant position; in one fluid movement she throws her massive weight suddenly down again, aiming to wrap her limbs around the griffin and slam it into the ground. Her jaws open to send a searing blast of flame forwards, attempting to incinerate the creature until naught remains but ashes. Vérzés hangs back, content to watch his golden sister at work for now.

______________

Teaching spar for @Arah ! Sorry for the wait, I'm not normally this slow but Christmas + illness D:

1/3 -799 words

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


Spelling/grammar/prose - You write beautifully, and overall it was a really good post :D I love your descriptions of Arah and the weather, and it flowed really well. I always say that one of the easiest ways to get points in a judging rubric is to just maintain a good standard of grammar/spelling throughout, and you did well on this, but I did notice a few typos (nothing major, just some small things):

'The doe’s efforts are focused on resisting against the wind that blasted her from behind, its strength threatening to blow her away' - its

'she’s aware of her slippery it can be' - did you mean 'how' slippery it can be?

'she was sure to loose' - lose

'change her course and begin charing towards the figure' - charging

'giving her a more secure her footing.'

Try to cut out as many of these as you can, and you should score highly in the prose section :)

Emotion - I loved her reaction when she thought it was Tyra, as well as Wynter's emotions. You write her feelings beautifully, and I got a good feel of her all the way through the post.

Attacks - Your attacks were clear, easy to understand, and well described, which is great! You also didn't over-attack, which is good. Overmoving can be an easy trap to fall into, but I always think one or two attacks is the best way to go, as well as using a companion.

Just one thing, though: 'The barbs on her antlers will rip through his flesh and muscles, tearing tissue away from bone' - be careful with sentences like these. Although you mentioned attempt/aim etc in the surrounding sentences, at a glance this sentence can appear to be a GM/PP, as it seems to assume that the attack hits. You don't want to give the judge a reason to deduct, so be careful to put in words like tried etc :)

Damage taken - N/A

Other - You did well mentioning how slippery the snow can be and her reaction to it, but you could also incorporate the lack of visibility due to the heavy blizzard.

She mentions Vol's size, however you can go deeper into this and really mention the differences between them. Rather than looking at their battle stats, go to their profiles and look at their base stats (speed, strength etc) to compare them. So Vol is: Strength 9, Speed 5, Agility 6, Endurance 6. Arah is Strength 2, Speed 4, Agility 4, Endurance 10. As you can see, although it would be a natural assumption that Arah is smaller and therefore more agile/fast than Vol, this actually isn't the case. You could have her remark on his superior strength etc, but also muse on the fact that her stamina far outstrips his, so that she won't tire as fast as him :D Observations like this should earn you points in the rubric.

Overall this was a solid fight post, just watch out for accidental PP/GM and typos c:

[ 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 ]




Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#4

:: Arah ::

He is denying her vengeance. He is denying her by lying about his identity. It only serves to fuel her anger further, the doe's breath comes in furious puffs. "Don't lie you coward!" Arah growls back at the massive creature. This was not something that she will allow him to refute either to her or himself. No, today he will face her. Today, if the gods so allowed it, she would be his judge and jury.

As she's charging her hooves are sure upon the dangerous ground because she knows that this is right, the gods had finally delivered him to her. The doe does not expect him to remain still and simply allow her to impale him. Though, in truth, part of her had hoped this would be over quickly. The stag lifts up his massive bulk and swings so that now they are head on. This had not been apart of her plan but she will not stop now, it is too late to back out and she did not wish to end this fight.
The doe allows herself the grim satisfaction of feeling her antler dragging down the full length of his left side. The feeling of her antlers goring into his flesh is indescribable, both utterly pleasing and horrifying in the same instance. The difference in their height, weight and strength would not matter if she is quick enough to break away before he can retaliate. Arah's nose packs up the scent of blood, that sharp, tangy metallic scent over powers her nostrils as his flesh flaps like meat in the wind. The doe does not miss the hiss that sounds from the stag and a smug smile pulls the corner of her lips up.

Now it is truly to late to back out. She has disturbed the hornets nest, poked the sleeping bear in the eye with a very sharp pointed stick.

Arah knew from their previous fight that he would not back down. Violence was what he lived for, spilling the blood of the innocents and the guilty alike was what he thrived upon. There would always be men like Tyradon, preying on the weak. Few protected the needy, few had it within themselves to defend those who deserved it. Asch and Arwen had deserved protection, a wall of defence between them and the monsters that lived in this world. The doe had been too weak and failed them.

Without another word passed between them he launches his head to the left, she hardly notices the movement in her peripheral vision. As his teeth sink into her flesh she cries out, her head thrown backwards as the pain elicits another cry from her chops. Agony ripples down her back, her entire spine reacting to his attack. With his massive height he towers over her, yet she does not allow herself to feel his domination. Arah had begun this fight and she would finish it. More bites pepper her skin, blood pools in the grooves made by his teeth until they fill and spill over. Her ivory coat because stained by the crimson red. Anger is no longer the only driving factor, pain now contributes, encouraging her to continue and push through the agony.
Deciding to use the treacherous ground to her advantage, the doe all at once stops her movements. She spins out of control, her petite figure stopping once she is facing the stag's rear. Rearing up she allows herself some concern for the soft flesh of her stomach being exposed, yet continues with her attack. Aiming for his hocks she hopes to bring her hooves crashing down and crumple the delicate joint. Or at the very least scrape away the delicate skin around his hocks and then continue to gouge the rest of his lower legs.

Meanwhile above their heads, Wynter is crying out not in pain but frustration. The dragon had avoided her attack and in one fluid movement their positions had been altered and her opponent was the dominate figure. In one swift movement the dragon throws her massive weight down with Wynter entwined in her limbs. The griffin notices the flames being created within the dragon's jaw and it becomes a race to escape. Squirming the griffin breaks free of the hold but flames still manage to lick her left foot and side. It is not a terribly bad burn, in time it will heal and her feathers will grow back. Now Wynter is on the attack again. The dragon had succeeded in her dragging her down, closer to both of their fighting masters. Closing the distance between herself and the stag, Wynter opens her claws aiming for his flank. Darkness pools around her beak and talons, praying to drain his strength and energy before his dragons can intervene.

2/3 - 800 words - So sorry about the wait. Been busy over xmas and new years.
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ 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
#5


Coward.

If there's one word that ignites Volterra's blood beyond anything else, it's that. It is the one word that is the polar opposite of everything he stands for, the one word that he is the utter antithesis of, the one word that makes him want to bring death upon whoever dares issue it towards him. That word is the finger that caresses the trigger of a loaded gun, and the second it reaches his ears he feels the muscles flex against the delicate metal. The bullet shifts, loosens, ready to explode.

She calls him a liar, too, and his crimson eyes flash as the fire is struck within him. It's a sizzling of wires and veins, molten flame searing through his body until it reaches his head, until there's nothing he can concentrate on but the blind fucking rage towards this woman, this object in front of him. It's an involuntary shudder, a rippling of white-hot anger through every rock-hard muscle in his entire massive form, a frisson of danger that flattens his ears and lines his throbbing wound with steel. There is no time for pain when he is the berserker, when his sole purpose is to annihilate.

His bites strike their mark and grim satisfaction bursts through him in the form of a triumphant bellow from his clenched jaws. Now the ticking time bomb inside him has been lit, there's no way he can refrain from completing this job. She has, indeed, poked the sleeping bear in the eye, and behind the veil of his blind anger he cannot focus on what she'd said about her children. He cannot think of his father, what the man may have done, because all that matters is here and now and the fact that he must fucking dominate her for her sins.

She whirls around, using the slippery ground to pivot like a ballerina, and the titan launches his mind towards Vérzés. He snatches the red's eyes, uses them to peer through the blizzard and watch what the mare is doing - she's rearing, and Volterra knows that a direct hit to his back legs could be catastrophic. He reverses suddenly, trying to ram his rump hard into her underside as she's rearing in an attempt to push her over backwards on the slippery ground. Her hooves strike the heavily muscled area of his hindquarters instead of his legs, and the pain is exquisite - thick bruising develops in the area, the muscles stiffening and screaming their objection to their assault. Volterra roars his outrage, a bestial earthquake of a bellow that blasts through the air like a shockwave. What the beast doesn't know is that he's unleashing the power of his rank magic, a battle cry that will hopefully shatter the mare's resolve and shake her confidence with the sheer authoritative volume of it.

Vérzés, tired of being an idle observer, swoops down with an indignant shriek. It's so rare that he is allowed to help his bonded in battle, because the leviathan doesn't believe in using his assets during spars, but this is more than a spar now. This is vengeance, this is wrath, this is a primal need to put this fucking woman in her place for her insults and false accusations, and the red dragon is determined to have a part in it. He drops downwards like a crimson rocket, aiming for the mare's head; he seeks to plunge his clawed forepaws into both of her eyes whilst his jaws open to unleash a savage blast of frost, hoping to freeze her face and cause considerable agony.

Vadir, meanwhile, finds her attack greeted with success; she manages to wrap herself around the griffin and scorch it with her flame, but the creature soon wriggles out of her grasp. In a stark contrast to Vérzés' red-hot rage, Vadir's mind is a sea of calculating calm. She is above the uncontrolled, raw emotions of her red brother and black bonded - she is their intellectual superior and a paragon of self-control compared to their unrefined, untamed tempers. It is not acceptable that the griffin is now heading towards her bonded; utilising every ounce of speed she has, Vadir launches forwards, throwing herself in front of the creature's attack. The griffin's claws and beak just nick her scaled rump and despite her hard golden armour, she feels her energy drain from Wynter's magic. Her wingbeats momentarily slow, but the effect is undoubtedly less catastophic than it would have been had it hit Volterra.

The queen takes the attack as a personal affront, and spins in the air with a banshee's shriek. Her powerful jaws gape again and she aims another blast of flame towards the griffin, hoping that this time she won't miss.

______________

Teaching spar for @Arah !

2/3 - 794 words

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


Spelling/grammar/prose - Again, I love how you write Arah and I really enjoyed reading this post. You've got a lovely flowing writing style and I didn't find anything particularly jarring in it.

I noticed another couple of typos, but again nothing major. Just try to cut as many of them out as possible to avoid deductions for prose/readability :D

'Her ivory coat because stained by the crimson red' - I guess this should have been 'becomes' not 'because'?

'Arah's nose packs up the scent of blood' - Picks up

'Now it is truly to late to back out' - Too late

Emotion - I loved it again, you wrote her emotions really well and I definitely don't see any issues here! :) I especially enjoy the bond between her and Wynter, and the fact she's fighting because of her dead children.

Attacks - I liked the idea behind her attack, spinning around and rearing to try and hit his hocks. Be careful with sentences like these though: 'her petite figure stopping once she is facing the stag's rear'. This could be taken as PP as you're assuming she is able to move around and face his rear without giving him chance to react. Make sure you mention 'attempt' even if it's just a movement and not an attack, just to make sure the judge can't deduct for GM/PP c:

Like I say though, the attack itself was good and well-written. I love strikes to the joints, they're very effective if they hit. I liked the balance of your attacks too, one from Arah and one from her companion. That's definitely better than risking overmoving by throwing in attacks with just the character themselves.

Damage taken - You did well taking the damage I thought. With Vol's high damage stat, for a 2 dice roll you probably want to be taking some light-ish bruising or cuts. You described the pain well, and I think you took a good amount of damage considering the roll.

Be careful here, though: 'blood pools in the grooves made by his teeth until they fill and spill over. Her ivory coat because stained by the crimson red' - Bear in mind that horse teeth are blunt, not sharp. It would be very unlikely that Vol's teeth would make her bleed, more likely they'd just leave some decent bruising.

Other - I liked how she mentioned their differing weights and used that to her advantage to twirl around him, it was a good use of the surroundings as well!

[ 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 ]




Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#6

:: Arah ::

Does he want to send her to join her daughters?

That is not going to happen today.

She misses her daughters terribly but she's not yet had her vengeance. Not yet guided her current daughter through life. The anger within boils, the fire burns it's way through her veins and consumes her. Now it is her driving force through the pain. Flames that allow her to push past the agony along her back and continue in her fight, it eliminates the desire to take flight. Golden eyes flare as she calls him a liar, the fire within his own burn in response. They are low shots, no matter the truth in her words. Arah wants him angry, she wants the rage to blind him. Arah needs him to make a mistake. If the brute manages to keep a cool head he'll crush her. No matter his fighting experience, his height and weight alone are enough to defeat her. A wave of pleasure rolls through her as she sees his shiver. No, it's more of a shudder, a force that has the strength to shatter his rock-hard appearance. Every muscle that made up his entire form, rolled with...what? Displeasure? Rage?

His bites are not enough to stop her and he does not have to speed to entirely escape her either. The doe's movements had been graceful, almost as if she was dancing with her partner. Yet this is no dance for the light hearted as he is not following the intended routine. The suddenness of his movements is almost able to throw her off balance. The beast suddenly reverses, he is close enough to knock her over with his rump and prevent the attack, only does not quite manage the feat. Instead her hooves strike down upon the heavily muscled area of his hindquarters. Not striking the delicate legs of the brute was disappointing yet she believes that she had caused intensive damage. Already, with little more than a hazardous glance, she can see the thick bruising that has begun to develop in the area.

It is then that the beast verbally lets her know of his outrage. The doe stumbles and gasps, suddenly her boiling rage turns to a simmer and her hooves scrabble to remain solid and sure upon the earth. For the sheer volume and brutally that was within the roar shakes her down to the core. It stuns her, shamefully it frightens her.

The attack of his bonded is unexpected. Funnily enough, she ought to thank him from shocking her with the roar, for in those few moments that she slowed down, she heard the dragon's indignant shriek. Golden orbs dart up towards the skies and the sight of his dive is enough to shock her back into action. She needs to fight, this is for her daughters. With a grunt of frustration she waits for the dragon, still acting as if she is too stunned by the brute's roar to act in her defence. At the last moment she springs into action, whipping her head to the left and doing her best to move her eyes out of the dragon's path. The red's savage claws plunge into her neck while his freezing breath freezes along her neck, just below her hair line. The doe screams her rage and her pain. A scream that turns into a cry, not one for mercy but for her to never have to face this situation again. The brutes cry still rips through her soul, it has come close to breaking her will.

Arah will not let this break her, she has to fight on. The doe must return to her family. Angrily she turns towards the dragon at her neck and unleashes a bout of magic, attempting to slip into the creature's mind. 'The beast must hurt. The beast must pay.' Her whispered thoughts quick in an attempt to infiltrate the dragon's mind as soon as possible. 'Rip out his eyes and make him blind.' Arah urges the dragon to turn on his bonded, attack the one that had protected and defended him all his life.

Wynter may have been furious that her attack had missed the brute, yet Arah feels the griffin's pleasure as her attack does hit a target. With a scream that would hurt those with sensitive hearing, she revels in the feeling. Draining her opponents energy gives the creature no guilt. The dragon does not flop meekly in her talons, the powerful jaws open again and another blast of flame crackles towards Wynter. The griffin changes direction suddenly but cannot avoid the full lick of the flames. It singes along her tail, searing the flesh and removing all hair. Wynter swoops high once and again she aims from the brute, her talons reaching for his shoulder.

3/3 - 800 words - URGH late again ;-;
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ 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
#7


The pulsing of rage in his veins helps numb the pain of his wounds, but he can still feel the throbbing of his hindquarters as the bruised muscles clench and seize. His teeth are gritted with pain, knowing that he will struggle to use his rear end to attack with now and lamenting the fact that he loses a large part of his arsenal as a result. The battle is almost at its conclusion, however, and submission is the last thing on Volterra's mind.

Vérzés manages to strike the mare's neck, and the leviathan feels his dragon's smug satisfaction at his success. A cold smile flickers underneath the giant's skulled face, delighting in the sensation of his companion's bloodthirsty thrill, in the primal pleasure of claws sinking into skin. The black titan hauls his body forwards to avoid any further kicks the mare may send at him, but he feels no telltale whistle of air or thudding of hooves on flesh. Instead, he hears a strange humming coming from the segment of his mind where Vérzés' consciousness usually resides, and the stallion's brow furrows with concern as he reaches out tentative mental tendrils towards the abyss. Vérzés? What's going on?

Suddenly the red is in front of him, silhouetted against the driving snow; his claws are outstretched, his face twisted into a pained grimace. "I sorry," he says, and Volterra knows he means it - alarm shoots through the stallion's body and his ears pin in surprise, his heart pulsing and his rage momentarily dulled by the sheer weight of worry for his dragon. It is clear that Vérzés is fighting a battle of his own; he makes odd dipping dives towards Volterra, twisting and wringing his paws as though to keep them from acting of their own accord, emitting anguished little yelps that make Volterra's soul ache with concern.

Suddenly the realisation hits him and with a savage bellow he uses the slippery ground to swing around and try to face the mare, his fury returning with the force of a freight train; it's something she is doing, some manner of evil that she's feeding into his dragon's mind. Vérzés, whatever she wants you to do, don't! You are stronger than her, fight her! He's greeted with a whimper as his red-scaled companion almost ties himself in a knot to avoid doing whatever the mare has commanded him to. Vérzés' love of Volterra, his determination to please his master, is the only thing keeping him from doing what every iota of his body is screaming at him to do; he can hear Arah's voice in his mind and knows that acting on it will offer blessed relief from the hand that seeks to guide his movements, but he can't. How can he harm his bonded in such a way? How can he attack the man who has shared his mind for three years?

So, with a pained howl that wrenches Volterra's heart in two, Vérzés plummets towards the ground. He doesn't arrest his momentum, doesn't slow his descent; with an earth-shaking crash he slams into the floor, ploughing through the snow and colliding with the frozen soil beneath. The impact knocks him unconscious and Volterra's mind screams as his bonded's pain becomes his own; his temper explodes like a landmine, blinding him, obliterating him. How dare this woman accuse him of crimes he did not commit, call him a coward, and harm his dragon? Who does she think she is?

She will fucking suffer for this!

He snarls as the griffin's talons sink unnoticed deep into his left shoulder. They rip through the skin and into thick muscle, sending agony searing through him and ensuring that yet another scar will be added to his collection. Volterra swings his head around, aiming to sink his teeth into the griffin's left wing to try and crush the fragile bones with the force of his jaws. He wants to maim the mare's companion in Vérzés' name, unable to snatch his gaze away from the dragon's prone body.

Vadir, free now from the griffin's attentions, turns her own towards the antlered mare. She swoops low, aiming to approach from behind the unicorn with jaws agape, spewing another blast of flame in an attempt to raze her foe to the ground, to burn her alive. The golden queen has no real love for her crimson brother, but she has every intention of avenging him for the sheer audacity of the woman to enter the mind of a dragon, to try and control the most proud and fearsome of creatures.

______________

Teaching spar for Arah !

3/3 - 765 words

V O L T E R R A

YOU'VE GOT THE WORLD ON ITS KNEES
YOU'RE TAKING ALL THAT YOU PLEASE
image credits


Spelling/grammar/prose - A couple more typos:

'and he does not have to speed to entirely escape her either' - 'the' speed

' For the sheer volume and brutally that was within the roar' - brutality

'Wynter swoops high once and again she aims from the brute,' - for the

But aside from those, I understood what you meant and I enjoyed reading your posts, so didn't find any real issues in this area :D

Emotion - This has been consistently strong throughout, so great job! I had no problem understanding why Arah was feeling the way she was, and you wrote it all well!

Attacks - I love her using her magic on Verzes! Both attacks were clear and concise, although Wynter's attack doesn't specify which shoulder she is attacking so make sure to include this in future fights :D

Damage taken - Vol rolled a 5 damage, which is pretty much the second highest damage you can roll. Added to his high damage stat of 8, you should be looking to take some fairly extensive damage from such a roll. This is the chart I usually use to decide 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

Then I adjust for my opponent's damage stat, so say their damage stat was 3, I'd take less damage from a 4 dice roll than I would if a character with a stat of 8 rolled that. So from Arah's three 5 rolls, I've taken a deep cut to his side, a deep movement-affecting bruise, and deep cuts to his left shoulder. If her damage stat was higher I'd maybe have taken a bone fracture or something from these rolls.

Given this, I don't think you took quite enough damage to fit the roll :( Vol basically had 4 attacks in his post: he attempted to reverse into her and push her over, he used his Battle Cry rank power, Verzes attacked her face, and Vadir attacked Wynter.

For the reverse attack, you acknowledge it: 'The suddenness of his movements is almost able to throw her off balance. The beast suddenly reverses, he is close enough to knock her over with his rump and prevent the attack, only does not quite manage the feat' but don't actually explain WHY it doesn't succeed. Did she hobble backwards and return to all fours? Did she slide to the side to avoid it? When dodging attacks, you need to explain HOW you dodged it, not just act like it missed or you could get a realism and PP deduction :c

You reacted to the Battle Cry attack well, which was great! Then for Verzes' attack you say: 'The red's savage claws plunge into her neck while his freezing breath freezes along her neck, just below her hair line'. It's good that you took the damage but it's not clear how much damage was done - did his claws create deep cuts or shallow ones? Did his frost breath cause extensive damage or just a small surface level amount of freezing? Try to be more specific when taking damage so the judge knows exactly what injuries you have :)

Finally, you did well having Wynter take the flame damage to her tail, but this is only a relatively small amount of damage. Combined with the unspecified amount of damage to her neck, I'd say you took maybe a 3 dice roll's worth of damage. It's harder to judge because it's spread across more than one attack, but if I was you I'd have maybe had her become unbalanced by his reversing, have the Battle Cry shake her resolve and cause Verzes' attack to create thick, deep cuts to her neck that restrict her movement (as for a 5 dice roll from an 8 damage opponent, you really need to be taking wounds that will impact you throughout the fight), then avoided the flame attack altogether.

So you did well reacting to some of the attacks, but I don't think the combined damage was quite enough to fit the dice roll :)

Other - Thanks for the fight Frostie! :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 ]




Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#8

:: Arah ::

The dragon had become her unwilling puppet, she had taken almost complete control of it's mind. The doe grins a savage snarl as the red scaled dragon suddenly turned on his master. The red swooped in front of Tryadon, the beast's form slick, quick and deadly, claws outstretched, it's face looked pained. Yet it is the stallion's reaction that she is looking and waiting for and he does not disappoint her. The black ears pin, was it in rage at his dragon turning on him? Or was it merely surprise that someone he thought he could trust had turned traitor? It didn't matter to the doe she was only interested in his pain, in him suffering the loss of something that he loved.

Though as always, the doe cannot keep control forever and she feels the dragon fighting against her commands. The movements are no longer natural, they are no longer what she wants, he is fighting the control Arah has over his mind. The odd dipping dives that he makes towards the stallion are not with any of the grace he had before, his anguish is clear as the creature is twisting, wringing his paws as if trying to force her out of his mind. Wanting to be able to make movements of his own accord, regain the will and ability to move his own body. She fights the dragon, wanting to keep control.

The dance changes, coming towards the last steps.

The stallion releases a savage bellow and uses the slippery ground to wrench his body around, facing Arah. The doe snarls her rage while continuing the battle for the dragon’s mind. The fury rolled off of the stallion in waves and she knows she’s been caught out. He knows that she’s the one who has control of the dragon and Arah knows that now he’s ready to kill her. The red scaled dragon is literally trying himself into a knot as they pushed and shoved for control of the mind. Arah knew from her own bond with Wynter that there was hardly anything stronger than the magic that bound two souls together. For it was with her companion that she’d fought with, they had stood together against the mightiest of gods and the weakest of souls. There was no one in the world who would ever be closer with Arah’s soul aside from prehaps Maude and Tilney. Yet her family were not bonded to her the way Wynter was. Was she truly willing to sink to the beast's level and harm the innocent creature that was simply fighting for it’s bonded?

The doe releases her hold but it is far too late. Arah knew it was over when the dragon howls and plummets towards the ground. The creature does not slow his descent and the earth seems to shatter beneath her hooves as the dragon slams into the ground. The snow first blasts out around him with the initial impact and then is ploughed around him as he slowly comes to a stop on the frozen ground.
Is the beast unconscious or dead?
Were her daughters deaths worth her turning into this monster?

All Arah does know is that she is exhausted. The snarl from the brute’s lips brings her attention back to the final steps of the fight. Arah must get Wynter and take a final bow to be freed from this battle. Wynter’s talons rip into the skin and thick muscle of the brute’s shoulder and Arah knows he will retaliate. The desperation to stop him from harming her companion takes over, she has to save Wynter. With a scream she leaps forward, the front of her head colliding with Wynter’s body forcing her out of the way. Her leap carries her forward as she attempts to get past the stallion’s assault. His teeth scrape along her jaw, leaving a mark and raising some bloodied bruises.
At first she thinks she has escaped anymore harm, a clean break for her bonded and herself. Yet, Arah does escape the dragon fire, the leap forward had kept her neck, shoulders and most of her rump out of the dragon’s breath. The flames lick down her left leg, searing the flesh and burning away the hairs. The scream that rips out from her throat is not only for the pain of the dragon flames but the pain of loosing herself in this battle.

Skidding to a stop some way from the brute, Arah hopes to bring the fight to a close. Golden orbs flick towards the dragon crumpled on the ground, she holds her breath only to release it when she sees the smallest movement of it's chest. "He's breathing!" Arah didn't know if she was trying to assure and comfort the man who had killed her children.

1/1 - 800 words
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ 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
#9
20+ HP gap. Volterra defeats Arah. Volterra earns 1 VP + 0.5 VP for teaching. Arah earns 1 EXP.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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