The unicorn was a fool, a worthless, idiotic fool. Madyrn shivered, though it was not from fear, as he would have her think. It was from anticipation, from the overwhelming need to crush, kill, destroy this threat that had made herself known throughout Helovia. It would be better to extinguish her now, to exterminate this pest before it had a chance to grow into a large colony of annoying stinging ants - easily squashed when on their own, but more resilient when multiplied.

Madyrn stood before her, his hulking form a horse's length away from her, facing her and her horned crown. They were in the Threshold still, the whereabouts of his brother off to his left - hidden in the shadows of the surrounding forest. The whereabouts of the newcomer - he truly did not know, nor did he care. His focus was now trained wholly upon Ignita, drinking her every breath, pulling knowledge from the simple way in which she held herself.

Where were her weaknesses, so he could exploit them? Where were her strengths, so that he could turn them into weaknesses, and exploit them further? She held a horn upon her crown, and what did he have? Only his battle wits, his years of experience, and his cunning.

The ground they stood upon was loamy, littered with dry fallen sticks and leaves. They seemed to be in a small clearing of sorts, but the footing was still riddled with roots, and large trees loomed over them, creating dappled shadows across both the ground and their dark hides.

"You will fall today, Ignita." Madyrn's deep voice rumbled. "And when you do, you will never be allowed to rise again." Such was his confidence, he slapped a broad, menacing grin upon his lips, smugly baiting the mare to make the first move in this challenge, or else give in now, and save herself a beating.

[ 317 words.
This is an official challenge.
Madyrn is challenging Ignita as a stealth challenge. If he wins, Ignita becomes a Prisoner of the Edge.
Setting: Threshold, afternoon.
0/4 attack posts. ]

larfsalot.deviantart.com

There was something about the way in which one's heart beat quickened when the likelihood of blood loss drew nearer, it caused all of his senses to fire at once. The orange eyes that were encased within his chiselled skull rolled to focus upon the unicorn, his ears slanted so that her words were muffled (though he still heard them). He aimed to block out all other distractions, to maximise his senses that would aid him here, to ready his body that was battle hardened.

This assassin was young still, he could see it in the way she held herself, the way wrinkles did not form around her eyes or her maw. His façade was wrinkled, yes, but each delicate fold held a lesson, a memory, a tale of triumph or misery, and always by the side of his brother. He was alone now, but that would not hinder him - how many countless hours had he spent sparring against his brother? Testing new moves against each other, forever changing the location, the time of day, forever setting new challenges against each other.

Ignita had a lifetime of practise. So did Madyrn. And his lifetime was quadruple hers. And he had a built in sparring partner in his twin. It would take more than her advantage of an extra appendage growing from the centre of her charred crown to knock the stallion down.

Laughter, sounding much like the savage growling of a rabid dog, rumbled within the chest of the stallion, as he registered her words, and saw her preparing to move. She was quick on her feet, he would give her that much, but she was predictable. But of course a unicorn would employ her one advantage, the built in sword upon her crown. It was the method which she chose to use it that amused Madyrn so. She declared for all of the Threshold to hear her intentions, wasted time rising upon her haunches to pat the air with her forelegs, before actually charging towards him, horn poised, ready to pierce his flesh.

He was no idle stallion, however, Madyrn was restless even on a quiet day, hyperactive from a life spent constantly on the move, named for the subtle shadows that his mother orchestrated, but behaving far more like the unpredictable and deadly flames that his father was known for. As she rose into her rear, Madyrn shifted his weight, to the right, angling himself so that it was his left shoulder the mare now charged for.

He did not stop there, however, he knew all too well the pain and detriment to his body a stab from a unicorn's horn could do - memories of Deimos washed through his crown - and so he continued to push himself forward now, dropping his crown low so that his chin was at equal level with his knees, taking his head out of the line of metaphorical fire, grunting as he felt the collision of the mare's glass horn scrape along his left shoulder blade. His motion had altered the angle of her original intentions of stabbing him into something that was mostly deflected by the taut, bony portion of his shoulder, but still the horn was driven with enough force that he felt an old scar, where Deimos had left his mark, reopen.

The wound was not nearly as deep or damaging as it had been at the invasion, however, instead it was more of a shallow gash tracking across the skin of his shoulder, one that would ache more later than it did now, one that would remind Madyrn of its presence with every stride he took now in this challenge. The stallion grit his teeth, continuing to push himself forward, to use the powerful hindquarters lent to him by his heritage.

He forced laughter to slip past his lips again, crazy, manic laughter, as he tumbled forward. With his crown still low, he took a large bounding stride away from his original position, and struck out with both hind feet to attempt to make a strike at where the slimmer mare was last seen, hoping to catch her off balance in the wake of her attack against him, hoping to hear the sound of her body falling to the ground as his hooves collided with her head, or her left shoulder , where he could proceed to beat her, never to rise again. Perhaps a root, hidden beneath the dried leaves, would help him - he could always hope.

The motion of bucking tweaked that fresh, bloody injury, and his cranium snapped upwards in reflex to it, eyes rolling about, the whites evident around their edge, attempting to track the motion of this dark horned wench, who would bow to him before the day was out.

[ 800 words.
1/4 attack posts. ]

larfsalot.deviantart.com

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but suddenly the bitch was standing up in front of him.

The last place he left her was behind him, he had felt the reassuring thud of his hooves hitting her side, but it seemed even fools had luck, for while he had struck with the power of both hindlegs, she had suffered merely a bruise. Frustration immediately set in - it didn't take much for Madyrn - as he pushed a snort from his nostrils in a huff of short surprise at her quick moves.

Perhaps he had underestimated her. He wouldn't do so again.

Tucking his head swiftly down once more, he felt his chin bump against his bulging pectoral muscles, as he eyes tracked her rising motion, he took another swift, light step to the right, angling himself so that she was once again aiming for his left side. It would hurt like a bitch when he completed this move, but he was prepared for the pain, his teeth already grinding in anticipation.

He didn't come up with these ideas on the spot - with the years of battle he had seen, there wasn't much that could surprise him in the way of attacks - the way to react to this one was simple. He could either run away from it, miss it completely, or alternatively, he could use the precarious position this 'assassin' had placed herself in to his own advantage. He grinned to himself - it was obvious, at least to himself and his brother, which choice he would make.

She was of lighter weight than him, something that gave her a clear advantage when it came to fancy footwork - which she had demonstrated here now. But she wasn't that much lighter than him, and any horse placed themselves in a vulnerable position when they decided to take their forefeet off the ground, and rely entirely on the powerful, but not necessarily perfectly steady hindfeet.

Madyrn moved towards the mare now, his previous step away taken only to prevent her horn from happening to give him another scrape on its way up, but now that she was in the air, he ducked quickly to his left - bracing himself for the impact of her hooves he would surely feel, as he attempted to drive the point of his shoulder into the underside of her barrel, the ultimate aim to knock her off balance, to the ground.

There was a theme going on here.

Knock her down, crush her skull into the dirt where it belonged. Madyrn was akin to an efficient bulldozer, happily hoping to destroy everything and all in its path without a second thought.

He felt her hooves crash down upon his back, mostly upon his left side, though the odd paw did scrape across his spine, and they hurt about as much as he expected them to. He grunted with the effort to maintain his forward momentum into her thrashing legs, driving with his hind feet, keeping his head tucked and tilting his muzzle slightly towards her, to his left. While he was there, his lips pulled back, and yellowed teeth tried to snap at the tender flesh upon Ignita's left flank.

He did hope she fell down soon, he was not looking forward to when the rush of battle wore off, to the time when he must eventually sleep, and the stiffness and pain settled in from this effort. For now, the throbbing was constant, but he knew it had been coming, and would not regret his decision in the least should it prove fruitful to his desires of seeing this wretched creature destroyed once and for all.

[615 words.
2/4 attack posts]

larfsalot.deviantart.com

It was his left shoulder that connected with the side of her barrel, and though he was in a world of pain that brought tears to his eyes and blurred his vision for a moment, he grinned as he felt the satisfying connection. Yes, he triumphed to himself, still pushing with all his might to use the mare's imbalance against her. He wondered at how she managed to hold her ground as well as she did, being lighter than he and in a precarious position, he thought himself far stronger than her, certainly he would have been able to knock her to the ground with this move?

Apparently not.

As he felt the shift of her body away from him, he grew gleeful for a moment, grinning broadly in triumph, before realising that she had managed to regain her footing beneath her and scramble away. In the step she took gather herself Madyrn's head dropped down before swiftly snapping up, as the tension across his back and shoulder came into sharp, shooting focus and sent pain coursing up and down his spine. With his cranium so high, the kick that Ignita then made collided with the plump pectoral muscles that made up his chest.

Pain crackled across his chest like wildfire, and for a second the stallion was stunned between the pain crippling him from two many directions - his back, his shoulder, his chest, - he would later think he was fortunate to still have his legs working, and his head still in one piece, but right now, the pain only infuriated him, igniting a haze of rage within him. Blinking back the tears that sprung to his eyes, the stallion did not hesitate beyond that second of painful shock before retaliating.

There was no thought process now. Instincts driven by pure lust for blood took over. The stallion became a beast, a machine, a predator set on its prey. A madman's laugh choked its way out of his muzzle as he powered forward now, his brother watching thoughtfully from the sidelines, thanking the lords that his brother's legs were at least still in one piece, as well as his head. Maskan knew what was coming. Ignita was not aware of the true power of Madyrn, the blood that the brothers shared, the fury that was only ever loosely contained within this steed named for shadows but burning like a flame.

Her kick left bruising across his shoulder, and made his gait uneven - which would have been noticeable if he was trotting a perfect circle. However, right now, he was simply charging forward, a scramble of legs powering on, it didn't matter to him how they did it, only that they did it, and fast. He bolted towards the area where he saw her hooves retreating, and then took a leap, striking out with his forelegs at her hocks, hoping to disable, crush, destroy the joint and render the mare a cripple.

Simultaneously, he reached out with his teeth once more, hungry, thirsty to taste her blood once again, as any predator would be. As he was poised behind her (the last time he checked), he hoped to bite down with his vice-grip jaws at her left buttock, but there was always the chance her tail would sweep in his way and he would get nothing but a mouthful of hair. He could feel his heart pounding in the ears that were slicked back along his skull, as the pain across his chest throbbed, ached, reminded him constantly of its presence.

Blood probably dripped down his shoulder, but the beast was too preoccupied, too consumed by the rage, the battle, the lust for having the opportunity to make this engagement a kill. Hooves dug into the earth below, as he braced himself for an impact he hoped would come, behaving much like an out of control bulldozer flattening an obstacle that was interrupting his otherwise perfect landscaping. It was time to do some weeding, time to put those years of training towards good, for his family, for the Qian, but most importantly, for himself.

[ 686 words.
3/4 attack posts. ]

larfsalot.deviantart.com

Madyrn was like one of those robots that had malfunctioned, with flailing limbs and a voice that shouted a warning to all: crush, kill, destroy. His 'off' switch was only found when his enemy fell, there were no troubleshooting options, not when he was this far gone into his rampage. Maskan sighed from the sidelines, wondering what damage his beloved brother would reap, upon himself and his foe. He had to contain himself on the sidelines, to fight to urge to school his brother to see past the rage that drove him. But there was no point, no real use to it - Madyrn's greatest ally was not his brother, it was in fact his anger, and that he was able to harness it, to use it, to direct it towards goals and tasks that would ultimately do the world good. It wasn't always this way, and Maskan shuddered to recall those days where only he could stand the rage, only he could subdue his brother, school him in the art of refined shadow walking like their mother and sisters had so easily mastered. Madyrn held too much of Voraer in him, too much of a temper, his fuse too short, his reaction too explosive.

Satisfaction rolled through him, almost as pleasurable as an orgasm, as one of his hooves connected directly with the bony joint of her left hock, the other leaving a scrape along her right leg. Surely that would render her leg useless, unable to hold her weight, unable to do anything but take his continual beatings. He would not rest until he was allowed to pound her thick skull into the ground, repeatedly. Lips barely grazed over their mark, but he was too gleeful to notice the shortcomings of that strike, instead he watched his little prey struggled to find her feet once more. But she did find them, and without stopping to wonder how his near-perfect strike upon her hock joint did not hinder her more, he simply became enraged again, gearing up to follow in her steps, to stay close to the hind end that he had disabled. Orange eyes caught a glimpse of the horn she wielded at him once again, and, vulnerable as he was to mental onslaughts, memories flooded through his cranium of the piercing blue sword Deimos expertly used against him, the magic that nearly killed him. It was not fear that filled Madyrn then, but a very keen sense of weariness; he was not about to let that horn come anywhere near him.

When she had turned to her left, he had followed her closely, swinging himself around on rough steps so that he was still mostly behind her, not next to her, not allowing her to line up that pesky face ornament to his shoulder again. His legs were still working fine, and though he ached, he could still use what were his most effective weapons so far. Just as she lunged for him with her crown, he struck out with his right foreleg at her left hock, hoping to truly crush it beyond repair this time, using the leg that had slightly more strength and co-ordination left in it due to the fact that his left side was aching more than his right. Her aim was diverted with his repositioning, as he was driving forward and she too, they moved in a sort of circled around one another - he felt her horn glance off the left side of his rump the same time he attempted to destroy what remained of her left hind leg. Dust, dirt and debris was stirred up from the motion, and the rhythm of Madyrn's heart beat was loud and growing ever faster in his ears, breaths were coming in deep rasping gasps that burned with effort, fatigue, as well as the fact that laughter still rang from his lips every other exhalation.

Even madmen have their triumphs. Madyrn would be one of them.


[662 words.
4/4 attack posts. ]

larfsalot.deviantart.com

I g n i t a | M a d y r n
- - - - -
By my verdict MADYRN is the winner.
Madryn has received one VP and will take IGNITA as his prisoner.

IGNITA -- post 1 (attack only)

[Realism]
+ 1| Attack: horn stab thingamajig.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
- 1| Flow: this post was quite choppy and, despite clear in what happens, it gets "broken up" by frequent typos. I suggest running your posts through a spell check to get rid of all the annoying little errors which brings your score down.

---

MADMASK -- post 1

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: angling away from the horn. Though, I do not think it was a rear per se, as much as a jump forward.
+ 1| Attack: bucking.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
+ 1| Flow, though you did have a few places where the sentences got so long my mind almost ran aground.

---

IGNITA -- post 2

[Realism]
- 1| Defense: ultimately, I have a few issues with how you took this kick. Given that Madyrn has taken a "large, bounding leap forward", and Ignita a canter stride, I do not think he'd hit the front part of her barrel, but rather her thigh or something. Also, I know that Ignita is of a semi-sturdy build, but when a horse gets hit by another horse like this, they typically lurch a little. You interpreted the pain/bruising/effect well, though, even if I disagree with the placement.
- 1| Attack: the rear. While this is a decent attack, I was at first a little confused as to what she was doing. However, my issue is that nothing dictates that Madyrn will be standing still, and merely halting and turning around will most likely not put you close enough to pummel his hind end.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
0| Flow: the spelling was a lot better, but here and there your sentences became too long. It would flow better if you chopped some of them in half.

---

MADMASK -- post 2

[Realism]
0| Defense: sidling away. Ignita was actually coming from behind you, more or less, but you seem to act as if she showed up in front of you. However, it was a good defense, and you took the hooves-to-the-spine in a realistic fashion.
+ 1| Attack: trying to knock her off balance.
+ 1| Attack: bite to flank.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
+ 1| Flow.

---

IGNITA -- post 3

[Realism]
0| Defense: bitten flank. I feel like you could've elaborated more upon it, pain-wise and if it affected you in some way.
+ 1| Defense: half-sitting down from the push before twisting away, though it was his left side coming into you.
0| Attack: kicking out. Sadly, this lacked direction - did you spin away to your left or right before kicking? Are you standing parallel to him when you kick, or, did you turn the other way so you're standing more like nose-to-tail? So which way is the kick coming from?

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
0| Flow: you have some issues with typos and a bit choppy transitions, so try to work on that!

---

MADMASK -- post 3

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: taking the kick to the chest.
+ 1| Attack: trying to punch her hocks.
+ 1| Attack: trying to bite her left buttock.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
+ 1| Flow.

---

IGNITA -- post 4

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: taking the hooves to the hocks. I think you treat the injured one well.
+ 1| Defense: turning away from the bite/catching the tail.
+ 1| Attack: trying to stab him again.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
+ 1| Flow. There were a lot less typos in this one!

---

MADMASK -- post 4

[Realism]
+ 1| Attack: strike to hock.
- 1| Defense: I honestly do not see how her head would be near his hind end, if he's using his right leg to strike her. It means he has to stand at an angle to her, to reach properly, and given how he's described to keeping away from her head/more like right behind her, I don't see how she'd even be able to glance off his hindquarters.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy read.
+ 1| Flow.

---

IGNITA -- post 5 (defense only)

[Realism]
- 1| Defense: While I think that, given the circumstances, it is a plausible defense move to keep Madyrn away, you messed up the timing a bit. Madyrn struck just as Ignita lunged forward to stab again, but you play it as being a pause in between, which is incorrect.

---

IGNITA

[Bonus]
0| Nothing of note.

[Injuries]
0| Nothing of note.

[Creativity]
0| Nothing of note.

Comments: You've got the makings of a good fighter, however, you have a few things to learn! First and foremost I suggest that you take care in re-reading, as well as spellchecking, your posts, as you lost a few unnecessary points to typos and awkward transitions. Try to make sure that everything flows! Secondly, you have a good grasp on horse fighting, but, when it comes to writing it down you run into a few problems. Think about the timing of the fight, and of the space between you and your opponent. Sometimes you need to write "I took a few steps to try and bring us close together again", as often your opponent will glide away a little after an attack, as momentum carries them past. Keep that in mind, and try to make sure you are always clear with left/right, as it's vital to know which way you're facing/which side you're attacking, etc. On the whole, you improved a lot through the fight, and your fourth post was by far the greatest! Keep practicing!

---

MADMASK

[Bonus]
+ 1| Surroundings: you mentioned it a little.
+ 2| Breed: trying to use Madyrn's larger size to an advantage.

[Injuries]
0| Nothing of note.

[Creativity]
0| Nothing of note.

Comments: On the whole, well done! You've got a good grasp on fight mechanics, and your posts are well written, with clear presence. I really do not have much to comment on, as you made no glaring errors in the fight, so just keep up the good work!

---

TOTAL
Ignita - 60
Madyrn - 72