| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE |
| Sica |
02-19-2013, 12:48 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-13-2013, 02:56 PM by Official.)
This is a spar. 800 words. 3 posts. Magic allowed. Takes place in the Basin at twilight.Heather said it was okay Deimos is there already :3 She's not wearing armor to fully test her magic.
F A E L E N E
drawn to things not good for me
|
The tired sun was falling in the west, giving last of its touch to eastern lands, and a faint glow to those that hung closer to its descent. Night came quicker to the Basin, but this overcast there was only dim shadows, and no annoyance of direct light. Twilight, the red maned's favorite time. When the sun and night touched, saying hello and goodbye. A time when the Thief would usually be on the prowl, but instead she had a request of the Basin's General. An intriguing test, one that might be daring death. The risk only made it more interesting, and what better way to see her newly gifted power. A spar with the leader of their soldiers. The clashing emotions of fright, and anticipation lined in her gut. How they often went hand in hand. Unlike the time with Cinneviam, Faelene was more intimidated. It wasn't necessarily by size, he was taller, more muscular defined. Deimos was not an easy so to read, and one of few words with a wicked power to command. When silver eyes swept across the field to his steel colored coat, to the tip of his spiraled horn, and blue eyes she felt like she was provoking hell's angel. There was none to witness, but the forest to her far left. Since this was practice she had chosen good open ground, but in the privacy of the forest. The springs were somewhere behind him, to her right, and she wondered if she would need a visit to them when this was done.
It was her first move, and her mind formed a couple pictures. The choices she had made when against a red stallion, and another of black and white. What they had done, and what she could use to her advantage. It was hard in a spar when one did not want to maim, and kill their opponent, causing harm with no warrant. Touching Deimos in any way was likely to cause a backward reaction. How she would have to remind herself, or would she? She had never lingered close.
Quickly, she cleared her mind sucking one last measure of air. Her brows creased, gaze flickering from one point of shoulder to the other. The breath built in her chest, and her forelegs grabbed for ground, hind pillars shoving her into a canter. Faelene was all about head on, and wanted him to believe that intention. There was no clue to what he would do, but she doubted he would stand still. Regardless, she drove straight to the General. The length of her neck lowered, ears flattened to neck, and her teeth bared, ready for flesh. The lady would drift to his left, turning her neck, and tipping her nose inward, then angling back out in an attempt for her horn to cut across his rib cage.
[Word Count:479]
[Attack:1/3]
|
 |
![[Image: faeleneicon.png]](http://i800.photobucket.com/albums/yy285/schwartze_asylum/faeleneicon.png)
| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
A General’s role encompassed many things: protection over their herd, commander of military forces, and sometimes, the practice and training upon those willing to rehearse for future warfare. He did not refuse Faelene’s request, the inclination and desire to test one’s magic and skills was an honorable feat and needed to be acknowledged. Truthfully (though he would never utter the sentiment aloud), after coming to a draw with Lace in his fight for freedom, the monster needed another performance to ascertain his own strength and dominance. How does one still lead a militia when they cannot ascertain their own liberation? What measured his success, the blood of the enemy, the scar of the opponent, or the victories tied to his name? Amidst these broiling frustrations that seared and scorched his veins, the pulsing, wicked madness of the aforementioned spar came back upon his membrane – he would have to be careful, cautious. This was not an invasion nor a challenge for release, he couldn’t spike his horn into her chest, pierce her barrel or watch, wait, until she was claimed by the Reaper, a fellow herd member would have to be respected, trusted and given allowance of lesser strikes. He very much doubted he’d be revered for slashing their Thief into ribbons, no matter how fast the Mender got to her. All of these views combined would be cumbersome factors, but with his motivations woven into their components, something ideal would come out of the passing crusade for both of them.
He didn’t know much about their sneaky, cloak and daggered swindler. Staring upon her now, they were roughly the same height and build, muscled but slender, the loss and gain over swiftness or strength were pinnacles he didn’t bother collecting; the skirmish would have to be calculated over other things. Was she experienced in the art of battle, and was busy swaying and deceiving him with ineptitude while she was truly gifted? If she longed for practice of her enchantments, would she faint under the prowess of his? How tough was she, how strong was her mind, her body and her soul, to endure and wish for the aim of his vehement derision? Did she choose the hour, the place, to her advantage, or did she merely desire the ability to polish and perfect something left idle?
Faelene delivered the answer to his muted queries as she began her assault. She launched across the open field, driving straight for his frame. Did she expect him to remain where he was, poised and eager to be sieged – such actions would be foolish and unwise, not only would he be maimed, mindless, and unintelligent, it also didn’t mimic the oeuvre of wars, campaigns and crusades. He would give her a touch, a taste, of the flourish of combat, the infernal, toxic heat of conflict and hostility, the brutal, barbaric, savage reign of altercations and clashes. As she neared his left, swift, quick, swiveling her horn inward and out, he shifted his front and barrel towards the right, hooves hastening to other soil, longing to miss her intended strike. He felt her sword cut into his left haunch, a brewing, tumultuous pain, not fleeting, not fleeing, that reminded him that he was not to underestimate her. He would treat her as a worthy opponent, a teacher holding a student at an arm’s length.
He retaliated rapidly. Using her close proximity, he urged his hind towards her passing frame, felt the strain, the tug, the building groan encased in his throat from the binding ache that traipsed along his slashed flesh, aiming a kick towards her left side. It wouldn’t be as high or forceful as he would have liked, she was a comrade and he’d already been given this loathsome laceration. He couldn’t force his malice, his menace, his hate into each attack (what is a General that butchers his own people?), but he’d still give her assailments, assaults and pummels, train her to brawl and exchange blows. Refusing to allow this new injury to restrain him entirely, he swerved his front end back around towards her frame, and if she was still in the near vicinity, hopefully find her left haunch ensnared with his enamels.
[703 words. 1/3. 0/1 magic used.
As Faelene comes straight at Deimos, he swerves his front and barrel to the right. Faelene misses his rib cage, but ends up cutting a portion of his left haunch. To retaliate, Deimos aims a kick towards her passing left side, and then moves his front back towards the left, hoping to snag a portion of her traveling left haunch.]
|
|
OOC Commentary:
Ah, here we are. First of all, let me say that I’m so very pleased to spar with you, and glad you’ve given me the opportunity to impart my (limited) wisdom and offer me the chance to practice as well.
Let’s start off with what you’ve done well. I like Faelene’s motivations, you haven’t forgotten what she’s here for, what brings her to practice with Deimos, what she hopes to achieve and her fears. You haven’t forgotten snagging your extra points for surroundings or breed analysis. You also indicated the direction of your attack. Keep at this, please. It will only bring you future glory. ;D
Now, let’s go to the attack portion. While you have indicated a direction, left, which allows me to formulate counter-defense, you also added some things that left me confused.
When you mention: The length of her neck lowered, ears flattened to neck, and her teeth bared, ready for flesh. I naturally presume she’s going to be using her teeth, biting him somewhere. I didn’t see any of this afterwards, and so I’m left to assume nothing of this nature happened. If you’re preparing for an attack, and then hoping to achieve it, make sure you indicate that. Leaving it up to your opponent to figure it out is not ideal.
This portion: The lady would drift to his left, turning her neck, and tipping her nose inward, then angling back out in an attempt for her horn to cut across his rib cage. also left me confused. I had Deimos take your attack, but pay attention to the words you use. You said she angled her nose in, which would lead her horn in(?), but then back out, which would leave me to think that her horn is angled back out. If she’s angling her horn out while coming at him, it shouldn’t actually touch him. It would be scraping at air. Make sure you are clear and precise in your moves. Its clear that she’s trying to get his ribs with her horn, but not clear how she’s doing so.
Lastly, I know this stems from personal preference, but I always include a battle summary at the end of my posts. Some don’t, which is fine, and I’m not saying you have to, but it helps to clear up any confusion, which magic was used at which time, etc.
Happy sparring!
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE |
| Sica |
F A E L E N E
drawn to things not good for me
|
The General did not have a running mouth, the blue light of his eyes spoke of his intelligence, hinted at quiet thoughts. There was always a falsification on the history that had made them, who they were, and what they believed. Far as she was from being a child, her mind was endless questions, always craving for knowledge. Yet,curious as she may be about him, this point and time would be more about physical movement, the strength of muscle, and the swift ability of limbs. Was he more fluid, strong? Quicker than her? She was going to become better acquainted with his fighting strategy, and how she might better her own. In her mind one couldn't practice enough just because perfection was never attainable. Faelene, unlike most real perfectionist who did not dare try fearful of failure actually forced herself, convinced trying was a lot more succeeding than doing nothing. Staying sharp, ready, and taking on different opponents was necessary. Even if she yet to be the victor, one small step at a time she planned to continue growing, and learning. There was always something knew to learn. One with wings one day she vowed to take, but one with more experience, an ally would serve the purpose of today. The Thief had to be prepared for all sorts, and rather be as fit, at her best as she could. Faelene was sure another battle would come, and never again did she want to be forced to her knees, the enemy striking behind her at the mercy of her companions to save her. In that thought she found resolve, let it grow in her, felt it give her strength and courage to at least prove to Deimos she wasn't a woman without use.
While Faelene entered his personal space, his gray form shifted, but her horn had cut against his hind quarters. She made sure to tip her head straight when she felt it prick, not to drive it deep, or further. There was no need for major damage. Though far from her intended mark, she had not expected a dummy for a partner. Psyche had placed him in his position for great reasons, and in a real battle she was glad he did not stand on the opposing side. Even now it was hard not to be intimidated, not to think what could happen, and have a taste of fear. Her limbs continued to pull her away, feeling his own assault was about to happen. She was right, before her escape she would not slip by without pain of her own, his hooves clipped the back of her thigh, causing an instant ache, fiery and sharp. Quickly as he turned, she did the same,getting away from his attempted bite, but turning in the opposite direction. With black legs bending beneath her, she did a roll back to meet him sooner. It was a very ungraceful twirl with her new infliction twinging in her muscle, but she didn't care when she faced the black maned stallion. Faelene remained in motion, shoving from the cool ground, already setting up her next attack. She was going to try to get close again. With lips pulled back, her ears flat to her neck, she half reared, lunging toward him with her front hooves attempting to drive down, toward his left, front knee, while her neck snaked out, trying to reach his cheek or even neck with her teeth. Somewhere aware the light kept dimming above them.
[Word Count:587]
[Attack:2/3]
|
|
| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
Fighting a fellow patriot was more difficult than Deimos had surmised. For most of his life, he’d assaulted enemies, adversaries, rivals that bellowed from across shores, that instigated and pledged to maul, that dragged their carcasses across his lands and claimed them as their own. They were much easier to siege against, to pour all of his wrath, loathing and contempt into, to savagely beat into the ground, into the soil, to allow their bones to rest in a final, chilling repose. He couldn’t do that here and now, and it was a strange, foreign responsibility resting on his shoulders, to not brutalize and condemn the creature that longed to drag their teeth across his hide, that swiped their sword along his pelt, that aimed to scorch and inflict his being. He had to remind himself, in the trickling, heady moments of battle, that there were no war drums here, no fuel rankling against his veins, and no inferno blazing in the heat of the skirmish. It was practice, a rehearsal for the future, a trial to ensure that the Thief would not be a lingering, listless, and useless rapier amongst an unraveling crusade. Still, it took all of his composure and calm amidst the calamity to not swing his own cutlass against her sides, to not posture it along her fanciful movements, to not feel the nefarious pulse of his ferocity building, brimming, brewing until there was naught but the brutal, barbaric froth of his hostile grandeur. He clenched his dentals together, felt the tightness of his jaw loom over the impending vexations, and continued onward, the silent teacher, the poised instructor.
She came at him again, no longer draped in refined grace. He’d given her a touch of the battlefield, an evening of the score, but she returned willingly, brandishing her motions amongst the harsh coil of the twilight. When she raised her body, longing to settle another wound amongst the foreboding, gathered lacerations, he found his chance. The menacing monster twisted his frame towards her, grappling in close proximity again, dancing with the devils of pain and torment to find his own niche. While her hooves scraped down along his left knee, ensuing another twist, another burst of pain, he used his left shoulder, aiming to shove his weight into her uplifted structure, to unbalance, to subdue, to topple her into a reign of terrain, grass, gravel and soil (would she break, would she fall, would she find herself immersed with the tundra instead of the sky?). He lowered his neck, in hopes that her teeth, becoming dangerously close to his countenance, would not entrench themselves too deeply into his pelt. He felt them graze the pinnacle of his nape, tufts of hair billowing, a tiny prick of an ache forming amongst the crest; a far more satisfying appeal than the earlier siege along his haunch, still smarting, still cursing. He used the opportunity of their shared closeness, a useful moment where his hind would not have to shirk his movements, and a lowered neckline, to extend his maw, biting and nipping towards her right shoulder and knee.
[521 words. 2/3. 0/1 magic used. As Faelene half-rears towards Deimos, he feels her hooves scrape against his left knee, but uses the chance to undermine her movements by shoving his left shoulder towards her body (hoping that this may force her to become unbalanced, topple, fall over, etc.). Her teeth, despite his lowered neck, still manage to graze the top of his nape. Using his lowered neck, he then tries to bite at her right shoulder and knee.]
|
|
OOC Commentary:
I’ll use the same format as I did before. Here we go:
I still believe you’ve done very well with Faelene’s motivations. She wants knowledge, she wants to get better, and you know your character. Some people still can’t figure theirs out and get lost in the murkiness of their inspirations. I think you’ve done so brilliantly and have managed to master Faelene in a completely different setting from the norm. Faelene is true to form, uses her experiences from prior battles, and wants to apply this opportunity to gain new ground and information. Sounds like a sneaky, clever Thief to me. I also enjoyed the important aspect of noting she didn’t want to purposefully inflict too much pain on Deimos; much like his own struggles, she’s remembering he’s a herd mate, here to help, not to induce too much harm.
There was also the tiny snippet of fear that’s sequestered itself inside her. Don’t be afraid to play on that if something does become intimidating – it only speaks more for your character and their motivations. In a real battle, they have every fight to be afraid.
You also were careful to mention her wound and how it affected her movement. Remember it in future posts as well – you don’t need to tell us the mark was so barbaric that she could barely walk, but make note of it when you can so that the moment, and pain, becomes more real. As time goes on, it will hurt more, movements will become slower, more labored, not as refined, and you’ve done a good job trying to emote that.
As far as attacks go, I like to play on where roleplayers have left their characters wide open. If I were you, I would have used Deimos’s position, behind Faelene’s haunches, to kick him towards the face, chest or shoulder area. In that case, you don’t have to worry about additional defense, and it lines you up for another attack. Regardless, I still thought your attacks were clever, because they forced me to have Deimos take damage in order to attack where you left Faelene open. The next time you attack, I want to challenge you on thinking where I might have left Deimos open. How can you find a way to play on where I’ve left a weakness?
Quickly as he turned, she did the same,getting away from his attempted bite, but turning in the opposite direction. - Even if you say “opposite” direction, I want you to remember to say right or left. I had to go back to my prior post to remember which direction Deimos was coming from, and thereby now knowing yours. Don’t leave it up to me to go wandering back over information I’ve provided you. Each post can be a stand-alone fixture, so make sure you pinpoint exactly what you want to say each and every time.
With lips pulled back, her ears flat to her neck, she half reared, lunging toward him with her front hooves attempting to drive down, toward his left, front knee, while her neck snaked out, trying to reach his cheek or even neck with her teeth. This is just me being nit-picky, but, horses don’t have “back” knees. They only have front knees, so you don’t need to say front. (but yay for including which knee – yes!)
Also beware superfluous information. I’m not sure what Somewhere aware the light kept dimming above them this is supposed to entail. Questions running through my head included: Wasn’t it already dark? Is it getting darker? Am I not supposed to be able to see her coming? But horses can see in the dark..so… Basically, I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I ignored it.
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE |
| Sica |
"Somewhere aware the light kept dimming above them."
It was twilight when they started,the sun setting but not yet down, so
that's why I threw that in there. Trying to describe how it is getting darker
in their settings. Probably not the best place for it :X
Sorry for the wait. Been sick and wanted to give a coherent post. I hope I
got it right he's sorta coming head on/bit to the right at her. Shoving shoulder into her chest, (since she would be falling down from her rear)while his head down, reaching to bite her right side.
F A E L E N E
drawn to things not good for me
|
Faelene might have it easier than her comrade. More controlled fights with her fellow Unicorns, than taking it first hand with an opponent she wanted to see withering in pain. For her there was the familiar sense to test without hate, without a dark attempt for scores of blood and pain. It had been awhile for her since she had attacked with every fiber of her being seeking harm, and torture because of hate, and contempt. With these spars there was always a bit of mixed emotions. If she could mark her partner, giving them smaller grievances than she could take on an opponent who really meant her harm. That idea formed glee, pride for striking, but the same time distress for marring the skin and flesh. Since they had their doctor, it might ease her mind, but it did not. Faelene never cared to deal out grief, especially without reason and even then it depended. Since the General wasn't a paper doll she wasn't as conflicted as she could have been. Still, it never occurred to her he might not have volunteered himself in this way. How dangerous was it? There was nothing stealing her breath, but the force of her movements. A piece of her mind might hunger for how he did remain in control, it was a question hung in the back of her head. Deimos though deadly didn't strike her as the sole keeper of death and demise, and yet he came damn close. There were deep cords of fear lingering in her heart, seeing the gleam from his own horn, imagining what it would be like striking through her. Then there were the brooding eyes like the menacing depths of the ocean that called to take you deep and fill your lungs.
When she was in the tight proximity, felt the clip of her hooves graze off his left knee, how swift he had made his own move. Her teeth had found a place atop the gray crest, but it was short lived. There is nothing to hold, and she doesn't try. She might regret it later, but his head moving down, he was coming at her. The idea of toppling over called the magic inside, but she had no time to create a barrier. He carried more weight than her, and his shoulder struck at the right side of her chest, causing her to briefly lose her balance. So as her front hooves fall, the right clips off the side of the hard hoof wall, sliding into the thick grass.There was no sudden relief, Faelene already knows his snaking muzzle is coming, and instinctively she cast her right leg back up to shield off the own draw of his teeth. She failed, and felt the sudden sting, the nasty, needle piercing of his incisors. Short squeal burst from her lips, and she didn't hesitate to pull her knee higher, her hoof uncurling and launching she hopes at his forearm. She then reaches down with her mouth for a taste of his neck again if it would be in reach.
[Word Count:518]
[Attack:3/3]
|
|
| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
They were close, unwinding snakes and chains rattling their bones to the din of rehearsing battles; and while they crashed amongst the fray he felt his marks ensnare. Were this not practice, he would have been further ignited, incensed, by the clatter of hoof beats, the sinuous swing of war, the tumultuous duel of dominance and superiority. He would have tried to puncture, pierce, lacerate until his opponent were mere laces, strings of marrow and sinew, left her a blood-coated martyr eager for the gallows. She had an advantage in being a fellow herd member, belonging to the same chilling earth, the same frigid bravado, the same dangerous whims and fortitudes of creatures destined for something grander, greater. Loyalty had been instilled, resonating deep into the core of his frozen heart, murmured close to his ears as a boy, so even when potentially blinded by the armaments, the sieges, the rise and fall of campaigns, he didn’t dare drag the Thief to her demise.
Her right foreleg came abruptly towards his left front, and he wondered briefly if this was her strategic ploy, to continue launching at the same wounded, smarting side. He’d lost hair upon his neck, and his left side had been scraped upon, knee and haunch irked, exasperated, disgruntled by her machinations. It would have been something he’d enacted if this was truly war, to find weakness and instigate, terrorize, further fuel the binding nuance of pain and agony. However, to find it grazing his body was a nuisance, especially when he kept himself so tightly controlled, so rigid, so composed. He would not dare show the glimpse of discomfort towards any opponent, but she’d done well to poise vexing damage upon his figure. The monster swerved to the right, upon the haunch that wasn’t aching, wasn’t irritated, but still felt the graze of her hoof along the same knee, a bruise ever blooming. He released one nettled snort, the rough, gruff hymns of a growl forming in his throat, and didn’t have time to do much more than swing his neck towards the right once more, as Faelene’s ivories reached for his darkened nape. They were left to tease the air with their ambition, clipping at wind and sky.
Still near, he was left with the unruly tides of his brewing ferocity clinging to veins and muscles, pulsing, pervading, waiting, longing, and yearning to be unleashed. She’d asked for it, the unholy vehemence of his enchantments, the malicious, menacing waves of satanic decree and violent gifts. She wanted to test the weight of her own dominion, the gliding sentiments of sorcery bonded to her soul. Just how far did she want to feel the weight of his might? Did she want death to coast over her heart, chisel it into silence, so that the beats no longer resounded in her chest? Did she want the still, silent reverie of one last breath, did she wish to taste the toxic doldrums of a futile dream? What did she want of him – to burn the core of her being until it was naught but an otherworldly design, noted for tombs instead of shadows? It was still odd to him to think of being wary, to even admit that he was being cautious, for only in rare circumstances did he ever lock away the brutality, the savagery, the tangled barbs of his intimidating, ominous endeavors. Ophelia had not been the subject of hesitation, nor had Ricochet, Lace, or even Mauja upon first glimpse and sighting – was he so entrenched into the whims of herd life now that he actually faltered, actually fluctuated, stalled, and wavered over the thought of releasing the fury of his magic? Even amidst these thoughts, he gave her what she’d wanted. The lingering weaponry loomed in his frame, then slunk across the grounds, coiled, viperous, sinuous art of lethality and pestilence. It was not the grandeur of his overwhelming treachery, but the serpentine dance of potential, driven by brawn and her desire to feel the ache, a lighter glimpse of a power, if truly allowed to slay the earth, would rattle the doors of many catacombs. It crawled, slithered, and lavished the grounds, performing its decadent, sinful waltz towards her hooves.
[3/3. 706 words. 1/1 magic used.
As Faelene’s right foreleg comes towards his left knee, he attempts to dodge to the right, but still feels her scrape along the already bruised part. He continues swerving to the right as she aims to bite at him, and her teeth miss his neck. While in close proximity, Deimos gives Faelene what she wished for: a light dose of his deadly magic.]
|
|
OOC Commentary:
My apologies for taking so long. D:
I liked the way you strove to meet my challenge. I thought it was clever to continue assaulting the same side – after all, if you bludgeon one side enough, its quite difficult to use it.
Faelene’s motivations/emotions still ring loud and clear. Truthfully, she may not have it as rough as our dear General, who, for the most part, has to contain all his warlike impulses. I enjoyed the way you showed that she isn’t a creature of hate and doesn’t need that incentive or inspiration to continue the spar. Both of these characters are still comrades, and while she doesn’t view him as a weak foe, she’s still wary and cautious. Too easily herd mates may actually be sucked into some need for dominance over the other in spars, and she doesn’t do that. You don’t ever deviate from her character.
Some sentences left me a little confused, and I had to reread them several times to, hopefully, decipher their true meaning.
So as her front hooves fall, the right clips off the side of the hard hoof wall, sliding into the thick grass. - I wasn’t sure whose hoof wall this was. I’m assuming it was Faelene’s, and didn’t count it as powerplaying or another attempt at an attack. Pay very close attention to how you word things and make sure you always have a possessive. If you had said it was coming at “her hoof wall”, I would have figured out that she had clipped her own hooves a lot quicker. I also didn’t know which hoof was clipping off of which (don’t forget those directions!). While that may not be information I deem necessary, it’s certainly something the judges will want to know if they’re counting up whose injured where.
There was no sudden relief, Faelene already knows his snaking muzzle is coming, and instinctively she cast her right leg back up to shield off the own draw of his teeth. She failed, and felt the sudden sting, the nasty, needle piercing of his incisors. Short squeal burst from her lips, and she didn't hesitate to pull her knee higher, her hoof uncurling and launching she hopes at his forearm. She then reaches down with her mouth for a taste of his neck again if it would be in reach. I don’t know if I would have used the same defensive strategy. Instead of drawing her leg up, you could have simplified it by cutting towards the opposite direction (left), and thereby possibly lessening the damage. I can see why you would want to use it to your advantage with your next attack – when she strikes out at him with the same leg – but if she’s already been hurt on that limb, she may not be able to use it as effectively. How does she draw it as high, if she was just injured on it?
Now that you’re in your final post, be sure to include the following:
- Defenses, and only defenses. Don’t bother unleashing new attacks because nothing will come out of them. :)
- Reflect on her injuries. This can be an opportunity to remark on any pain she feels, making the post more realistic. Something’s bound to be smarting. ;D
Thank you so much for your patience, helping me practice, and being willing to take advice. I’m excited to see Faelene use her magic. :D
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE |
| Sica |
No problem. I loved seeing more into Deimos, and threading with you all to
myself. :D
I really didn't want this to be awful, and worked on it for the past week. :X
I want to thank you Heather for your patience,time, and help. I appreciate it A LOT! <3I know this has helped me a ton to think more about what I am writing in general, but better what to be on the look out in battle.
F A E L E N E
drawn to things not good for me
|
The curtain of night gave a different light to the scene, making eyes change perspective, and the sound of efforts in striking and bracing blows louder with the trace of heat and dispersing air that seemed more rapid from two bodies. Fatigue had started to set in her muscles, the struggle of air harsh in her throat. Flicks of moisture coating her nape as her heart pounded more fiercely. She wasn't getting his total wrath, a thought she had to keep in mind, but her muscles were still posed with tension, trying to make careful decisions.
As his teeth had landed a strike on her, did her hooves nick against his limb but he did well to depart before she caused more damage. In a real fight she might have been disappointed, but in this fight she felt the General didn't need any more physical badges. Really, getting any part of him fed her own confidence, and gave her satisfaction her next foe would carry real scars. The lady would find when she landed back to earth, front legs supporting her it awakened pain.There was no escaping injuries, and the burn swiftly gripped where his ivories had struck her tender flesh, certainly now a contusion, an open wound with red drops. Hell, hell she thought, through a tight jaw hating to think if she would walk or stumble from this fight. And what would everyone ask? What had happened? Who did this? Crawling from the General was a victory in itself wasn't it? For Faelene it was, and today it would be enough.
She fretted to keep the weight off it, but it was unnatural to put it on her haunches, though the injury on her hip seemed to throb less. She fought the sting as she should be preparing for his next assault. As a rough breath poured from her own mouth,there was a sudden sound that captured her attention. One that loomed from his thick vocals. Was his harsh sound his warning? She did not know if that's what it was, but wasn't about to ask. The red maned could feel the plains of her own magic, the force she had used to move things, but for a shield she had to to zone in her focus, concentrate on making it something very real, solid, and large. The first taste of it was strange, familiar, building in a clear shape around her while she prepared herself for what made Deimos not dangerous..but deadly. Faelene would get a touch of his magic she had asked for and could feel it gripping her, weakening her already tired legs. It was not a pleasing sensation, momentarily it felt like it would pull her down, steal her breath, steal her sight, a piece of her. There she was clinging to the invisible strands to save herself, losing her breath, feeling the panic of her body wanting to fight to live, her head becoming light and knowing she was so close. Then there was warmth, there was light, and she closed her eyes feeling it grow stronger, her lungs fill with oxygen. Sweat trickled down her brow, and she peered through narrowed eyelids seeing nothing, but knowing it was there between the General's magic and her body. Panting, she widened her gaze, and had a satisfied yet weary grin. It worked.
[Word Count:571]
[Magic Use:1/1]
|
|
| Administrator |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
| Official |
05-13-2013, 02:55 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-13-2013, 02:56 PM by Official.)
F a e l e n e | D e i m o s
- - - - -
By my verdict DEIMOS is the winner.
Deimos has been awarded 2 VP and has unlocked the Battle Buff ENDURE.
FAELENE -- post 1 (attack only)
[Realism]
+ 1| Attack: Horn slash to the left side of Deimos's ribcage.
[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion: The second half was a little dry, but overall there was basic emotional presence.
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Flow
DEIMOS -- post 1
[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Moving front end right to avoid the slash to the ribcage, redirecting it to the meatier haunch.
+ 1| Attack: Kicking toward the left side.
- 1| Attack: Biting at the left haunch. I do not think Faelene would still be within reach of Deimos at this point. He would have to stop, kick, land, and swerve around to bite at her, where Faelene is assumed to still be running at this point.
[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion: I was on the fence, but considering Deimos is as emotional as a stack of bricks as a character, I think showing determination and consideration for an ally is good enough.
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Flow
FAELENE -- post 2
[Realism]
- 1| Defense: How you reposition Deimos's kick is not clearly stated. While I find an evasion easy enough here, you simply mention running. Kicks are fast, Deimos had already turned, so this would probably have landed on a barrel unless Faelene is doing something you don't state here.
+ 1| Defense: Turning to get out of the range of Deimos.
+ 1| Attack: Half rear toward Deimos's left front leg.
0 | Attack: Biting toward the left cheek/neck. If you do not have a clear aim, justify why there would be no clear aim. Just aiming for a cheek is fine, unles there is movement making it complicated. "I aim for his cheek, but should he move his head, maybe it would fall closer to his neck." See? You do not punch out at someone aiming for two different places.
[Prose]
0 | Easy Read: "Quickly as he turned, she did the same,getting away from his attempted bite, but turning in the opposite direction. With black legs bending beneath her, she did a roll back to meet him sooner." -- This was very confusing to read. Why are you saying "opposite direction" when you can just dictate left or right and not confuse the reader? Also, roll backs are a special handling move that a reader may or may not be familiar with, and had I not already looked this up because of its use in a previous battle, I would not have known what she was doing. Just describe as simply as possible your movements.
0 | Flow: The top half was really disconnected from the fight and more rambling than providing anything to this post. I expect those in introductions, but this is in the middle of the fight!
+ 1| Emotion
DEIMOS -- post 2
[Realism]
0 | Defense: Moving inward toward Faelene's attack. This is good because it would minimize damage, but you fail to mention the amount of damage actually done. Legs are areas where wounds should be very clearly dictated, as they are so crucial for equines.
+ 1| Attack: Throwing his shoulder up toward her during her rear.
+ 1| Defense: Lowering his head to avoid the main blow of her bite.
+ 1| Attack: Biting toward Faelene's right knee and shoulder. This had the same problem as Faelene's bite. The reason I did not count off for the double aim like Faelene is because you stated "biting and nipping". Still, I think you should be more clear on how many attacks next time because I was originally going to dock you points.
[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow
+ 1| Easy Read
FAELENE -- post 3
[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Falling forward to avoid falling over from Deimos's shove.
0 | Defense: Lifting the knee to try to block the attack. I do not think this is a very wise idea, and you also fail to direct how and why this is a potential block for an attack.
- 1| Injury: You do not state where his attack lands or how severe the damage is.
0 | Attack: Kicking her front leg toward his forearm. You fail to mention which side. It could be the left or the inner-side of the right forearm, so you should have mentioned your intended target.
+ 1| Attack: Biting at his neck.
[Prose]
0 | Easy Read: "So as her front hooves fall, the right clips off the side of the hard hoof wall..." I know what the hoof wall is, but... I was confused. Is her right hitting the hoof wall of her left hoof or Deimos? You do not clearly dictate this, so I leaned on the side of not powerplaying. There was also the issue of not directly stating where his attack lands that lead me to further confusion. Try to be more explicit; you had plenty of words remaining - use them!
+ 1| Flow
+ 1| Emotion
DEIMOS -- post 3
[Realism]
0 | Injury: Scrape to the left foreleg. You do not detail enough about this injury, and I was unclear on just how bad of a wound it is. Again, the legs should be given extra attention as they are delicate areas of a horse.
+ 1| Defense: Swinging his neck out of the way of her bite.
+ 1| Attack: Using Deimos's death magic.
[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion
0 | Flow: the way you set up the response to Faelene's attacks was scattered and hard to follow in the perspective of the fight. It was overall well written, but I had to stop and sort out which descriptions of scraping went with the last round of attacks and this one. Try not to separate consecutive attacks by a paragraph of semi-relevant details.
+ 1| Easy Read
FAELENE -- Defense Only
[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Shield of light to prevent severe effects from Deimos's magic.
FAELENE
[Bonus]
+ 1| Breed comparison: Not actually used in battle, but mentioned often.
+ 1| Surroundings: You mention her feet slipping on the wet ground and the dying sunlight a couple of times, but not used in battle at all.
[Injuries]
None.
[Creativity]
Nothing of note.
Comments: You fought well! Mechanics wise, I think you really grasp the basics and do not do anything that makes me think... "horses don't bend that way”, so that is always a good thing. However, I would say details, details, details. You lost a lot of points just not being descriptive enough! Always mention sides and how much damage you take. Do not be afraid of being overly explicit. It is better to kill your judge with details (well, maybe not that many details) than leave them confused. Keep up the good work!
DEIMOS
[Bonus]
+ 1| Breed comparison: Not used in battle, but mentioned often.
[Injuries]
None.
[Creativity]
Nothing of note.
Comments: I really, really enjoyed reading Deimos in this fight. I think you stretched his emotionless personality to make him relatable and interesting to read. I do not think you went out of his character, but you gave him some motivations that would not show outwardly, and as a reader I really appreciated it. I think you have great mechanics, but you also lacked some details at certain points. Excellent fight!
TOTAL
Faelene - 61
Deimos - 65
 |
Image Credit: dirkjankraan @ Flickr
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
