He wasn't at all sure what he was doing, coming up here again; the last time he'd braved the path to Heaven was still burned into his mind, a kind of vivid clarity that had him annoyingly aware of the changes he'd undergone since. That time, he'd skirted around the Foothills, blood-madness threatening to break through his composure and resolve, angered and disgusted by the miasma of scents.. that time, he'd climbed the steep path above the clouds to seek the council of the foulest witch, terribly blinded by her beauty and by his own arrogance. She'd chosen him, and she'd dumped him. Mauja snorted. He was an idiot, alright.

This time... the clouds had drawn together overhead, snow falling softly to land upon his rugged coat. Not even the south's warm temperatures had been able to counter the clock in his body, his hairs growing longer and shaggier to keep the warmth in. His breath steamed out in clouds, and he cursed himself, blue eyes falling off the path time and again, down into the covered valley below — but it's impossible to see white on white, and despite the way his eyes yearned for a flash of red, or silver, he saw nothing.

He was still an idiot, alright.
But he had to admit he was worried, after seeing the Sun engulf her in flames and.. and what? What had he done to her?

Mauja sighed again, lowered his dark muzzle to brush it along the unbroken snow, climbing into the thick midst of the clouds where the snowfall turned to fog and the winds tugged at his long pale locks. Would the light shine on him when he stepped through? Would the sky be as clear as ever, once he made it higher? He clung to the thought, depressed by the dismal fog, the memory of a home so long ago, but when he passed the cloud line he found himself still snowed upon; there was a gap in the clouds, a layer of clear air, but above him they were gray and thick again. Mauja paused upon the rim of the fields, his body steaming faintly in the chill air.

He was not alone.

The other was shorter, younger, silver and charcoal and red. Mauja studied him in frigid silence, head tall and blue eyes unreadable; his tail brushed against his hocks, a whistle of noise in the silent, frozen world. Black-rimmed ears flickered forward, nostrils widening to pull in his scent — one 'brow arched faintly in surprise. Basin. He'd never met the young stallion himself, and doubted he would be recognized, not by scent but perhaps by hearsay? Still, he said nothing, made no move, simply remained with his frosted hooves planted upon the winter-hard grass and earth. Because, he was not at all sure he should say anything at all. He was not blind to the tension rolling off the other in waves.

[ 488 words. ]

Mauja doubted he was what the other had expected; the stallion looked as if he was about to move, muscles tensing before releasing, relaxing. He didn't even need to sniff the air to know that nothing had changed, though — even where he stood, a few yards away, he could smell the anger running beneath the other's skin, and watched him with calm, level eyes. "Lord?" the other breathed, and black-rimmed ears cupped forward to catch the faint, questioning sound. So, he was known, the speckled King of the North, and still silent, he inclined his head. The wind ruffled his long mane, his vision veiled by the white forelock draped across his face, head turned somewhat to the side to keep Voodoo in his sights. Mauja didn't know his name.

The wind rushed with a howl towards them, keening through the crevices below, snow swirling upon its breath as it reached out to touch them. Mauja stood immovable, something carved out of marble and with ice for a heart, but the other, he moved on dark legs, his red horn coming dangerously close; his ears pinned back, but Mauja did nothing. Did he need to do anything? No.

"I'm very angry, Lord. I don't know what to do."

One ear twitched, and a faint smile curved his dark lips. I might know what to do. He almost chuckled, but kept his face straight and voice silent; no need to embarrass or confuse the boy, was there? Slowly, he began to detach, his mind sinking through the frozen planes of his being, disconnecting from his warm body. His soul rode the bitter winds somewhere out over the range, on wings barred with blue, her beats strong and sure even in the gusts buffeting her. Her cry haunted the desolate peaks, and Mauja's blue eyes glistened with something unreadable, amused and aloof, cold and sharp in its color and intensity. There was nothing of warmth, nothing of soft snow melting in sunlight, only the merciless frigidity of winter's ice, frost upon the frozen ground.

"You could hit me," he suggested, perfectly calm, still bemused despite the way his being had hardened; that crooked little smile grew, nearly into a grin, but not quite. "And hope that the anger goes away."

He didn't need to say that he would hit back. Surely Voodoo knew that he would — perhaps even wanted it.. some kind of honesty, warm blood shed in the cold teeth of winter.

[ 411 words. ]

His words were met with silence, punctuated by the white clouds of their breaths steaming towards the sky. Mauja's pulse was solid and steadfast in his veins, a drumming noise in his ears, filling up the space left by the lack of words. Somewhere above the clouds the sun shone in all his golden glory, but beneath the dismal blanket snow and some kind of faux-dusk ruled; the lack of light did not bother him, nor the blend of gray on gray. The bright red of Voodoo's muzzle had him sticking out like a sore thumb, and vaguely humorous thoughts floated through his mind as he waited, still as a statue. Only the wind tugging at his locks, and the rise and fall of his sides, betrayed that he was alive.

He'd begun to wonder if he'd misjudged the situation, and his words, when Voodoo finally moved — like someone suddenly pulling a trigger after almost lowering the gun the gray stallion tore across the frozen ground, and Mauja followed him with pale blue eyes, still not moving from his spot. He even cocked a hip, lazily, smiling all the while. He wasn't sure why he did it, why it somehow felt so good to be the snowman not melting in the fire-breath, even though it was almost like taunting his opponent.

When Voodoo was a step out, Mauja placed all four feet on the ground again. It wouldn't do to get knocked back down the path and tumble off. It was far too long down.

Time seemed to slow when the gray stallion rose, and for a moment Mauja wondered if he was going to stand there — if he was just going to let himself get beaten.. it almost felt like it, like he'd just turn and look the other way while blows rained down, but somewhere, a neuron fired and things seemed to make more sense. Reality caught up, but not in the shocking, horrifying way it had when he'd impaled Torasin upon a spike; rather, it came with a flash of heat, a flash of cold, an unholy blend and suddenly he was moving, leaning left, into the touch of dark hooves; they missed the point of his withers, sliding down the right side instead, fairly harmless and painless. Quickly his head snapped left, aiming for the skin of Voodoo's flank, or hip; the calm smile had spread into a grin, his heart not so heavy in his chest anymore.

He felt lighter than he had in days — months — and somehow, he wanted to laugh even as he leaned left, neatly shifting his hooves on the frozen ground to try and push the shorter stallion over backwards.

[ 1/4 :: 449 words. ]

( I'm sorry you lost the other post. <3 and I deserve to be smacked for my last attack, I apparently didn't even write out what I'd attacked with -facepalms- I had meant a bite but oh well my bad xD Here we go, Mauja the Accidental Stabber! )

Voodoo's weight against his withers amused him, mainly because it meant he had the gray stallion at a disadvantage, a puppet to dance to his whims — and whimsical he was, easily bearing both their balances upon his sturdy legs. Irma, appearing somewhere in the snowy haze, laughed in his soul and showed him what they looked like, what an awkward dance pair, Voodoo hooked over his back and quite busy trying to get down. If Mauja had been a wolf, he would've lolled his tongue out in a humorous grin, but as it was, he kept his tongue between his teeth and felt the tip of his horn slide into flesh. Fortunately, he didn't aim too badly, and while the cut would heal into a nice scar, it wouldn't leave any lasting damage. Fresh blood spilled into the air, the peculiar scent blending with Voodoo's anger; the mind of a prey found the smell distasteful and frightening, an instinct that was hard to remove completely. Instead, he merely ignored it, that uncomfortable tingle down his spine, and took pleasure in the little game he played with the other.

Frosted hooves shuffled low above the frozen ground, sinking down into crunching grass or sapping, mostly-cold mud, nothing loose enough to make him slide: he felt secure in his balance, and fortunately, he was herding Voodoo deeper into the fields, and not towards the sheer drops.

But alas, all good times must come to an end. Voodoo finally found his feet and purchase against Mauja's spine; the spotted beast grunted, ears pinning for a moment, but then the weight was lifted and he stepped to the right instead of left, severing their contact. Briefly he wondered what it was like for mares, to stand beneath a heaving stallion — what kind of strength did they possess? Snorting, he cleared his head as Voodoo decided it was pay-back for the dance lesson. Tut tut. Attacking your teacher wasn't the way to go, was it?

Sternly he reminded himself of Voodoo's youth, of his frustration and anger; Mauja might be insane enough to find it hilarious, confident in his abilities and limitations, but if he was to betray too much mirth.. show too much of that mischievous flash in his eyes, who knew if the other would take offense? Mauja didn't want to mock his anger, not when it brought the other to the brink of reason, into daring to combat a stallion four times his age. And so, he kept his mouth shut and schooled his face to a more somber expression, and simply turned his head down and right, feeling teeth clamp shut on his mane and the skin beneath. The flat muscle offered little purchase, but the scrabbling grip raked painfully across his neck, leaving a wet, stinging trail before the red muzzle willingly retreated. Barely had he begun to turn back to keep an eye on the boy when he rose again, and instinct had Mauja ducking; the red horn went safely somewhere over his mane while his heart skipped a beat, wondering if Voodoo truly had meant to spear him, and then that gray-and-red head was pushing against his upper neck, almost a tender action despite the force behind it.

It turned his head sideways again, forcing his neck right, and with somewhat of a resigned sigh Mauja shuffled his haunches left, stepping backwards as quickly as he could, hoping Voodoo wouldn't take off from their parallel position; bowing his head, hoping the other wasn't stupid enough to land on Mauja's horn, Mauja peeled his lip back and aimed a quick bite for Voodoo's chest, mostly just wanting to keep him going until his anger was spent.

After all, Mauja had nothing to win here, and no desire to harm his herdmate.

[ 2/4 :: 632 words. ]

Voodoo's flesh was firm between his teeth; he was well-muscled, but not particularly observant, at least not in the moment that Mauja's white head snaked in under his neck. Mauja bit down, hard, if only for a moment, releasing him and coming away with a wet mouthful of hair; pulling a grimace he drooled it out and began to sidle away to the right, away from the trafficked path of churned mud and treacherous footing. He preferred fighting on the solid tundra, but he was miles from it, and had to make do with what he found — with the bitter wind and cold snow reminding him of it, and the free-falling form of his owl amusing herself and thinking of lemmings.

Still, he felt as light as she, as if he, too, had wings. Despite his best intentions the mirthful spark shimmered at the bottom of his gaze, the posture of his tail high, playful and confident as he shimmied, graceful and smiling, waiting... It seemed that cogs were turning, but something happened, and Mauja found he'd danced sideways for barely a second before Voodoo exploded again, rushing after him. And again, that peculiar lightness flowed through him, a feeling like flying, being weightless, surely more graceful and agile than his earthbound body; still, he was stuck in it, and found himself almost clumsy despite the fact that he actually wasn't.

Black back legs were striking out, reaching towards a snowy white hip. Fighting was a quarter reaction, a quarter tactical thinking, a quarter programmed responses, and a quarter suppressing instincts — you couldn't run away from the blood. Leaning away from a kick only made it hurt the more.

The closer you were, the better.

And so, Mauja wrenched his hips left, hopefully cutting Voodoo's movement short with at least a few inches, though the impact rocked him back a bit again. Surprise could be just as effective a weapon as a physical attack, though he grunted when the firm hooves slammed into his thigh, avoiding the sensitive joint and bruising the muscle instead. The blow rang through his nerves, echoed up to his head, and if anything, he could thank Voodoo for letting him know he was still alive.

But it wasn't over yet. Frosted hooves shuffled across equally frosted ground, a half-hearted attempt to maybe shove into the smaller stallion's hind end before Mauja planted his back hooves and firmly wrenched himself around to the left, hoping to align them once more, his left side against Voodoo's right. He couldn't let the charcoal-and-red stallion walk away unscathed; even if he did it for the other's release, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't do something more.. how would it look if he limped away from here, the Lord, while the other skipped gaily down the path with only a gash and a bite to show for it? No, it wouldn't do, and for that very reason Mauja peeled his lips back and launched a savage bite towards Voodoo's withers, hoping to pin the jutting part of the body between his snowy jaws, while at the same time raising his left leg to try and knock his hoof, fairly gently for a fight, against Voodoo's front right knee. Give him a limp to match the one Mauja would sure have, once the blood flow through his thigh cooled and slowed.

[ 3/4 :: 564 words. ]

Mauja didn't really get it. He was used to the fast pace of battle, the twist-and-turn of the intricate dance, the brutal power of someone charging heedlessly against you – all for the pack and nothing for yourself, the death of one soul nothing but an honorable sacrifice for the victory.. he understood heedlessness of one's own well-being, if it meant an opening. If it meant you'd get somewhere.

So what he didn't get, was why Voodoo, twice now, had simply seemed to stop. What happened in that young mind of his? Why did he simply.. space out? Did he not care about his body, or was he just not used to the fast pace of a battle, even a friendly one? He reacted too late, and Mauja's teeth found their mark; the withers slammed into his jaws, the contact rattling up through his skull and his hooves dancing awkwardly across the half-frozen mud as he tried to stick to the gray's side. And then, when he lifted his hoof to strike, he found his target, and it was with a brief burst of satisfaction, even if that state of bemused detachment remained. He was not useless, not even in this state of silly mirth. He could still hit someone. And, most of all, he was fairly sure he knew his own strength and hadn't left any permanent damage.

But Voodoo didn't remain spaced out. A hot flash of pride tore through Mauja when the stallion ripped out of his grasp, spinning on powerful haunches to retaliate one last time. And while it was not the horn's tip that led the charge towards Mauja's snowy throat, it was still uncomfortably close, jutting out of Voodoo's forehead like a menace: he forced his aching thigh to take the load of his weight, twisting his entire neck to the left to avoid accidental damage and half-raising in the process. He'd weighed the options against one another, chosen teeth over horn, and now he paid for it. They clamped down on his chest, somewhat off the aim now that the taller Mauja had risen, too.

Pain was a rather exquisite thing, a flash of heat, a flash of cold, a spike through the system. It rattled his mind, but couldn't quite shadow the lightness in his heart, and if it wasn't for the awkward position he would've laughed, relished in the sharp, swift stab of it. Instead, he kept leaning left, and brought up his knees in an attempt to first knock them against Voodoo's throat, then raised the right hoof again to try and punch him in the front of the shoulder.

And then, it was over, Mauja's frosted hooves crashing back to the ground, his breath an exhilarated quiver, and his eyes still like snow in sunlight.

[ 4/4 :: 465 words. ]
[ Thanks for the fight, Nevlove! If you don't mind, we could just RP this out to the end after you closing defense, and let them post the verdict when they will? I doubt the outcome of the fight is going to affect their interaction much. :) ]

The world felt infinitely silent as the roar of his pulse slowly faded, his heart calming but not growing heavy again. It remained light in his chest, and the air was crisp and cool in his lungs, lifegiving, a touch of winter after the heat of a scuffle. His pale eyes settled upon Voodoo, breath and heart surely calming in that one too, and then let his gaze drop to the space he had created between them with that final push. It was with his eyes there that he heard Voodoo's quiet apology, and snorted, not quite concealing his mirth. Mauja was too used to fighting horns to be killed, or seriously injured, in the first place, and flicked his eyes up. "It would've been a feat for you, and a shame for me, if you had hurt me," he said with a faint grin of sorts. Voodoo was too young to be a trained, perfect warrior, with a lifetime of experience, a tale like the scars on Mauja – luck played its part in all battles, but age had given him the upper hand.. and kept him well away from the tip of Voodoo's already red horn. Oddly enough, he hadn't quite extended the same courtesy.

Grunting, Mauja took a few steps to the side, placing full weight on his left hind leg despite the hit his thigh had taken – but the reach was shortened, he had to admit, giving him a kind of lopsided gait as he stopped again to peer at the smear of blood on Voodoo's flank. Well. Mauja was fairly sure he wouldn't die of it. Standing still for a couple of minutes should let it clot fairly well, and then he could limp home. Satisfied that he hadn't broken his herdmate beyond repair, Mauja let his eyes return to Voodoo's face. "Do you feel any better?" he asked kindly, knowing the circumstances which had brought this spontaneous bout of violence around. For all his snowy grace and glacial calm, Mauja had been a young stallion once too, and knew the way fire could course through your blood.. tilting his head slightly to the side, he waited for an answer.

[ lol this kind of sucked, sorry. <3 ]

Red stained mug dropped down closer to the frozen, churned up earth. I could smell the fresh mud that splashed up our limbs, it seemed like heaven against the wet snow. I have become so used to the smell of snow that normally it wasn't even something I could pick up on. Homeland was constantly shrouded with snow, along with frozen ground beneath it to keep it there. Venturing into grassy fields or the dry, rocky terrain of the Heart was always an adventure that started with the initial smells. Matching eyes stared down at the ground, tracing awkward hoof prints in the waste toward the massive structures that held Mauja up.

He was so calm, so collected. I hope to be like that one day. To be able to stand my ground with so little effort, then simply stand to the side with pride. "-a feat for you, and a shame for me, if you had hurt me." Left ear rotated to the side while the right stayed forward to take in the words. This is true, it would have been shameful. I cannot imagine the great brute beaten and torn up because of my much smaller body. There seemed to be no comparison in what he could have done to me, and what he actually did. I only nodded in response, agreeing with what he had said.

Again he spoke, this time questioning whether I felt better or not. I had to think, I had to make my whole body register to the question. Did I feel better? The anger had come to a settle, but they still chirped away in my head, attempting to push me on, to lash out when the stallion wouldn't expect it. A cheap shot. There's no way I would -or could- do that. Then I would really get my ass kicked. Instead I drew in a sigh, nodding as I exhaled loudly. "I guess so." Crimson eyes attempted to lock with the snow colored stallion's blue ones, "Thanks."

Text here "Chat here." Voices here

Table by Frostie

Perhaps it was arrogant of him to have that kind of faith in his own abilities, that certain knowledge that even if Voodoo had intended to harm him, he would've been able to keep the red horn at bay. But at the same time, he had spent so much time around unicorns that even if he could not defeat his opponent, he could at least lead him on a merry chase, out of reach. The best defense was, after all, to outrun your opponent, if you were hellbent on getting away unscathed. Though, he wasn't sure he could outrun Voodoo, but in a dance here at the roof of the world, he was fairly sure he could keep out of his reach, until they both grew tired and tumbled down, or something. But that would've been unsatisfactory, some form of cowardice even – didn't Mauja always say, that being a King was not about ruling, but about being there for his people? Serving them, while helping to guide, protect and organize them? So what kind of leader would he be if he had danced, tauntingly, outside of Voodoo's reach while still being the one to have invited him? He'd offered himself up as a punching bag, and using his experience to bereave him of the promised release.. no. It wasn't something he would do.

And speaking of the release... Mauja's prompting drew forth a sigh, and a half-positive answer. He wasn't sure if it was true uncertainty, or meant that it hadn't helped but he didn't dare say it. He was on the verge of arching a snowy 'brow when Voodoo's searching eyes found his, and held them, saying thanks, and Mauja's 'brows stayed put. Perhaps it had helped, then, or mostly helped? Briefly he considered the young stallion in silence, simply breathing, before giving a rather firm nod. "I'm glad," he finally said, painfully aware of the fact that he didn't know Voodoo's name – but then again, his presence in the Basin had been scarce as of late, so he did have somewhat of an excuse, didn't he? At least, he hoped so, but said nothing of it yet, instead continuing to peer at him, a thousand questions spinning through his mind. Where did he come from? What did he want of the future? What did he think of the hornless? What did he dream of at night?

But such questions were far too intimate to ask of a near-stranger, even if you shared a home with him, and Mauja didn't voice them, at least not that time. Perhaps another day would find him less restricted. "What had you riled up anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" The query was poised in the same polite manner as most of Mauja's speech, open and honest, matched by his searching gaze – somehow, he had found a way to keep both mind and face clear, a combination of tone of voice and expression that seemed to convey that he would not judge what he heard.. a state of mind that allowed him not to judge, until he had all facts on the table.

V o o d o o | M a u j a
- - - - -
By my verdict MAUJA is the winner.
Mauja is awarded 1 VP.

VOODOO -- post 1 (attack only)

[Realism]
- 1| Borderline Powerplay: "A few long strides brought me in front of the Lord of my home land. What am I doing? Hooves clutched to the frozen ground with ease, bringing me around his left side." -- You cannot determine the positioning of your opponent in relation to you. Instead, you should word things like this: "A few long strides should bring me in front of the Lord, if he had not moved..... with ease, attempting to bring me around his left side."
+ 1| Attack: Rearing at the left withers of Mauja. This was clarified later in the post, so I gave you the point, but I wanted you to notice this. "Cold black hooves reached into the air..." -- You do not state front legs or back legs, so this could be a rear or a kick. Be careful!

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow

---

MAUJA -- post 1

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Leaning left into the rear.
- 1| Attack: Biting/stabbing/nosebutt? at Voodoo's left side. You failed to specify, really, what this attack was intended to be. I originally thought it was a bite, but Voodoo replied to it as a stab. I realized it could have been either, as there was no mention of teeth or a horn.... so. xP
+ 1| Attack: Leaning further left to knock over Voodoo.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow

---

VOODOO -- post 2

[Realism]
+ 1| Injury: Slash to the left hip.
- 2| Powerplay: "...front legs pushing off of Mauja's back in an attempt to slide off of him." -- Despite the fact that Voodoo's hooves touched Mauja's right side, you cannot say that you push off of him, only that you are attempting to.
+ 1| Defense: Moving backwards with the shove to avoid toppling over.
- 2| Powerplay: "..my front knees sliding down [his] rib cage as I jumped off." -- You may never apply damage to your opponent they have not taken in a former post, or mention touching them when they do not allow for it.
0 | Sidenote: "...saliva stinging from the roof of my mouth to a sharp canine." -- I wanted to point this out because not all horses have canines, but males do have them more typically than females. Also, their canines typically come along further in adulthood and are definitely not what I would describe as sharp.
+ 1| Attack: Biting at Mauja's throat.
0 | Attack: Headbutt to the neck. This attack is all good and fine except for the fact that Voodoo is a unicorn, yes? Unless his horn mysteriously evaporates before this attack, his skull will not meet with Mauja's neck, but his horn will stab him instead.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow

---

MAUJA -- post 2

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Curving his neck down to redirect the bite to his neck, protected by the mane.
+ 1| Defense: Ducking to send the horn over his neck, while being butted by the lower portion of Voodo's face.
+ 1| Attack: Bite toward Voodoo's chest.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow

---

VOODOO -- post 3

[Realism]
- 2| Powerplay: "The iron tinged splatters of blood flowed over stained teeth..." -- Mauja never mentions the bite breaking the skin, and I believe the "wet"ness that he does mention is in fact saliva. Making the injury an opponent takes more severe is still powerplay, even if this was an honest misread.
+ 1| Injury: Taking the bite to the chest.
- 1| Borderline powerplay: "Long legs pulled me forward, pushing me to the left side of my opponent." -- Again, you may not determine your position by relating it to your opponent. You can only attempt to rush his left side.
+ 1| Attack: Kick to the left hip. This is more of a transitional issue, but you do not mention turning, ever, and Voodoo and Mauja were standing parallel, hip to hip, chest to chest, pretty much. Just remember to mention TURNING and not just running.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
0 | Flow: You swapped the headbutt and bite in order of time.

---

MAUJA -- post 3

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Swerving his hips left to weaken the kick.
+ 1| Attack: Shove toward Voodoo's hindend.
+ 1| Attack: Bite toward the withers.
+ 1| Attack: Attempting to knock the front, right leg with his left.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow

---

VOODOO -- post 4

[Realism]
0 | Injury: Allowing the shove and stumbling. No mention of the severity of the "bump" or any mention of pain.
0 | Defense: Swinging your hindquarters left to avoid a bite to the withers. I am not sure why you choose to swing your hind end away when he is aiming toward the shoulders. Normally I do not judge tactics, but I cannot award you for a useless defense. I am noting it here just to point it out to you.
- 1| Injury: Wither bite. No mention of immediate damage or pain.
+ 1| Injury: Kick to the right knee.
+ 1| Attack: Bite to Mauja's throat.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
0 | Emotion: Mechanical and dry.
+ 1| Flow

---

MAUJA -- post 4

[Realism]
+ 1| Recoil: Jarring from the strength of the withers slamming in Mauja's jaw.
+ 1| Defense: Half-rear and twist left away from the bite, taking damage to the chest.
+ 1| Attack: Knee-bump to Voodoo's neck.
+ 1| Attack: Kick toward the front of Voodoo's shoulder.

[Prose]
+ 1| Easy Read
+ 1| Emotion
+ 1| Flow

---

VOODOO -- post 5 (defense only)

[Realism]
0 | Sidenote: Since this doesn't effect the battle itself, I am not counting off. However, I wanted you to notice this: "Front feet touched the ground for a split second, bringing the stallion back to his normal height. It seemed as soon as they touched, they flailed back up." Mauja's feet never touch back down. His attack is connected to the defense, he just continues pushing his front end left.
0 | Defense: Throwing his head up and backstepping to redirect the knees to skim his chest. If you had read correctly, you would know Voodoo would not be able to do this in time. Mauja has the battle buff Swift, so he would be not much slower than Voodoo.
+ 1| Injury: Kick to the left shoulder.

---

VOODOO

[Bonus]
+ 1| Surroundings: Footing on the icy ground is sometimes mentioned, but not directly used in this battle.

[Injuries]
None.

[Creativity]
Nothing of note.

Comments: You need to be careful about powerplay. You may not reference anything, really, which is determinant of something your opponent is doing, feeling, seeing, smelling, touching, tasting, etc. Nothing, ever. This is what lost you a lot of points during the fight! I think, overall, you do not have any bad habits in terms of mechanics, meaning you never tried to do something I thought was impossible. You just need to work on transitions, which were lacking. Mentioning a turn or any movement helps the judge and your opponent figure out what you are doing, if the attack is plausible. Also, don't forget about your horn! Good job! I look forward to watching you improve. :)

---

MAUJA

[Bonus]
+ 1| Surroundings: Mentioning of footing being unstable, slippery, and wishing he was instead in the tundra, Mauja is aware of his surroundings.

[Injuries]
None.

[Creativity]
+ 1| Attack: I think your last attack, trying to knee Voodoo in the throat and then kicking his shoulder, was very creative and flowed nicely with your defense.

Comments: You fought well as always. You obviously know Mauja well, his thoughts and actions. The only trouble I had during this fight was when you failed to clarify an attack, otherwise this was fairly clean. You also skipped out on a lot of bonuses you could have had. It was a pleasure to read your fight, and keep up the good work!

---

TOTAL
Voodoo - 61
Mauja - 76