• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Aela -- Year 216

    QOTY

    "So she smiles prettily and steals away when she can. Feels the brutal pounding of others around her with a savagery that she has never comprehended—their emotions so vast, their hearts so wicked. It warps her more than she was already warped. It presses a thumbprint of cruelty into her darkness, shaping her into a thing of shadow, a thing of longing, a thing carved from the darkness between every breath." --Baptiste, written by Laura


    ROUND THREE: Brennen v. Ivar
    #1
    3 attacking posts each, 1 final defensive post – 3 days between posts.
    One 2-day extension per person if needed
    Attacks can be multiple things, i.e. Albert attempts to bite Rose's neck and then kicks at her knee. Counter-attacks and attacks are all counted as attacks.
    Complete dodges are allowed, but for the sake of realism, be careful when using these.
    Traits allowed.
    No editing posts.
    1,000 word limit.
    Brennen posts first unless otherwise agreed upon.

    SETTING: Actively snowing with snow sticking to the ground. Dusk.

    @[Brennen]
    Male
    15.3hh
    Bone bending, ice manipulation, wings

    v.

    @[Ivar]
    Male
    17.1hh
    Equus Kelpus (dragon scales, sharp teeth, tactile hypnosis, supernatural attractiveness, the ability to breathe underwater, and looks like this underwater)
    [Image: Leah.png]
    Reply
    #2
    Winter has Beqanna firmly in her frigid grasp, and the Plains have not escaped the natural weather this time around. The accumulation of snow is already making the ground white, and the snow in the air is as hard to see through as the rain was in the last battle. Further complicating their lives, dusk has fallen and the world is getting rapidly darker. He has no real interest in prolonging this battle, despite the fierce joy that fighting gives him; he would be cold if adrenaline wasn't keeping him warm, and he has a feeling adrenaline won't be enough for very long. His desert-bred, island-living body isn't going to do much to keep him warm by itself.

    He hasn't had time to study his opponents as well as he'd like, but he's caught glimpses and pieces of the other battles, so he has a vague idea who Ivar is and what he can do. A giant of a horse (compared to the relatively compact Brennen, anyway), with some sort of scales and a fangs. Thankfully, no wings. Brennen himself is already aloft, a dark shape against the snow even in the gathering gloom, because he is at home in the sky. He is about two horse-lengths above the ground, just high enough to be out of reach of a rear or a leap upwards, but low enough to identify his opponent in the twilight. With the advantage of height, Brennen does his best to position himself above Ivar, preferably from behind, but anywhere will do because his primary intent is to drive Ivar in an intended direction, while making it appear that he plans to attack from above.

    As soon as he has positioned himself as best he can, not dawdling to give the kelpie time to think his tactic through, and with room for error given that he can't predict Ivar's movements, Brennen drops towards Ivar. He feints at striking with his forehooves towards the highest point of Ivar - his head and neck, presumably - even as he performs his true attack, drawing several large spikes of ice from the ground, angled towards the space where he has calculated Ivar will be in the next few seconds, to the best of his knowledge and experience. The ice weapons are scattered randomly, no discernible pattern to their placement, and across a space wide and long enough that a single leap shouldn't be able to take the tobiano to safety (not to mention his own flailing hooves just above, to help discourage any upward motion). With Ivar's dragon scales Brennen has no real hopes of landing an effectual kick from his current airborne position, but his hooves could bruise beneath the scales or even land on a less-protected area of the kelpie's head or neck if he is lucky; but his intent is to distract Ivar, so that he will have less time to react and avoid the sharp stalagmites of ice now pointed towards his hopefully less-protected chest and underbelly. If Ivar can't slow down or dodge out of the way fast enough, getting impaled on ice could cause some serious damage to torn muscles or internal organs. Even something as benign as tripping over one trying to dodge around another, and Ivar could strain a tendon or ligament, or fall down and break or bruise something. Plenty of hazards to overcome, unless the bay has totally miscalculated and Ivar misses the ice entirely.

    As for Brennen, as soon as he has hopefully driven Ivar into his trap he pulls sharply upward again, kicking out with his hind legs as his hind end lowers when his body changes to an upward angle to gain height - just for good measure. It's not carefully planned or executed, and unlikely to do more than bruise unless Ivar has stopped and spun completely around to avoid having to transverse the stalagmites (in which case, his head might conveniently be right there), but Brennen isn't one to pass up an opportunity to get in a good old-fashioned kick. With a few powerful wingbeats he is out of range of rows of sharp teeth and shoots forward at his top flight speed, aspiring to make up time as he flies straight across to the far side of his obstacle while Ivar must transverse it or go around it.  As he touches down in the snow, he is careful not to slip; thankfully decades of living in the Tundra had taught him all about snow, and with a little care he is able to remember how to land without fault. White powder flies up around him as he sits back on his haunches and spins, wings still half-mantled to keep the tips from dragging in the snow, to look for Ivar.

    He mentally releases that ice now, not maintaining it by magic. In most climates it would melt quickly, being less enduring than real ice, but in this weather he is unsure of how fast it will melt, and so he makes a mental note not to trip into it himself. He puts that energy instead into a preemptive defense, creating a circle of ice around himself, leaving just enough space in the middle for him to hop forward and launch upwards if he chooses. It's not too wide for his opponent to jump over with a good effort, though it would have to be a truly impressive leap, but the time spend airborne would give Brennen plenty of time to estimate Ivar's landing spot and have an attack prepared. The other obvious option is to cross it on foot, hoping the sticking snow will give traction and not just make it even more slippery. Still, the bay remains alert, ready to move or take off, because he is not going to underestimate anyone who has made it this far.
    Reply
    #3
    The eastern edges of the world have begun to grow dark, hidden by the setting sun and the blurred by the falling snow. Ivar, though he longs for the soothing warmth of sulfur rich waters, remains on the Plains, his dark eyes trailing the spiraling shape overhead. That is his opponent: the little bay stallion with wings too big for his body. Those broad wings make him easier to see even in the fading light, and while Ivar must shake the snow from his face now and again, he pivots from his otherwise stationary position in the still shallow snow so that he is always facing Brennen, never allowing him to gain the advantage of coming on him from behind.

    He has never before battled an opponent on the wing, but the scaled creature is not unfamiliar with attacks from above (nor attacks from below, for in the water gravity is unimportant and nowhere is safe). He does not relish that he is at a disadvantage now, and a low growl emanates from his chest as the airborne horse begins his descent.

    Brennen’s dive is short, but Ivar is ready.

    He sees nothing more than wings on the smaller stallion, and so assumes Brennen’s attack will come from his hooves. He is not wrong, and so when he tucks his head and darts a half-stride to the right, Brennen’s front hooves strike glancing blows just behind his left shoulder. Air hisses between his clenched teeth at the impact, but it bruises rather than breaks skin; he is protected by his thick scales.

    The bay horse is quick, even though such a long wingspan might disadvantage a flying creature this close to the ground, but Ivar does his best to be quicker. As Brennen’s front hooves strike him, Ivar whips his pale head up and to the left, where Brennen’s hindquarters now swing even lower to kick out. One hoof does catch him on the outside - the left side - of his neck, but Ivar is focused on the broad target beside him, covered in brown hide. His sharp teeth seek flesh - preferably the soft flank or belly, but he is not picky. Brennen has offered him a large and easy target, one that might end the battle even as it begins, if Ivar is lucky enough to draw enough blood. A freely bleeding wound on his side will surely distract and slow his opponent.

    There is no time to see how effective his attack had been; Brennen is too quickly out of reach.

    Ivar spins to follow him, only to find that his way is blocked by a field of dangerously pointed ice. That had surely not been there a moment ago, and he is unable to avoid bumping roughly against the nearest few as he scrambles to a stop in the shallow snow. In the darkness ahead of him, Brennen now stands in a rising circle of ice. Ivar twists his neck to the left and right, stretching the muscle that had been clipped by Brennen’s hind hoof and finding that it is mostly sore and barely inhibitive. The dull pain caused by knocking his front legs against the icy spikes is already beginning to fade.

    ”Fucking cheater,” Ivar snarls to himself as he moves around the icy stalagmites. This must be how such a small stallion has made it this far in the rounds; he uses magic rather than true physical skill in battle. That assumption is only solidified as the bay horse hides inside his icy barricade rather than facing Ivar, reminding Ivar of the little orange fish that hides within the anemone because it is too weak and cowardly to brave the rest of the reef.

    Ivar has never been afraid of anemones.

    Though the muscles near his left shoulder are beginning to feel sore and the footing is far from ideal, Ivar is rather good at impressive leaps (hindquarters strengthened by propelling a kelpie through the water are equally good at launching one into the air, it seems). Finding his footing and launching an attack inside the ice circle is another thing entirely, of course, and he decides mid-leap that he simply won’t. He makes no effort to come to a stop, but rather leaps ahead as soon as he lands. He means to slam his larger chest into whatever part of Brennen that is nearest, crushing the smaller stallion against the walls that he has so recently built. Perhaps he’ll hear the snap of broken wings or ribs, grounding his opponent or making the necessary deep breaths of battle an acutely painful thing.

    The snowy footing makes him slower than he wants to be, but he attempts to make up for that with snapping teeth that seek whatever bit of Brennen they can find. Something along the top of his body - neck or back or croup - is most likely, something that he can tear away and damage. Every moment that they are in physical contact, Ivar uses his own intangible trait, doing his best to press the desire to ”Submit. Give in. Stop fighting.” into the other stallion. If Brennen is going to cheat and use invisible magic, Ivar can see no reason why he shouldn’t do the same.
    Reply
    #4
    It is foolish to enter a battle with the expectation of not being injured, and Brennen is no fool.

    There is satisfaction as he feels a fore-hoof strike Ivar, though he is disappointed the other stallion has wisely tucked his head out of range. Fortunately Brennen, too, is wise; that is why he had swooped only enough to deliver glancing blows for his distraction. Thus, when Ivar merely swings his head - not leaping upwards - Brennen's flank and belly (and, indeed, the vast majority of his body) are mostly out of range, his hindlimbs only dropping down to kick. Ivar had jumped to the right in an attempt to avoid being kicked, so it is Brennen's own right hindleg that finds its mark on the painted man's neck; Ivar's seeking teeth find skin somewhere about halfway from hock to fetlock. Ivar's sawtooth jaws do not close fully around that extremity, but the bay stallion feels the tearing nonetheless as he pulls his legs sharply upwards, and behind the searing pain Brennen knows he will have to be careful to be sure that limb will hold his weight when he lands. It does, and though the pain is fierce it does not increase when he puts weight upon it: there are no muscles beneath the hock, and the teeth had not found true purchase to rip entirely through any tendons or ligaments. It's bleeding, but a horse has quite a lot of blood to lose.

    Still, it slows his spin a fraction and he rests more weight on his left hindleg. Keen ears catch the kelpie's snarling complaint but Brennen himself is silent, as is his usual. He doesn't fight on fury or bloodlust, because he does not fight for the thrill of harming others; he fights because he is good at it. It is a skill he hones for the rare occasion when he must fight for his own life, or the life of those under his protection. He disagrees, as well, with Ivar's idea that while it is perfectly fair for him to have scales and teeth, it is somehow unfair for Brennen to put his own hard-earned traits to good use, even if they are not physical things. Brennen has always believed that it's better to fighter smarter, not harder. Everyone will come across an enemy someday that is bigger, or stronger, or more experienced. Brute force is rarely (or in the case of Arabian heritage and a mere 15.3 hands, never) the answer.

    Even as Ivar is leaping through the air, Brennen is calculating his next move. The ice surrounding the pair is not tall, like a cliff, but flat, like a pond. When the tobiano makes no attempt to stop in the clear area inside the flat donut, Brennen pivots on his good left hind and steps purposefully sideways onto the ice himself, raising and partially folding that wing to get it out of the way. Ivar collides with Brennen's neatly presented right hip, which sends Brennen into a spin across the ice and surely will send the kelpie spinning too. Brennen makes no attempt to steer or stop their progress, waiting for the slide to bring them to the edge, and hoping their differing sizes and momentum, not to mention any scrabble Ivar might make to stop their slide, will separate them. He can't escape being pressed together though, however temporary, and his ears flatten against his head at the thoughts in his head he knows are not his own, urging him to submit. It is enough to make him tuck his head and neck almost immediately, but that works in his favor as Ivar's dangerous jaws close on an expanse of wild mane and rip away, taking some chunks of flesh along with the hair.

    A moment later they are apart, by whatever means, and the compulsion vanishes. A heartbeat after that his forelimbs find the edge of the ice with a jolt that almost trips him. He thrusts his uninjured left hindlimb (and to a much lesser extent the injured right) under himself to catch his balance and thrust forward, grunting at the twinge that push causes in his now-bruised right hip and the pain in his torn up foot. Aware now that any physical contact with Ivar is unwise, Brennen immediately snaps his wings out to their full length and takes to the air. Let Ivar call it what he will; Brennen does not have to be on the ground to continue the fight.

    Circling well out of reach, the bay stallion draws a skeleton from the ground, choosing one near to Ivar's size or maybe even bigger, and with a fearsome sharp and jagged horn still attached to its skull.  His proxy does not have flesh to tear, or a mind to be manipulated. He could bring forth more, but he prefers the precise control he maintains when he keeps his focus on one skeleton. It is good that horses see well in low light, because he needs every bit of that ability to keep sight of his skeleton in the snow that is only getting heavier, and he is grateful that dark dirt still clings to the bones to make them not entirely snow-colored.  He sends the puppet towards Ivar; endeavoring to match any speed Ivar produces, or galloping towards him if he is still, trying for a perpendicular approach. It slows just slightly at a critical moment, and the horn is lowered and engaged in slashing, aiming for areas where the puppeteer suspects the scales might be vulnerable - behind the elbow, the flank area, just behind the jaw, around the face - the exact places depending on how Ivar moves to evade. After the attack, the skeleton stays close to Ivar, as Brennen looks for another opening or opportunity to send it into the fray.
    Reply
    #5
    Ivar has never been especially fond of the cold, but on this dark winter evening a true hatred for it is planted in the recesses of his heart. It is watered by the unfamiliar panic that grips his heart as he skids across the ice, and fed by the hot rage that replaces it as soon as Ivar regains his balance. Despite the collision with Brennen, the piebald kelpie slides across dark ice far too quickly, and though he scrabbles to maintain his balance, he falls hard on his left elbow before he clears the ice. He scrambles to his feet as quickly as his can, placing all four feet firmly in the shallow snow just as Brennen takes to the sky for the second time.

    There is a sound behind him, and Ivar turns his gaze from the airborne Brennen to investigate the source. It is difficult to see in the swirling snow, but there is undoubtedly something emerging from the ground. Ivar knows better than to get closer and investigate, and instead glances back up at Brennen to make sure the other stallion isn't banking down for another dive before looking back at the breaking earth.

    It's a skeleton, he is able to discern, Brennen has pulled a skeleton out of the frozen ground and seems to be manipulating it like a puppet. 

    "What. the. fuck." the piebald stallion murmurs to himself. There is an odd conglomeration of feelings rushing past him: confusion, frustration, and irritation, all three fueling the rage that has until now only simmered quietly in his chest. 

    Ivar is a predator, a hunter, situated at the very top of the food chain. For the kelpie, brute force is always the answer. His opponent is soaring overhead like a little bird who refuses to muss his feather with a real fight, and Ivar snarls around the still-warm blood that colors his pointed canines, his dark eyes narrowed and alight with a fury that has been absent in his previous battles. 

    As the skeleton emerges from the earth, Ivar moves forward, gingerly placing weight on his left foreleg to test that thrice battered side and finds that other than the ache of falling and the dull throbbing behind his shoulder from the impact of Brennen's hooves, that he has no difficultly with movement. Moving a few more paces forward, Ivar glances one more at the flying Brennen and then focuses on the skeleton that is galloping toward him. 

    Rather than offer the horned creature the broad expanse of his right side as a target, Ivar turns in the snow to face the oncoming attack. Once hind hoof clicks hard as he sets it down and he is forced to move a step forward. To Brennen, away in the sky, the movement looks to be an effort to better brace himself for impact, but Ivar knows that the slick circle of ice that the bay stallion had conjured is directly behind him, and he doubts that dead hooves are any better on ice that those of the living.

    The skeleton comes toward him, galloping across the snowy ground at a reckless speed Ivar never would. Ivar ducks his head, protecting the softer scales below his chest, and leaps forward and to the left as the unicorn begins to slash. The jagged horn catches the midpoint of his barrel like a spear into impenetrable armor, and skids along the matte black scales. With luck and proper physics, the skeleton will skid as well, having barely slowed from its gallop toward the Ivar and the plane of ice behind him. Ivar adds a snap of his teeth to anything still within reach as he gets his feet under him, pivoting to the right to keep the skeletal puppet in his sights. He doubts teeth will harm it, but there is a faint hope that the creature is somehow linked to Brennen and that injuries to the phantom flesh might somehow hurt the magician as well. If it does, surely sharp teeth snapping shut at or even inside his enemy will allow him to make some headway in the battle. Internal bleeding is always a welcome addition to an battle, provided it is not in Ivar.

    The grey and white stallion shakes his neck to clear the falling snow from his eyes, feeling pain as the movement reaches his barrel. Despite the lack of a puncture, he is not without an injury, invisible though it may be. The deep breath he takes is uncomfortable but he takes a second and then a third, familiarizing himself with the pain while he looks skyward once more.

    "Are you ever going to fight me?" he shouts up at the brown stallion. "Or are you just going to hide behind your tricks so you don't have to get your hooves dirty?"
    Reply
    #6
    It is a strange stillness that comes over a world blanketed in snow; it somewhat muffles the pounding of hooves as his skeleton gallops towards Ivar. The white precipitation around them has thickened and he has to drop lower in the sky to be able to discern his opponent in the gloom. He is grateful that his wings are the shape most similar to those found on most birds of prey, and make low-speed soaring and maneuverability an option for him. The sheer size of his wings is only more of advantage, because the greater size proportional to his body makes lifting himself from the ground even less work, even though they are sometimes a hassle when he is land-bound.

    He observes dispassionately as the horn hits its mark on Ivar (the sound of bone against scales is quite unpleasant), and then his puppet goes skidding across the ice. The bay doesn’t bother to try and correct its course, though he does take momentary amusement at the way Ivar snaps at the bone-and-air construct; it’s long past the point of having any flesh or feelings, and Brennen is no more physically linked to it than he is to the ice that was trampled under their hooves. He holds the skeleton to it’s horse-shape as it slips and falls onto the ice and directs it to right itself when it comes to a stop in the snow along the outer edge of the circle, for he is not done with it quite yet. It stands, creepily silent, at the edge of the ice-circle to Ivar’s right while the kelpie himself turns his eyes and voice skyward, to shout at Brennen.

    As soon as Ivar looks upward to where Brennen is, he sends the skeleton darting towards the kelpie again, because what kind of tactician would ignore an opening like that? Since Ivar has looked up and opened himself up so neatly to attack, it is towards the underside of his face and neck where Brennen directs the skeleton to slash, hoping it can reach him and do its job before Ivar can fully react. Despite his hopes he is not expecting to be completely successful – but he’d be just as happy if the puppet battered the other stallion about the head, perhaps even getting a lucky swipe in somewhere vulnerable like the eye, muzzle, ears, or just below the jaw. Brennen assumes Ivar will move; he cannot move to the right very well with the slick ice and the skeleton there but he can always pivot towards his sore left side, or move forward; he could even attack the skeleton puppet. Brennen can hold broken bones together just as well as whole bones, though they do lose their effectiveness at battering when they are in lots of small pieces.

    An internal urge towards fairness that Brennen will later remind himself is more a tendency towards stupidity drives him to land, because Ivar is by merit of the rules which Brennen is quite fond of due another chance to attack the Ischian King, and he can’t very well do so while the pegasus is out of his reach entirely. Powerful backdrafts from his dark wings allow him to land at slow speed and he favors his right leg, landing with almost all his weight on the left and barely touching the right to the ground before dropping heavily onto his forehand. Even as he is folding his wings (slowly, as if he has not a care in the word, even if he is actually braced to move at the slightest sign of an advancement from Ivar), he considers the pinto impassively. “I’ll give up my ‘tricks’ when you give up your sharp teeth and trade scales for plain hide, you naïve child.”

    He drawls it in a tone so polite that they could have been discussing the weather, and followed with an annoyed little shake of his head to clear his forelock and face of snow. Still carefully monitoring Ivar, he takes a testing step backwards. His right hind holds his weight, but the shooting pain from hoof to hip as he goes to transfer his weight to it tells Brennen that moving is going to be painful. The footing, however, he is pleased with; there is no tricky crust on the top of the accumulation, nor is it packed down tightly to create hard slippery spots. Instead it is uniformly fluffy and thick, and while it can still be dangerous to traverse, decades of training in the Tundra are quickly coming back to him, and he feels quite confident about his ability to maneuver on the snow, if they avoid his ice.

    Suddenly, Brennen moves, cantering towards Ivar even as the skeleton lunges from the other direction. He moves slower than his usual in part to favor his injuries, in part for caution on uncertain footing, and in part so that he can be a moment behind the skeleton. He doesn’t have the energy to be precise about the bone unicorn’s attack and his own, so he sends the skeleton in slashing willy-nilly in Ivar’s general direction and holds himself back to see how Ivar will respond, keeping the puppet pressing his attack no matter what. Only then does he close the final distance between them, coming towards Ivar’s barrel as he slows to a trot for a stride and then halts at his best guess of just shy of a horse-length away. Pivoting around his forehand, Brennen lashes out with both hindlegs, though more strongly with the whole than the injured. He’s aiming for the bulk of Ivar’s ribs or his tender flank, where he can break ribs or cause serious bruising, again looking for places where the scales may be weaker, but any thud of impact would be satisfying. As soon as his feet hit the snow again he starts to move away, wanting to put distance between Ivar’s fangs and hypnotism and himself.
    Reply
    #7
    Ivar has seen his share of soaring birds, and while he has never had even the slightest inclination to join them in the sky, somewhere in his unconscious mind is a dissonance caused by the clash of Brennan’s minimal of wing-flapping and the lack of updrafts and thermals available with his very low altitude soaring. A winter storm is far form ideal for any flying creature, but Brennen remains frustratingly out of reach.

    This must be why each predator tops its own biome, Ivar thinks, recalling suddenly a lesson from his father. A shark has no natural need to take on an eagle, not when each is lord of its own world. Still, Ivar would like to see Brennen struggle in his element.

    The skeleton slides past him, the sound of bones on ice as grating as horn on scales. Given that it was galloping, it surely skids a fair distance across the circle, but even as Ivar glances up at Brennen in the sky, it never leaves his field of monocular vision, and he sees the moment it begins to attack. The ice circle is still directly behind him, and unless the skeleton runs across it, Ivar has plenty of time to react. The ice might have been terrifying when he was skidding across, but Ivar has no intention of abandoning what is essentially a protected area.

    The skeleton comes at him from the right, and Ivar turns slightly away from it before throwing most of his weight onto his forelegs, aiming a buck where he thinks the skeleton’s left femur and tibula might be as it passes. His previous attempt to damage Brennen via proxy seems to have been in vain, but perhaps breaking the skeleton into bits will be more effective. The kelpie is not certain how strong the magician’s creation is and how much attention Brennen can give to it as he lands, but it manages to get another bloodless but bruising swipes to his left shoulder before withdrawing far enough to attack in concert with Brennen.

    With the broad circle of ice to his right, Ivar assumes himself moderately safe from an attack in that direction, but Brennen canters across it anyway. More magic, Ivar snarls. The skeleton comes from the right, seemingly undamaged by his previous efforts. He won't allow himself to be pinned in, and Ivar knows this is his last chance to attack. Brennen had taken that opportunity before (judging by the lack of physical reaction to Ivar’s attacks on his puppet) and Ivar has no intention of wasting this final chance.

    Ivar backs up from his position, unwilling to remain motionless when faced with opponents on either side. Stepping back allows him to keep both his attackers in his field of vision and forces them to come toward him. The skeleton is first, further proof of the bay’s cowardice, and Ivar lowers his head much like he did at the thing’s most recent attack, though this time he attacks as well.

    The unicorn darting toward him slashes bloodlessly against his scaled neck, and as it swings away to continue, Ivar leaps forward, intending to drive his chest into the bone creation. There are no tendons to keep the bones together, no skin to protect it, so Ivar’s teeth should easily find the exposed spine. His previous attempt to damage Brennen via proxy had been in vain, but perhaps breaking the skeleton into bits will be more effective. He is not certain how strong the magician’s creation is, and does not throw all of his weight into his leap, but just enough that he can easily catch his own balance even if the creation falls apart at first contact. Still, even that might be enough strength to break the skeleton into pieces.

    He sees Brennen slowing to a trot even as he leaps forward toward the skeleton, and makes the instantaneous decision to abandon defensive attacks against the bones and focus on its puppeteer. His hooves have less traction than is ideal, which slows his turn, but Brennen has had to close the distance between them in order to be near enough for his own attack, and so the footing is not entirely prohibitive of his effects. Brennen’s hooves hit Ivar’s right side, and with the way that Ivar turns toward him, luck will force the greater impact on the bay’s injured right leg rather than his left, which barely clips the rear end of Ivar’s thigh.

    It’s not quite a gut punch, given that the stallion’s left hoof has landed on his flank, but the impact forces the air from his body in a sharp exhalation regardless. Ivar is already moving, half turned as he is hit and parallel to his opponent by the time Brennen’s feet are on the ground. Ivar wastes no time, lunging after the smaller horse with his canines exposed. He means to catch Brennen on his left side as the other moves away, to slam him to the side with his own bruised shoulder and rip through the plumage of his wing to the flesh beneath. He does not aim too far forward on the bay’s body, knowing from experience that even skeletal wings, spread quickly enough, are dangerous. Instead, he goes for the flank and stifle, trying to press his bruised body close and hoping that Brennen’s injured left handle will slow him and prevent a kick at the in-range Ivar.

    His only goal is to hurt Brennen, and while ripping out a few feathers would qualify, Ivar tries to dig deeper and close his sharp teeth around something more. Further injury to a weak leg might be enough to cripple Brennen and make any movement painful. It would also likely send Brennen to the sky again, but Ivar knows that the battle is nearly over. This was his last chance, and he bites again and again, trying to make it count, even as he is forced to slow by his aching hind leg.

    ooc: remind me that i never want to battle you again once this is over haha
    Reply
    #8
    The skeleton’s first charge does not take Ivar by surprise as much as Brennen had hoped; in order to look up and focus directly on Brennen, Ivar should have had to switch from his around-world encompassing monocular vision to forward-facing monocular vision, and lost temporary ability to see or focus on the skeleton. But the bay warrior supposes that Ivar could have raised his head but not focused on Brennen, thus leaving him clear to watch the skeleton’s progress. Either way, Ivar had turned from his position with his hind end to the ice to the right to keep an eye on the bone puppet, and now he turns slightly away from the creature (back towards perpendicular) and kicks out, with the skeleton still coming from what was head-on and is now slightly to Ivar’s right side. Their positioning keeps the skeleton’s hind limbs well out of reach, but one of Ivar’s hind hooves connects solidly with its left radius. A bone without flash around it is a narrow target, despite how solid the hit, and the bone cracks but holds together.

    Somehow Ivar then pivots quickly back to face the skeleton’s retreating position, with the ice circle on his right once more, which leaves Brennen approaching him from behind as his puppet approaches head on again, and the warrior king watches with mild interest as the kelpie backs up towards him. In the next heartbeat Ivar seemingly changes his mind when it becomes clear that the skeleton will reach him first and lunges forward, his head lowered in a way that would make it terribly difficult for him to see the fast-approaching Brennen. The tobiano bites down on the skeleton’s spine as they collide, and the bay pegasus absently hopes he breaks a fang, biting down on hard bone directly like that. The bone puppet has served its purpose well, and Brennen releases the bones to fall to the ground, wondering if Ivar will be left hilariously with a vertebra clutched in his pointy-toothed jaw.

    Perhaps it is that brief moment of irreverent thought that make it so that he doesn’t reach Ivar just a breath after the skeleton, as he had intended. It seems, in fact, as if Ivar was able to turn back time like the Ischian’s son Cagney, to be attacking the skeleton and then suddenly not attacking the skeleton, instead spinning towards the bay king even as Brennen has planted his own feet and spun his hindquarters towards Ivar and bucked; or perhaps Brennen is just more tired than he realized, and losing moments of time. Based on Ivar having lunged towards the skeleton, Brennen had recalculated for his kick to land closer to his opponent’s left haunch than his ribs, but the kelpie must have done a quite impressive spin indeed because Brennen’s hooves find their target instead on Ivar’s right side, with the hoof nearest to Ivar (his left) glancing off of Ivar’s thigh.

    Immediately upon landing, Brennen had begun to move away, and starting to lift his wings forward and up, the first stages of extending them fully and then bringing them down, with every intention of taking back to the sky. This is his saving grace as his opponent lunges at his left side, mouth agape and closing on Brennen’s hip where he probably hoped a folded wing would still be. The bay stallion instinctively shifts his weight away, onto his injured right hip and leg, and gasps aloud for the first time with the pain of that action. As Ivar’s fangs tear into his hip, they are thankfully not able to close too deeply because they are limited by the amount a horse-like creature can open it’s jaws. Ivar, though, snaps those jaws again and again, tearing the skin and muscle around Brennen’s hip each time, shredding the first few layers of tissue and inflicting some deeper damage he will have to evaluate later.

    It’s that excruciating pain that convinces the pegasus not to kick out at him with his left hind; he saves what tolerance for pain in his hind end that he can still muster for the moment when he rocks back onto his haunches and leaps upwards, his wings now fully extended to flap as many times as necessary to lift him out of range. Ivar is still biting as Brennen lifts off, and he can feel the kelpie’s fangs tear down the meaty part of his leg, leaving behind bloody furrows in his flesh, before altitude tears him away from Ivar’s jaws entirely. He is free to fly away now, the battle over, and he does so without a backwards glance; it’s his safe landing on two injured hindlimbs he’s worried about now. The rest will be as it will be.
    Reply
    #9
    WINNER: BRENNEN

    BRENNEN - 12.25 pts

    Attacks (-3/+3): 2.25 pts

    Attack 1 (Total)
    + Feint and attack with ice

    Attack 2 (Total)
    / Kicking into nothingness

    Attack 3 (Total)
    + Skeleton thing to attack

    Attack 4
    + When distracted sends the skeleton thing to him

    Attack 5
    / Feint with skeleton/attack with skeleton while kicking out - Gave a / because breaking ribs is mad hard yo

    Defenses (-3/+3): +3 pts

    Defense 1 (Total)
    + Ice circle defense

    Defense 2 (Total)
    + Taking partial bite

    Defense 3 (Total)
    + Offering hip and sliding across the ice

    Defense 4
    + Takes hit

    Realism (-2/+2) : 2 pts

    Post 1 (Total)
    +

    Post 2 (Total)
    +

    Post 3 (Total)
    +

    Creativity (-3/+3): 2 pts

    Post 1 (Total)
    + Feint with ice was way cool

    Post 2 (Total)
    /

    Post 3 (Total)
    +

    Grammar (-3/+3): 3

    Grammar (-1/+1):
    +1
    Readability: (-1/+1):
    +1
    Powerplaying: (-1/+1):
    +1

    Outline specific instances of issues for critique



    IVAR: 11.9 pts
    Attacks (-3/+3): 2.5 pts

    Attack 1 (Total)
    + Biting at what's available as Brennen pulls up

    Attack 2 (Total)
    + Smashing Brennen against his own ice - pretty smart idea

    Attack 3 (Total)
    + Biting again

    Attack 4
    + Mind thing to make him submit

    Attack 5
    + Using the ice to let the unicorn thing slide

    Attack 6
    / Flank biting/slamming?

    Defenses (-3/+3): 1.4 pts

    Defense 1 (Total)
    / Turning to take partial hit

    Defense 2 (Total)
    - Doesn't seem to acknowledge that Brennen's ice and first attack were simultaneous? Though I guess if not totally specified this is a smart way to avoid being impaled

    Defense 3 (Total)
    + Takes hit sliding across the ice

    Defense 4
    + Scales

    Defense 5
    + Bucking at skeleton horse

    Realism (-2/+2) : 2 pts

    Post 1 (Total)
    +

    Post 2 (Total)
    +

    Post 3 (Total)
    +

    Creativity (-3/+3): 3 pts

    Post 1 (Total)
    +

    Post 2 (Total)
    + Using the ice again is smart!

    Post 3 (Total)
    +

    Grammar (-3/+3): 3 pts

    Grammar (-1/+1):
    - Were there grammar issues or typos? If yes, -1. If no, +1
    Readability: (-1/+1):
    - Were the posts easy to understand? If yes, +1. If no, -1
    Powerplaying: (-1/+1):
    - Was there powerplaying? If yes, -1. If no, +1
    Reply




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)