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[bg=black][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] Ra'Zac

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'i don't mean to, to alarm you,
can't you see that, it overtakes you.
you're declining, disintegrating,
you're gonna lose it all!'

- red, 'release the panic'

===

name- ra'zac
breed- 'lippitt' morgan
age- five years
gender- stallion
height- 15.2 (seems larger)
alliance- dark
health- 100% physical health / 100% mental health (questionable)
words- 1203

- Time can be a truly cruel mistress, but all the same it can also be kind when it so desires, when it is you don't take it for granted and toss it aside. Rarely does fate give out a generous hand to the ignorant in this deadly game of life and loss, striking down even the most innocent in its wake. The real world was horrific, it was barbarous, and experiencing it in all it's gore was perhaps the most delicious high anything with a beating heart in their breast could ever feel. To not reach out for it, take it, strangle it in a hold so tight not even empty air can escape, is utterly foolish beyond any and all reasonable doubt. Because once you experience that high, how can you not crave it? Luckily, he is no fool; he has seen life at its worst, came closer to the doors of death than most would deem sane, and always pulled himself back just to repeat the cycle. Visions of grandeur plagued his vision from the first day he tasted what this hell called mortality had to offer, of crowns toppling and kingdoms burning, and all crying out the curse that reaped their torture upon them so mercilessly in love and hate. Before, he had had everything a hellion could want; a kingdom carved in tradition to call his own, a crown he had been groomed to wear, and respect like no other, but in pursuit of that vision of his, he left it all behind in a burning blaze of hellfire. His crown was worthless, his respect was gone, his kingdom a pile of ash, and he couldn't care less if he tried. He'd carve out his own kingdom, he'd reach that vision if it was the last thing he did, and if death's scythe fell upon his soul before then, so be it - he wouldn't submit until he was certain his visage was seared into the mind's eye of everyone who opposed him before then. And this? This was only a minor step into what would be his perfect oblivion.

The second that the dark colored talons had stomped upon the the sun cursed plains of battle, the dark clouds seemed to roll in and the icy winds of the northern skies pierced at his flesh like blades. Muscular system danced gracefully beneath the raven skin that adorned the frame of the beast, frame shivering in anticipation as onyx windows tinted with the sins of life sparked with fierce excitement, columns moving him ever further across the point of no return. Against the shadows of the starless night, the darkness that crept upon the plains, he was almost invisible, a nocturne silhouette caught in the littlest of light only to vanish a second later as if nothing was ever there to begin with. Jet blacken silks flew high, caught in the death grip of zephyrs of ice, proudly representing their lord and master like a crusading conqueror as he stepped along the path to decay. One by one, his steps tore scars into mother earth's face, testaments to where he had been, and where he was going, all the while he challenged the danger before him with a daredevil smirk that seemed forever plastered to his velvet kissers, just asking to be tried by whatever else lay in waiting.

Body in motion finally pausing upon dead and broken land, he straightened his withers and raised his mighty crown high, cat o' nine tails whipping and satellites erect in full attention. It would seem he had arrived at the chosen place first after all, typical and very aggravating. chiseled dial shook in rapid motions, onyx threads flying every which and way before falling back upon the crest of muscle that held his currently crown-less visage high in above the rest of the low life scum he decided to wallow in all those years ago. Well, nothing to do but wait he supposed, wait until the queen of the bitches decided to grace him with her presence and let them finally get this thing going before he died of boredom. He'd not meant to get into this tonight, rather it had been a pleasant stroll through forbidden terrains, leaving behind his stench to throw the bastard kings into chaos just for a while; it was hilarious to watch them fall over themselves the moment they scented a demon who didn't submit to their will in their pitiful kingdoms... he'd not meant to stumble upon the bi-colored queen of the dark souls in a place as low as Carnevale Letale, being paraded around by a femme who was just too stuck up to be ignored. So he didn't. Brazenly he'd strutted up to the so called lady of Carnevale Letale, the notorious Necropolis' right hand bitch, and demanded the queen be handed over without complaint. As if i'd ever let such a prize be tainted any more by filth like yourself. had been his exact retort, lyrics to a scathing tune scarring the atmosphere between them. All of nature seemed to hush in those moments, waiting on baited breath, and before long the challenge was set, the pieces placed upon the board, and now all that was left was for the second player to make her entrance.

Aome would call this suicide, for certainly setting such a challenge against anyone in high position amongst Necropolis' empire, the terrain's curse itself sending fear into the weakened hearts, was crazy; perhaps it was, but that was how Ra'Zac liked it best. Tonight he would place all his knowledge and experience into the combat, everything he had learned in the five long lifetimes his blackened soul had lived in a scarred corpse, and with fate on his side, he would succeed and claim his prize. Vaguely, he gave thought to his partner in crime whom he'd left a good while back for his 'stroll', and a snort escaped his nostrils at the thoughts. If that short-stack left him behind before he got back, there would be hell to pay come their 'reunion'. and after all Ra'Zac went through to find him presentable gifts too... well, except for this one maybe. a single talon raked the earth in an eager pawing motion as he arched his boa downward, velvet chin touching his breastbone as he left a stretch of scarred dirt left behind in the wake of the movement, a small sand cloud forming at his feet. He was preparing himself, readying for the coming events ahead; God and Satan themselves both knew it was not the first time he'd declared such war with others, but he could not help but get over-excited whenever the prospect of battle shadowed his mind's eye, the images of himself and a shadowed rival crashing together in a hardcore fight too much to handle. Snorting, suddenly very close to panting, he finally lost his patience; his upper form lifted from the ground, black crown raising high into the atmosphere as he shouts out-loud his challenge, banners flailing in the wind as his limbs boxed against empty air in a majestic and terrifying display of power. Now just where was that bitch already?

ooc: rules are default, 4 attacks and 2 dodges, with the little adjustment of four to five days to post between rpers instead of the normal three. the main prize is control of the currently stolen queen of the dark horses, tainted love. in addition, if ra'zac wins, he also receives immaculate crucifixion. if he loses, he can never challenge for tainted love again.

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[Deleted]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=background,http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/365/7/c/immaculate_s_table_by_legends_never_diexx-d5pv3hu.jpg,true] a divine embodiment of hell on earth name- Immaculate Crucifixion breed- Tennessee Walker x Westphalian age- Four gender- Mare height- 17hh alliance- Dark health- Physical - 100% | Mental - 75% Carnevale Letale had become quite busy lately and it was nearly an understatement. Between roughly four pending challenges for various harem members, a slave trade, and an academy to train soldiers, there was a good amount of excitement going on. Of course, Immaculate Crucifixion was in the dead center of all of the excitement too. The slave trade, academy, and three of the four challenges were all products of her presence here. However for her and the evil entities that resided in Carnevale Letale, there would never be enough to keep them completely busy. Each action and stroke of power was being written in the stone tablets in Hell. Immaculate Crucifixion daydreamed about the eternal days and nights of being able to witness such spiritual connections with the Devil himself. For her to know who was on his list of the valued and the banished. She was sure that the crimson drenched empire ranked high on Caidas' list considering its queen had sold her soul to the Underworld for eternity. It had been a rumor when she joined the empire that the queen's dead king and lover had done the very same thing and bound themselves together in the wretched afterlife. The mere thought sent a ripple of anticipation for the day she meets her hellish Master. She did not bow to any other higher being and never would. "Oh darling Caidas, are you listening? I'm not worried about today but could your ever watchful eyes rest upon the battlefield today please?" The chocolate dyed war maiden softly sung her breath as she rose from her resting place in the filth that lay thick in the morgue's lower levels. It was nearly impossible to tell what she had been resting in but her safest guess was the hollowed out vessel of Necropolis' latest victim. "Immaculate, why do you question if the Dark Father is listening to you? He knows where his divine princesses tread." The ghastly hallucination murmured in her harks as the skeletal equine creature suddenly appeared at her side. "Rest assured that your motions on earth are noted in his book. His followers do not go unnoticed." Azra'il reassured her well enough that she could continue on her prayers to the Underworld leader in a hushed murmur. It wasn't something she was doing out of stress or worry. She was a follower of Caidas. She sent quick words on sinful wings to him daily just as the followers of Blackavar did for the ebony divinity. This challenge had an interesting twist in its nature. Not only was it for her painted prize that she had stolen from the dark Royal King's harem but it was also for her mahogany stained hide as well. The point of interest was not intriguing however. Granted the seventeen hand mass of estrogen and muscle had not been in the ranks for very long but she had become very set in her position's responsibilities and the rules that Necropolis' held her followers by which meant that this entire situation did not sit lightly in her chest cavity. It should have sat somewhere near her heart but Fixion was relatively sure she didn't have one. If she had one she might have felt flattered about all of the attention. "How do you not feel flattered about this? This stallion is wanting YOU and your toys." Azra'il did not make her laugh or feel any sort of amusement about this. "He lives under the idea of 'what is mine is mine and what is yours, is mine too.' If I had a dime for every time I've seen these types, I'd be an equine billionaire and it's fucking ridiculous because we have nothing to do with dollar bills!" There was nothing special about this beast. He walked the same forsaken path as many before him. His ignorance of the inner workings of the dark territory and all of their minions was his own to claim. The only individual that was going to be hurting over this was this..Ra'zac, or whatever the hell his name was. If anyone with a brain resided in Wild Equines, most of them knew what Carnevale Letale's rules were and they knew the consequences would come swiftly. Clearly this insolent beast did not understand how things worked around here and this would not turn out well for him in the long run. "I cannot fathom respect for anyone who squeezes the final seeds out of their balls when they choose to challenge us when we have the Underworld, Atro City, and The Wasteland at our sides. Among others. Who has it out for their own health so terribly they want to be killed on the spot? The empire and its allies will slit his fucking throat." Simply put, Fixion didn't care for anyone that came her way to try and take her play things, let alone the empire's play things and belongings. For further explanation of 'didn't care', Fixion would much rather like to hope that you would be forcefully pushed off a cliff and found in tiny bits all over the land below. Which at that point, she would collect your tiny bits and feed you to her queen. It wasn't that hard to figure out that anyone who stole or attempted to steal from the kingdom was immediately a sworn enemy. No exceptions. Anyone who challenged Carnevale for any reason held the same fate if not worse. The elegant temptress picked her way through the toxic carpet of decomposing flesh as she exited the morgue. Sapphire spheres rolled back and forth in their hollowed homes as she passed under the bloody mutilated carcasses of the seven victims she purged the earth of the previous night. The empty stares of their voids did not stir the wench a tone beyond an invisible shiver of pleasure. The carved out vigils of Set in their slabs of muscle had receded as their flesh had dehydrated with the effects of post mortem. If only she could have the chance to mark the worthless bag of flesh and bones with as many vigils of Set that his fat ass had room for. Wouldn't that be a pleasant gift for Necropolis? To find this piece of filth's hide covered in mutilations that praised their Master over and over again? Fixion would be delighted to receive such a gift herself. But to even have the opportunity to do such a thing, she needed to depart from the sanguine territory soon. It didn't take her long sinew wrapped pistons to carry her lithe yet muscular form out of the cast iron gates that marked the only entrance into Carnevale Letale. As soon as she exited the gates, her limbs began to propel her across the partially frozen ground in a swift thrice beat. The dark chocolate mistress soon arrived at the crest of the entrance to the battle field. Azure pools narrowed upon the ashen gray horizon as the sun retreated behind the clouds. "Retreating from my presence is in your best interest, fools." She mused silently before her charcoal knives slit open the tender flesh beneath her framework as she stalked closer to the smaller equine. At the whim of an invisible gust of wind, her golden locks were blown around her chiseled visage and well structured nape before it settled down, giving her a windswept appearance that had little effect on her mood. She did not care to be sexy or desirable right now. Nothing about this battle would be pretty or nice. The war maiden sent another prayer to Caidas as she slowly began to circle around her opponent. She stayed silent even as she finally paused to face the fifteen point two hand stag. Her expression was blank and stoic like the empty stares of the open eyed corpses in the morgue. Sinews and muscle twitched beneath her hide momentarily but they were already coiled like springs ready to be released at a moment's notice. Harks swiveled upon her crown like satellites but the earth seemed to grow still for the moment before she released the storm within. "Some just want to watch the world burn." Her stoic expression suddenly cracked and a vicious laughter escaped her larynx as the witch charged forward without any warning at all. Cracked labrums curled back to reveal yellowed enamels as her jaws snapped near his skull with the intention of her jaws to close around the bony protrusion surrounding his void socket. The goal was to not tear out his eye but to damage the portion of his crown around it. As soon as her knives touched solid ground again, she spun her hind quarters away from him, protecting her spine and important limbs. In her defense to his next move, Fixion cranked her muscular nape back and left her jaws wide open with her enamels exposed and at the ready to tear flesh from bone as a fore limb rose off the ground in preparation to strike or to propel her lithe frame away from any attack. She was prepared to either draw this out and leave a bloody mess in her wake. word count | 1,523 muse | decent character | immaculate crucifixion status | complete music | Therapy Caravan of the Fair Room - Memphis May Fire notes | none attacks | 1 - attempt to bite around his eye dodges | zero immaculate crucifixion's speech azra'il's speech

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[bg=black][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] Ra'Zac

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'breathe in, breathe out,
breathe in, breath out
breathe in, breath out,
blackout! let your panic out!'

- red, 'release the panic'

===

name- ra'zac
breed- 'lippitt' morgan
age- five years
gender- stallion
height- 15.2 (seems larger)
alliance- dark
health- 98% physical health / 100% mental health (questionable)
attack(s)- four three two
dodges(s)- two
words- 1443
attacks/dodges detailed- attacks: an attempt to hit her head with a hoof from the side during a rear, followed by a kick at her head on the retreat. / dodge: didn't dodge and took the attack, bite injury near the right corner of his left eye

- Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out

[/i]; great barrel of the beast contracted and expanded in tune to the rhythm of life, monotonous, one after the other in constant cycles, oxygen drawn in and carbon expelled into cold winter air, chilling ghostly clouds produced upon immediate contact and tickling the ebon paper thin nares as they faded into obscurity. Lanterns cradling the dark hellfire of the wicked narrowed and dilated, his entire figure growing ever anxious the longer he was forced to wait. Discomfort was not the reason for his ardency, nor was it even a player in the raging forces racing through every corner of his mind; he was at home here in this final destination of warriors, hidden beneath the blanket of storms that hung over his countenance, and the amazon of Hell that he'd issued this challenge to was in no way intimidating to the shadow stained creature. Perhaps, to others, the lady of the hellish empire Carnevale Letale would've been a terrifying opponent, and even more so would be the wrath of her insane empress, the witch of legend Necropolis herself. But the very notion of fear has long since lost its luster; its appeal just isn't strong enough to seduce him into its freezing embrace. No, fear was an utterly moot concept here; there was only excitement in the air tonight, the shiver of blood-lust racing through his system at supersonic speeds a truly exhilarating experience as he watched... and waited. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out...

Though the coming collision upon the battleground had not been his intention this night, it was now the only thing occupying the czar's mind, sharp intelligence hidden beneath a visage of insanity that just didn't seem to fit no matter how one looked at it. Once more for the hair of a second, he gave thought to his fellow off somewhere in the un-claimable terrains, probably awaiting his appearance as promised days ago; he'd have to stall his time a while longer however, for there was too much on the line to just up and strut away now. Far too much. the queen of shadowed souls was prize enough should this war go his way, but the deal was also sweetened by the added trophy of the very opponent he sought to annihilate this hour as well. One look upon that treasure stained hide of hers, and all he could think about was what a prize she could be too; a special play toy that most likely tasted sweeter than the chocolate shade she was colored, and depending on how it all went down, a possible gift he could offer for Kyrillos to make up for his absences. The stud had quite the female complex after all, it wouldn't be hard to get back into his good graces offering such a lovely present... if the process in procuring said present wasn't too difficult - no fucking way in hell was he giving up something he worked too hard for after all.

But whether or not he got Necropolis' top bitch for himself or not was not the most important of goals set here; the dappled slut could go to Hell and fuck with Caidas himself for all Ra'Zac cared, the one he truly wanted was the painted damsel that Fixion called her slave. Now that was one prize he'd never give up if he got his talons into her, and he'd make sure she never wanted to leave either. Daredevil smirk, trademark of the onyx devil, crept up his chops, satin curtains and lashes dousing the eerie pools that rested within his sockets, blinding him to all but the images playing before his mind's eye. For so long, so so long, he had always coveted Incognito's dark queen, having long past breached the point of obsession with her. More than once in his lifetime, he had entertained fantasies of the beautiful femme, wondering how her skin would taste on his tongue, or how her slim figure would feel against his, or how her lyrics would sound to a vocal instrument gone hoarse with desire. A shiver of a different form of ecstasy clawed its way up his spinal column; damn he was getting turned on already just thinking about it. Calm down, calm down is the whisper of common sense, and though his form was slow to respond, his smirk only widened. Incognito, what a fool to be allowed a throne... he'd only made it so much easier for Ra'Zac in letting his prize be stolen away. And once he had won this prize...

Breathe in, breathe out... the sudden scent of decay and blood caught in his zephyrs with the newest flood of wind as he drew in more of the life-giving oxygen into his lungs, expelling the putrid smell with a harsh snort as his optical lens flashed to light again, the steam of winter breath framing his visage. Thorns slowly perked forward ever so slowly, muscular braces tensing as he held himself straighter, every fiber awake and alert and focused. She finally had appeared. That cursed smirk, once having disappeared for the split of a second, returned with more malicious force than before, lust sparkling in the empty chasms as he took in her new windswept appearance, streaks of honey dripping over the curved form of her serpentine in a truly delectable manner. Hmm, perhaps she was worth keeping after all, if she looked like that with just the stroke of a gust. Step by step, movement by movement, he followed her path in the circle around him, a lioness stalking her prey with such precision one couldn't help but admire... but this lioness was taking on too much this time - she would pay the price for her arrogance. Ra'Zac was not going to make this easy.

The chocolate dappled vision before him soon came to a halt, her features stoic and calm, though he'd be a fool to believe such as reality. He could feel it everywhere, the tension suddenly increasing tenfold with every breath, every moment wasted. The auburn vix was as coiled as a serpent ready to strike; her entire form was singing with it, and he was loving every second. Pitch black dial lowered with the arch of his boa, spires disappearing behind the thick tapestry that layered the top of his crest, the edge of the flowing locks left to hang in gravity's wake. Smirk vanished and slits narrowed, readiness creeping up and desire frothing in his throat as he awaited her move. Ladies first and all that jazz. 'Some just want to watch the world burn.' at any other time, any other place, he might've wondered what that had meant, but the moment the final tone left her throat, everything was shot straight to hell. Laughter cutting and deadly and insane shattered the tension as she suddenly spurred to life, all appearances of stoicism gone in a flash of stained pearls snapping at his brow.

With a scream of a neigh, he raised his fore bodice off the face of mother earth, his frontal flints leaving the dust for a moment as he slammed his dial into her attack, letting it hit. Sinful pleasure and agony flooded his reception of, hitting his sensors so hard it almost knocked him off center; daredevil smirked turned into a grin befitting a mad hatter then, and he violently tore himself away from the witch with a thrash, reveling in the feel of crimson draining down over his optic; the sensitive orb itself had not been damaged, but he would probably have a nice new trophy to show for his efforts after this. Knifes touched the scarred terra once more, and the beast was unleashed; hindquarters sprang him away, bodice twisting back around and maws parting to show off his own set of fangs, his lithe carcass placing itself in way of her escape route; pushing his form into her side with twin pools wide and crazy, he reared off the ground and struck out with a single blade, stretching his pillar to aim for her skull with crackling force. He cared not if he did any lasting damage, as long as she was able to stand and strut she was still a worthy toy in the end. The moment his talons were back on mother earth he lunged forward, striking out with his hind flints at her crown with a harsh kick, desiring to hear bone crack and feel blood splash. When he had enough room to move, he twisted his form back around, showing his ivories at her in warning, preparing for the next strike...

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[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=background,http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/365/7/c/immaculate_s_table_by_legends_never_diexx-d5pv3hu.jpg,true] a divine embodiment of hell on earth name- Immaculate Crucifixion breed- Tennessee Walker x Westphalian age- Four gender- Mare height- 17hh alliance- Dark health- Physical - 95% - abrasion to her lower jaw | Mental - 75% Immaculate Crucfixion knew that this night was coming to her. There was not a fiber in her being that would deny that or pretend that she wasn't causing any trouble. The chocolate essa made no attempt to conceal her works and she preferred to keep it that way. No creature on earth would ever convince her to cover up her crime scenes and leave no signatures behind. She wanted everyone to know her name. If there was one individual who didn't know her, she had failed. Perfection was demanded at every single second and anything less was never acceptable. If she wanted the land that held the Styx River, she needed to be at her best and perform to her fullest potential that Caidas had allowed her. If she tried hard enough, perhaps she could exceed it and create a large scar in history. Larger than the divine empress Necropolis? If she ever made it that far, she hoped so. It wasn't a lack of respect or obedience to the shadowy governess but Fixion wanted all eyes on every single move she made. The silver dapple czaress despised being stagnant and in one place. She always had to be striving and working toward something. For now, infamy was her goal. At this point in her short life, she was on a slow but gradual ascent up into the ranks of the feared. Fixion did not personally believe that anything she had done recently was 'fearsome' but it was more so what was to come. Her unknown intentions should be what most were concerned with. With a war maiden such as herself, it would be best for society to be wary of her. Never trust her. Never let her rule anything of significance. Never let her utter a word to your friends, family, and enemies. If she was allowed to do those things, it would only lead to crimes unspeakable and when questioned, she would merely look to the ones who gave her the access to such things. Even if punishment was a consequence, it wouldn't matter. She feared no mortal creature. Not even the scrawny punk she was fighting tonight. Death was not a threat to her either. She welcomed the Grim Reaper to come behead her whenever he so pleased. If the world was versus her alone, she would not be afraid and she would embrace every single individual with her merciless lust to dominate and to destroy. But this pathetic bastard was also out to dominate her too. He had plans for her that she didn't care to ask about. Quite honestly, Fixion didn't give a fuck what he thought of her or wanted to do with her. The four year old witch was going to keep him from his intentions as much as she could do under her own power. She sincerely hoped he wasn't thinking with his dick and thought that he could force her into being bred or some petty childish shit. For one thing, the douche bag was too short to even mount her properly. Her frame was six inches taller than his and his tooth pick stilts were probably not even long enough to give him a decent angle. Hell, she probably wouldn't feel a thing. His set up was probably miniscule. She could get off on a clover stem faster than this runt. Also, if he had plans to keep her as a slave, he could kiss that wish good-fucking-bye. She would fight him until she dropped with exhaustion. She did not bow to anyone. The deviless snorted to herself at the thought of giving in to any sort of pressure. She may respect someone but she did not obey them easily. Not even to Necropolis and The Pumpkin King. There was not a single threat that Ra'zac could give her to cause her to care about his purpose or his mission. Of course, if he was really after the painted slave she owned now, he was going to have a very difficult time getting to her. The mistress of Carnevale's training academy was a well qualified fighter. She did not need decayed trophies of her victim's heads or thousands of battle wounds to attach a story to. The scars she had were enough for her and no, she wouldn't brag about the many she ahd slaughtered in her sleep. The arrogant stag that carried himself with an invincibility complex would soon find out that she was not normal. She was not your 'run of the mill dark'. She was not anything that could ever truly be predicted. Not even her own empress could predict Fixion's next choices and she never would be able to beyond the fact that whatever it was, would produce chaos and upset the general public. In her not so humble opinion, his only purpose was to die at this point. He had crossed the line that only ignorant fools crossed. The rules were simple. Do NOT dick around with Carnevale Letale. If you do, you're going to be the one to be hurting for it later. Anyone who strove to be on the cast iron wrapped and corpse stuffed territory's long list of enemies needed to be put out of their predicted misery. This kid needed to have a chat with Lateralus or the Helkaers sometime. So they could fill him in on what was to come. If the Lady of the corpse loaded kingdom made it out of this battle with her freedom intact, she had plans to make the short brute's life a nightmare he would never truly wake up from. The power-hungry daughter of Caidas snarled under her breath as her thoughts snaked around the flashing images of the brute confined in a filthy unit in the morgue, emaciated and exhausted. Then a much more pleasant thought evolved, creating flickers of the pitiful male's corpse slowly decaying into just skeletal remains. His idenitity no longer attached to his visage.His story no longer attached to his figure. His thoughts no longer housed in his think box. If the bastard's soul ever ended up in the Underworld though, by the time she got there too, Caidas may have to restrain her in the Abyss for a couple hundred years. But everyone knows that Carenvale Letale does not house anything associated with mediocrity or anything adequate. It must over exceed and prove to excel time and time again. Immaculate Crucifixion was beyond determined to reach that point with this worthless sack of flesh and bone. He was a minor nuisance though. Even if he foolishly chose to return to the attention of the hell bound empire, he was of no real worry to anyone. He was just annoying as fuck. Nothing about the short bastard was intimidating. He reminded the four year old witch of that small child who bitched and cried and threw a hissy fit over nothing. She was especially reminded of this when after he received her attack and he thrashed away from her mahogany vessel with his labrums curled in something she assumed he called 'fury'. She had a much more intimidating expression when her gut was unsettled. "Awhhh, look at your cute little face! I look more hellish when I'm sleeping, you pathetic fuck." The witch sneered in mock adoration before her lyrics snaked out in an out right verbal strike. Chocolate and honey hued essa arched a brow in an uninterested expression as the brute bared his own set of enamels. "Wow. Look how tough you are." Her sapphire voids rolled in a bored fashion. She had seen yearlings much more terrifying than this guy. Is this really all society had to offer anymore. What a fucking pity. He then pushed into her with some unknown motive. She was not escaping to any particular place and she hadn't even been in his line of fire. Whatever. She hadn't even attacked him yet. Her seventeen hand frame packed with muscle and estrogen shoved back in his direction, not caring if she plowed into him or not. With a sharp pivot on her hocks, she rose up at the same time he did upon his own stilts and the simple height difference and anatomy of a rear kept her skull relatively clear from his strike toward her head. However, the tip of the fore blade did tear the superficial flesh from her visage between her jaw bone and her nare on her left side. Beautiful crimson muscle fibers were torn open and claret fluid dripped easily from the wound. Even though it wasn't a particularly nasty attack, she did not appreciate the strike toward her skull. But that's fine. "Two can play that game, little boy." As he had struck her crown near the lower edge of her skull, her own flints struck out toward his chest cavity as she thrashed her fore limbs to keep her balance. But in her attempt to counter balance against his strike and her own, she began to tip forward closer to the brute and her taller bodice started crashing down toward the tiny bitch --- oops she meant stag. It didn't matter to her if he ended up falling over onto his back or not. He could snap his spine for all she cared. Charcoal knives dug into the sandy earth beneath them again and she spun her built frame around as she tucked her hind end beneath her to protect herself from any sneak attacks. Her crown tipped forward and scarlet fluids trickled down her maw faster before her tongue swiped the blood droplets away. The metallic fluid was bitter sweet in her mouth but by no means was she a vampire nor did she enjoy the taste of blood. The simple action of cleaning herself up only spread the claret stain all around her labrums, giving her a grotesque appearance. The witch then rallied herself together and regained her thought process to focus in on the battle again. As the brute whirled around to face her next assault, she was already charging in his direction. Long mahogany pistons rose and fell in long strides as her nape coiled like a spring and she tucked her crown to her chest and away to the side for protection. Her bodice soon became bound together as one dark chocolate wrecking ball of a wench as she barreled toward the stag. As she passed by him, both hind daggers struck out toward the under side of his skull and the tender area surrounding his jugular vein. But before her knives even hit the ground, her jaws sharply snapped at the thin flesh of his stifle in an attempt to rip the necessary muscle fibers apart. If she had managed to mangle them in any way, he would have some difficulty moving about. Sure, he could walk and limp about at a two beat gait but anything rapid would be agonizing. He could suffer for his crimes, though. Whatever injuries he received from this battle would hopefully deter him from fucking with Carnevale again. But Fixion was not counting on that theory. She was not stupid, she knew how criminals were. She was one herself. Does the sheep not know its own flock? word count | 1,865 muse | none character | immaculate crucifixion status | complete. music | Therapy Caravan of the Fair Room - Memphis May Fire notes | none attacks | 1 - attempt to bite around his eye, 2 - struck out at his chest 3 - kicked at his head and tried to bite his stifle * - the point where it says she started to come crashing down on him was only a result of her being off balance and tipping toward him. it was not an attack. dodges | zero * - her height kept her head almost out of his reach in the way that rearing works; they use their head/neck for balance and for her to rear requires her head to be cranked back so naturally it was almost clear of his attack. immaculate crucifixion's speech azra'il's speech

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[bg=black][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] Ra'Zac

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'feel it slip away, slip away,
you know you're done for, you're done,
you can't get away, get away,
you know you're done for...
you're done for!!!'

- red, 'release the panic'

===

name- ra'zac
breed- 'lippitt' morgan
age- five years
gender- stallion
height- 15.2 (seems larger)
alliance- dark
health- 91% physical health / 100% mental health (questionable)
attack(s)- four three two one zero
dodges(s)- two one
words- 1670
attacks/dodges detailed- attacks - one attempt to kick at her hind legs, and one attempt to kick at her front legs, both attacks aiming to break bones or deal some sort of damage. all attacks used. / dodges - he dodged her attack at his stifle and jugular by veering to the left. since both that kick and bite were considered one attack, it was only one dodge.

- As of right now, there was no place Ra'Zac would rather be. Battle lust - so beautiful in its terror - was a high he just couldn't get enough of. The thrumming of his blackened heart slamming against his aching ribcage so hard he could almost taste the coppery blood welling on his tongue, because surely no muscle could slam that hard into solid bone and not be bleeding. Adrenaline and nerves sent spiraling out of control at the slightest movement, senses sharpened, spires of darkness plastered upon his crown, life's blood rushing down his dial to splash into the thirsty earthen stage as weapons sharper than ice sliced out at one another; truly this was what any battle hardened creature desired, longed for and dreamed of every single night they lay their scarred and battered forms to rest. Sure, he wasn't facing anyone truly important, but surely not even that bastard Caidas himself would make a better opponent than this delicious beauty right here. from the look in her voids, the way she held herself, the feel of her muscles has he had pressed against her flank, he couldn't help but admire her, desire her, and long for the taste of her crimson life-stream upon his tongue; what a glorious feeling...!

Once, long ago in a place long since annihilated, he had once worn a crown of brutality and glory in bloodshed, groomed since the day he had been dropped upon his godforsaken dust bowl to slay the one who sired him and strip him of everything he ever had. The charcoal beast had been there and done that, but it never satisfied him. He could have had every damn slut and filthy whore that walked those cursed plains, sired children of his own to one day repeat the cycle that had been passed down for generations, but that didn't entertain him. So he tossed his crown and title away and paved a path of destruction through the territory, leaving it to burn in poverty and cursing everyone who tried to stop him to the eleventh circle of Hell and back; since then he'd never once spared a thought towards them. He was out for himself, and he'd carve his curse into the hides of all who stood in his way.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to the larger femme as well as her toy queen; perhaps he could sense the same desires that burned in his soulless carcass within her. Infamy was a hard won goal for any who pursued it, no matter how ruthlessly or carelessly they reached for it. No czar could deny not having a fantasy or two about such a witch beneath them, and he wouldn't, but there was more to this than just the itch for a good fuck. His obsession with Tainted Love aside, there was always room for another worthy vixen in his book. When it came down to the nitty-gritty of it all, Ra'Zac was still a fighter, trained and bathed in the sport of bloodshed in any form; it was why he refused any and all simple femmes who would rather have a hellion fight their battles for them. If they couldn't even raise a knife in their own defense, how could they ever even hope to raise a child worthy of calling him 'sire'? Or even be in his presence for the most part? No, he would not waste worthless songs and pleasures on such weaker beings.

But this one... she was truly and utterly different, and that very fact was enough to fill him with excitement. He cared not of her height nor the amount of time she had spent on this world, he only cared about her will to fight, and how good she was at the craft. From the scars and the scent of decay on her flesh, his entire form shivered to think just how she had obtained them. Not for the first time, he knew he had made the right choice in leaving his homeland to fade away, where else but here would he get this kind of rush? These kinds of opponents and chances? Win or lose, it didn't matter - although he truly lusted for the main prize the victor would claim in the end, he could care less if he won the queen right now or not... one way or another, he would get Tainted Love, he had no doubts about that, so why not just enjoy the show and bet on the results? Was not even life itself a gamble after all? In his five lifetimes he'd spent upon this crater, he had never had a reason to fear anything, and even though the name Carnevale Letale was a nightmare for many, he couldn't find it in himself to fuss over such a thing as a dark herd's wrath. Make his world a living hell if they could; they'd have to beat him first, or catch him. And all he would spit in the pretty face of that dark queen would be bring it, he honestly needed the challenge.

Sadly, his chosen opponent/target was not as smart as he might've deemed her it seemed, as it was no attempt to look intimidating or fierce that brought the look into his gazers when he ripped away from her attack. Intimidation was so overrated; especially on hellbound demons like themselves. No, pleasure was the only thing bouncing in his think box when he felt those pearls slice through his flesh, the revel of the scent and sight of blood and feeling it slip away, slip away! Honestly, he would've cursed God and Satan themselves if he'd been born a rump licking light; how could no one not enjoy this?! 'Awhhh, look at your cute little face! I look more hellish when I'm sleeping, you pathetic fuck. Wow. Look how tough you are.'

his vocals broke out into fits of laughter then, skull shaking in mirth and sending his dark silks splaying as thunder rumbled in the distance, an almost perfect backdrop for such insanity. You're pretty, but that's about all you have if you can mistake pleasure for intimidation, for what use is such a low tactic here? his question was toned in the same mocking song she had spat at him, that cursed smirk crossing his maw once more before he arched his serpentine to his chest, running his tongue over the slash she had given him during his assault. Again, he'd taken her vicious attack, enjoying the seeping of the wound over his ebon stained hide as warmth left that particular area for the time being. Sad to say, it was nothing that wouldn't heal. But what a trophy he would hopefully have after the blood stopped.

Raising his maw from the wound, his velvets now soaked in his own fluids, he couldn't help but grin to himself, onyx sockets locking on the one single injury he'd managed to mar her with; only a superficial little scratch. Well, it wouldn't be that way for long - so he couldn't reach her cranium... there were still other places to reach that were just as devastating. But what a sight she made right now, with her own blood staining her kissers, he dare say they matched right now. Vampire he was not either, but unlike this war essa, he quite enjoyed the taste of copper on his tongue, especially if it belonged to someone else. After growing up where he did, how could he not? Aww, lookie there, you've got a lovely shade upon those lips of yours. Like mine? he chuckled, a single talon scraping against the sandy bowl he stood upon as tension ran through his form. Play time's over. Let's waste no more words here. Bite me, maul me! Let's stain this world in red tonight! and with that deceleration, he joined her in her rush, ivories flashing in the dim night light and talons scarring the battle stage beneath their war torn forms. Two Trojans, barreling at each other in a game of chicken - let them crash then! What fun that would be!

However, as their slits closed the distance between them, it was clear that while the stag's was as loose as a string in the wind, the vix's was as tense as a cannonball, every muscle of hers bunched together and dial swinging out to the side to protect her most vulnerable parts. Then he passed by him, and he suddenly veered to the far left as she struck, missing her attacking flints and ivories by a breath's hair and escaping unharmed. Now now, that would've have been a nice thing to do, no not at all. It seemed she wasn't getting the point of his earlier statement... well he never was one to just stand by while a maid was stumbling over herself in confusion. With a twist of his form, he half-reared and veered around again, slamming his frontal slits on the earth charging her again. This time, his bodice was the tension filled one, every muscle fiber ready for the attack.

You can't get away, get away without some form of injury this time. Unless she dodged or threw herself out of the line of fire... he'd make sure of that. As he passed by her corpse in the same movement she played on him, he lashed out at her own stifles with a vicious kick, enough force pushed behind the talons to shatter bone. As he said before, play time was over - if she wanted to kill tonight, he wouldn't just roll over and let her have her way with him... no matter how appealing that sounded. When he was just nearly clear of her, he circled back and lunged another attack at her, throwing another kick out towards her frontal pillars as he passed by once again. If she wanted to avoid a devastating injury, she best learn to dodge and quick - Ra'Zac would not be aiming so 'high' with this one again...

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[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,500,true] [atrb=background,http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/365/7/c/immaculate_s_table_by_legends_never_diexx-d5pv3hu.jpg,true] a divine embodiment of hell on earth name- Immaculate Crucifixion breed- Tennessee Walker x Westphalian age- Four gender- Mare height- 17hh alliance- Dark health- Physical - 70% | Mental - 75% The progression of this battle was drawing near to the close and the case would be left to be judged by higher powers than her own. Fear of losing was not an acceptable emotion for the war maiden and she did not dare to even think about the potential of failing herself, Necropolis, Azra'il, or even Caidas. Definitely not the evil entity from Below. Thus far, Azra'il had remained quiet and had not tried to intervene upon her actions. But now that she was coming down to her last choices of assault against the czar, he was starting to make himself known inside her jigsaw puzzled think box. But she was in the middle of a fight! She couldn't let him take up residence in her mind right now. She needed to stay focused. But the demonic hallucination would have none of that. "Step down darling, lay your concerns to rest and let me try my bloodied and well battled hand at this." His thoughts infiltrated her brain pan and she resisted any sort of notion for a few minutes. She had this under control. She didn't need anyone's help. "You are becoming mentally exhausted. Step down and let your Dark Father's minion soothe your mind." Despite Azra'il's soothing comments, he had no real power in this battle. He was simply a demonic oppression that occupied her think box but he held no real ties with The Underworld. He did not have any special 'powers' or any abilities beyond what her mortal vessel could provide. The only thing he could do was possess her. Fixion did not appreciate the insult that she was becoming mentally exhausted and she snarled under her breath, the comment falling on any harks that were listening but it was solely meant for the equine that she could only see. "Your guidance is failing. Do as you will or get out." The last two lyrics were forced out in such wretched tones that it almost strained her vocal chords. The ghastly oppression needed no other warning as the evil entity that was carried within her soul sent his presence crashing down on her entire vessel and senses. The dried and cracked terrain faded away into nothing as her sapphire spheres became visionaries that peered into a horrifically grotesque world. Claret clouds rolled in the distance as deafening screams of the agonized victims in Hell echoed throughout the expanse of territory. The atmosphere was tainted with sulfur and her labrums twitched as the stinging pain began to refocus her senses. She was no longer under her own will power and it had been an extremely long time since she had been reduced to such little control over her own vessel. The demonic oppression that resided within her had full control and she could not always account for every word spoken or every movement made. Internally, the oppression was suffocating her senses and smothering her thoughts into being purely driven by evil. Fixion wasn't sure if this evil came straight out of Hell or not though. Could Caidas himself create such horrors? It was a silly question but it occasionally was necessary to ask. The horrific monster that had overtaken her forced her limbs to move at his demonic will as she circled around to face the stag. In her conflicted pools, the freshly bleeding lacerations of the earth's flesh indicated where their battle had crossed the line of just being flesh wounds. In the middle of his assault, the other beast made a comment about pleasure being confused with intimidation and it being "such a low tactic here". Azra'il pitied the fool if he really thought intimidation mattered here. Eerie laughter left her vocal passage as Azra'il retaliated in her tongue, "Silly boy, this vix I house my oppression inside finds no greater pleasure in all arts of murder, fighting, and the insanity driven by the lust for just a drop of blood! You are an utter fool if you believe the mistress wallows in the false fears of intimidation for something like this." Now it had been made clear that Fixion was not entirely in her right mind, granted she never truly had been. But even if the demonic oppression spoke through her, it was still mostly her thoughts and her actions that drove Azra'il's speech. Her words were his words and vice versa. The filthy bag of bones and flesh had taken the witch's attack with little celebration. Shame, Azra'il thought the melodramatic beast would've enjoyed it more. Not that it mattered though. Clearly this runt just wanted the taste of blood on his lips and the thrill of fighting a grown bitch. It was a pity that the stag couldn't produce a better fight through all this. Is this really all that the world had to offer anymore? If so, the mortal world was becoming a sad pathetic place to be. The czar let his labrums soak up the claret fluid dripping from his chest cavity with a mocking song spewing from his larynx. Sapphire voids rolled in a bored manner as he mocked the witch in return. How cute. "Imitation, regardless of the type, is not a suggested form of flattery here." Azra'il held higher opinions than Immaculate did. She did not see herself as the best even though that was a dream that she constantly held high above her. The demon, however, found himself to be perfect in her vessel. It wasn't true at all though as he was living in a mortal, breakable doll. As the witch's chocolate frame rounded upon the cracked earth toward her opponent, carbon dioxide was pushed through her nasal passages in a loud snort of amusement. This guy thought he was all that didn't he? "Bite you? Maul you? My dear sir, I don't think those are things you really wish for her to remember you asking for." The same hollow tones of laughter left her larynx again as the witch's frame charged forward upon long limbs. Charcoal knives sliced into the earth as the claret heavens above rumbled and spat lightning strikes filled with the new flood of harvested souls. Soon, the splattering of fluid upon the ground began to fill the harks of the chocolate maiden since she was only able to listen to her own hallucinations and possessions. Claret stained blood began to rain down from the crimson skies, bathing the world in a curtain of scarlet. This was now perfect. This was now hers for the taking at the will of the monster inside her soul. The bastard wanted to stain the world red tonight? Well now he had it so. Unfortunately, he couldn't lay his visions upon such a sight since the cinematic environment lay open only for her. Now Azra'il had had enough of playing puppeteer. It was time for the strings be returned to the mistress. Ra'zac could have his way though. If he wanted his fight filled with melodramatics and hyped up gore, he could have it. Her vessel was not meant to come out of this battle unscathed anyway. She did not pussy foot around in these things, the blood and broken bones would come soon enough. The coward dodged her attack to his skull and stifle and spun away from her solitary attempted assault. As soon as he changed his body position so did she by digging her flints into the cracked earth and pivoting on her hocks.The war maiden's opponent charged for her again and this time she wasn't going to protect herself. Seventeen hands of muscle strapped estrogen propelled her frame toward his mirrored image. He then struck out at her stifles and with a quick movement, she dodged the swift talons flying for the vital fibers. That was her last proposal of no longer taking any harm from this fight. She had yet to sustain any vengeance worthy injuries or any real scar inducing marks. That had to change. Talons dug into the earth as she circled around upon the marred earth beneath their frames and galloped toward him. Pistons began to rise and fall faster and faster as her speed continued to build up. The end result wasn't going to pretty and she never intended for this fight to be pristine or precise. The czar rose and struck out his talons at a lower height and her knives dug into the earth faster as she continued to gain speed. She wasn't going to stop for him. Immaculate Crucifixion barreled right into his striking talons as her own corpse lifted to allow her to snap at his jugular. As she rose up against his frame, her labrums curled back in pain momentarily before a gleeful grin modified her expression greatly as his knives shredded her flesh over her broad chest. The force of colliding with his hooves at such speeds splintered her sternum and cracked several upper ribs. The collision knocked the oxygen out of her lungs upon impact and her visionaries blurred for a moment once her final assault occurred. Her fore limbs touched back down to the earth gingerly and she settled most of her weight on her hind end. Agonizing jolts of pain screamed through her fore end as the weight of her frame put pressure on her newly cracked ribs and sternum which made her chest cavity lose its stability and security around her organs. Claret liquid still trickled from the wound upon her skull but the injury seemed numb in comparison to her other injuries and broken marrow. The fight was one step closer to being finished. She wasn't sure of the outcome anymore. Her mind was slowly becoming fuzzy as the pain numbed her senses for the most part and for a split second, she struggled to find joy in it. She just hoped that her best was good enough for the looming powers above that handled these things. word count | 1,644 muse | none character | immaculate crucifixion status | complete music | Therapy Caravan of the Fair Room - Memphis May Fire notes | none attacks | 1 - attempt to bite around his eye, 2 - struck out at his chest 3 - kicked at his head and tried to bite his stifle, 4 - tried to bite his jugular vein. * - the point where it says she started to come crashing down on him was only a result of her being off balance and tipping toward him. it was not an attack. dodges | * - her height kept her head almost out of his reach in the way that rearing works; they use their head/neck for balance and for her to rear requires her head to be cranked back so naturally it was almost clear of his attack. 1 - she dodged his attack to kick at her stifles immaculate crucifixion's speech azra'il's speech

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[bg=black][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,false][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true] Ra'Zac

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'cause your trapped in the countdown,
and your days are numbered,
don't you know that your done for?
right now, lights out! let your panic out!'

- red, 'release the panic'

===

name- ra'zac
breed- 'lippitt' morgan
age- five years
gender- stallion
height- 15.2 (seems larger)
alliance- dark
health- 84% physical health / 100% mental health (questionable)
attack(s)- four three two one zero
dodges(s)- two one zero
words- 1356
attacks/dodges detailed- attacks: none / dodges: flung his head in the opposite direction and avoided the bite for his jugular, but received a fracture in his right hip from the force in which fixion met his final attack. *also had a few capillaries in his nose burst from the stress of the battle on his bodice. all dodges used.

- At last, this wondrous battle was starting to stale, a sad, oh so sad truth, but one that must be accepted in the end, for nothing that is this utterly good ever lasts in this cold world. Whether with the strike of the reaper himself upon the weaker, the loss of life blood from a grievous wound, or from the true terror that is a stalemate between two of the strongest demons that walk this mortal coil, one way or another, every war finds its end, and the scars remain for each. There was no fear in Ra'Zac's being, not an ounce - win or lose, he came out the victor; the molten beauty that bore the injuries of his attacks would be a wondrous prize, but he could do without her, and as for the true apple of his gaze, the splinter in his sockets he couldn't take out, he would find a way to get her too should this scuffle turn from his favor. He'd not be able to snatch her away in a challenge like this against this amazon of women again, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to challenge the mahogany temptress herself again. What was a slave without a master, a pet without an owner? Tainted Love would be free if this woman fell to him, and then he'd come in and snatch her up himself. Oh yes, the sting of sanity was returning... what a pity.

Unlike the half sane murderess before him, or at least as rumors say there was, no demonic presence, real or otherwise, existed within the think box or form of this shaded creature, although when one has been raised in such brutality, insanity comes with the territory - Ra'Zac was no exception. With the excitement came a sense of instability, and with the release returned the true serpent that lied beneath, fangs hidden and coils tightening. The brute stood stock still now, the smirk long gone from his velvets, slits narrowed and nares flaring with each breath drawn into his chassis, the clashing of dark crimson flesh, alive with the flow of blood through straining capillaries, against obsidian stains as a new flow of life escaped his bodice, flowing from his nostrils like rivers and filling his brain pan with his own wretched scent. The loss of the life-giving crimson liquid was starting to play with his senses; colors were blurring together under a haze of slowly registering pains, sharp jolts and dull aches beneath the waterfall of carmine flowing from the open gash upon his chest. Strange that only a moment ago, he knew exactly how he received it, yet now for the life of him he couldn't focus long enough to recall.

It would seem he wasn't the only one feeling the effects of war either, if the actions of his antagonist were of any clue. But then again, he'd met others who acted stranger and were perfectly healthy and eager; too bad the laugh that echoed into his towers told him absolutely nothing except that she was probably as insane as the rumors told, and that he was apparently not fighting a one on one, but rather a one on two force. 'Silly boy, this vix I house my oppression inside finds no greater pleasure in all arts of murder, fighting, and the insanity driven by the lust for just a drop of blood! You are an utter fool if you believe the mistress wallows in the false fears of intimidation for something like this.' now the cursed smirk reappeared, undergoing his own metamorphosis of sorts as the beast inside tamed and the serpent reared itself from the earth, the echo of the warning rattle shattering the silence as a talon tapped upon the scarred terra and voids disappeared behind shifting curtains. So the rumors are true, you really are bat-shit crazy. he laughs, vocals smooth, unhurried, and completely unfazed by the change in his rival, towers slowly raising back up from the banner of hell that rested on his crest, trying to catch everything - this had just gotten ever more interesting. 'Imitation, regardless of the type, is not a suggested form of flattery here.' the roll of orbs told volumes, but so did the the shake of the dial from the opposite corner.

Flattery? now that was cute. Please, flattery? That shit's got no place here. don't bring such superficial things into a contest of skill. No one's trying to flatter anyone here... well, unless the loom of death is a form of flattery. the song is sung so soothingly, the pink muscle flashing over his labrums, soaking in the taste of his own fluid and smearing it across his velvets ever further. Once more, the tones that were sung to a different beat reached out, scratching against his inner drums in an irritating manner. He'd much rather have Fixion herself truly speaking rather than some weak manifestation. 'Bite you? Maul you? My dear sir, I don't think those are things you really wish for her to remember you asking for.' audits flicked back and forth, trying to wipe out the tone from his memory, carbon flashing against the chilly atmosphere in a snort of annoyance. Don't remind me - all I have to remember this fight is a scar against my chest and above my temple. Do you know how easily those heal and how cleanly? larynx released a snarl as lanterns rolled in their holes, ivories gritted together in his fury at being denied his request. But i suppose it won't be a total loss, when I take both you and her, and Queenie herself back with me. yes, that would be a nice consultation prize wouldn't it?

Smirk once more appeared upon velveteens, and tension returned to muscular stilts, every fiber ready as the chocolate monster began her final attack. Finally, I was beginning to think this was gonna last till morning! You back in charge honey? Or is your little friend still on the line? and then she was upon him, ranging hormones and muscle and fury. She was so hyped up about her size, it was just too adorable, one downfall about size though was that it wasn't that fast, and Ra'Zac was fast - fast enough to strike out those two times in quick succession and avoid deadly injury in almost the same second. With a pivot of flints, she managed to dodge the first one, but with another movement, she had barreled right into the second one, his hind talons knocking into her chassis with a satisfying pound of hardness against bone. A flash of yellow struck out at his jugular once more; again with that attack really? All he needed was to fling his crown to the side, and her enamels fell on empty air. A strike of talons against the earth, and the two warring sides separated once again, only this time there would be no returning strike.

Trapped in the countdown both had been, yet now it was all over, and who the victor was? Well, not even he could tell anymore. Her ivories had not touched him again since the first strike against his silhouette, but damn that woman, she knew how to make one feel the sting of their own venom. While he might've crushed her sternum, she had dealt him a far more concerning wound from the sheer force of her charge. He couldn't put weight on his right hind without a searing sting shooting right to his brain, there was without a doubt a fracture in his hip - perhaps not life threatening, but without a doubt it would put him out of commission on the battlefield for a while. Heh, just his luck - the final blows had been dramatic; a perfect end to a perfect night. Orbs sparkled in satisfaction as his tassel whipped against his hindquarters, a wince and harsh breath accompanying the sudden flash of agony that sparked over his orbs. Still, the smirk remained, and despite it all, he felt he'd done his job and done it well...

Now, who would walk away with the prize?

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ooc: this battle can now be judged! 83 yays!

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I will tally. I will post the results as soon as I get the forms back from selected staff <3

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Results

Vin playing Immaculate Crucifixion

Quality Over Quantity - 14
No God Modeling or Powerplaying - 14
Realism of Attack - 11
Attack Compared to Opponent - 13
Completion of Form - 14
Spelling and Grammar - 13
Total - 79 points.

Snowy playing Ra'Zac

Quality Over Quantity - 14
No God Modeling or Powerplaying - 13
Realism of Attack - 12
Attack Compared to Opponent - 13
Completion of Form - 15
Spelling and Grammar - 15
Total - 82 points.

Congrats to Snowy with Ra'Zac

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So Shorty is a fucking idiot, and completely mixed all the scores up.... I just realized as I was going back through the scores since the people I asked to tally switched them around, I hurried and fucked things up. So I'm calling these tallies null and asking a new staff member to tally and new staff members to judge please =/ Sorry Snowy and Vin, I didn't mean to be a pain in the ass about it... Pregnancy hormones are not working with me....

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Jen asked me to Tally this. So I will. New judgment to come.

-pets Jen-

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Results

Vin playing Immaculate Crucifixion

Quality Over Quantity - 13
No God Modeling or Powerplaying - 14
Realism of Attack - 13.5
Attack Compared to Opponent - 14.5
Completion of Form - 15
Spelling and Grammar - 11.5
Total -81.5 points.

• accounts for injuries in the form, but in the writing does not really express the effect that her feigning physical health was having on the battle. Talked about when they happened, but then were forgotten about it seems.
  
• focused a lot on her height, like A LOT, and I felt as though it was trying to make it so that she clearly was going to be better off even after his attacks.
  
• Perfect lenght of battle posts ! Not to long and not to short. Get‘s to the point of what‘s going on. Doesn‘t get lost in the text. Flow is good.
  
• Could be even more brutal than those attacks she did.
  
• That font is really hard to read. Few spelling/ grammar errors but nothing that was major distracting.
  
• Wonderfully done, kinda like a dance. Learned a new word, stifle!

Snowy playing Ra'Zac

Quality Over Quantity - 12.5
No God Modeling or Powerplaying - 14
Realism of Attack - 11.5
Attack Compared to Opponent - 12.5
Completion of Form - 15
Spelling and Grammar - 12
Total - 77.5 points.

• the line "Sinful pleasure and agony flooded his reception of, hitting his sensors so hard it almost knocked him off centre;" - I didn't think that this made sense. I feel like there is a word missing?
  
• run on sentences
  
• when Crucifixion hits his chest, pretty much all that is said about it is that he licked his wound. Not much account for the effect that this wound had.
  
• Posts start out good and interesting. Then they take a dive down and are not as interested anymore, just a part to make the post longer. In the end they take a dive up again and are fun and interesting to read.
  
• Found some attack a bit unrealistic due to the height difference.
  
• Needed more flow in the text at times. Had to go back and re-read some sentances to find out what were going on.
  
• General Attacks used, nothing that made me go oh!
  
• Well done I say!
  

Congrats to Vin with Immaculate Crucifixion