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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2013 17:40:11 GMT -7
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Name- Kratos Breed- Zebra|Shire|Fjord|Clydesdale Age- 7 Gender- XY Height- 19hh Alliance- Dark Health- 100% Me & Kal decided on 3 hits, 1 dodge. 500 minimum, 2,000 max. 7 days to reply Ω Death rode, noxiously, aloft the granular Chinook toying about the elongated dreadlocks at his quads and into the eagerly-accepting-pores, that were the entrancing tunnels into his amplified sinuses. The rancid perfumes registered within his biological clockworks, eliciting an explosion of euphoric and uncanny desire for the sanguine fluids that ran through the venations of his foolish guest's flesh. Speaking of whom, had yet to manifest into view from the infinitismal horizon, to meet his bloodthirsty cry for war. He had not met this one known by "The Shadow" before -Luke Skywalker's savior- but he chortled deep within the interval flexing of his tracheal sinews at the cliche name. Was this lamentable, lack of originality supposed to induce choking anxiety into their witnesses? Again, his guttural, amused, tunes shot from their piped barrels and into the reposed atmosphere; purging the silence with their singing potential of mockery. Corpulent, paraphernalia pistons lifted beneath him, overstepping the gangling bodies of perished crusaders; gaping through their abyssal, sightless, chasms into the void, and forth moving. The finer articulations of his hellion genes were vibrant in the character of his engulfing stride. Morsels of chipped calcium crunched under the sharp placement of his massive cloves, signing the Soddy basis with their formidably-sized crescents. Cracked, skeletal, memoirs embellished the renowned facet of the Battle Zone, tailoring it -in all it's funerary splendor- for it's title. It was easy for the ochroid virile to appreciate the grotesque complexity that pieced the dominion together. The macabre abstractions were nothing short of grandeur and invitational in the concepts of his labyrinthine mind. The countless dead imbued the realm with a daunting severity for it's dire intentions; however, the severed-beef flapping in the zephyr, no longer tethered to it's unfortunate master; sprawled -with a gouged esophagus- 'pon the desiccated and fractured lithosphere did not strike Kratos. He merely casted an unmoved glare 'pon the mud encompassing the thoughtless carcass, tainted with a glistening scarlet. Lucky for The Shadow, he/she would not bow to the misfortune similar to the transcendent's foul-fate today. Kratos had other plans for this ballsy competitor, as well as for their nuisance of a liege. Oh yes, how they will writhe in their too-small-cages, coveted in the barbwire of his damnable schemes. The analogy was flawless in this, for the more they struggled, the more detriment they would inflict unto themselves. The pair would be their own destruction. It was not the art of war was it? To figure out how to use the opponents own technology and use it against them? The Pandemoniac thoughts settled like stirred dust in his mind, allowing the lonesome wind to be heard, howling around his be-stilled chassis amidst the rubble of lost bone structures. The minuscule currents of oxygen fingering his column-short-mane until it danced like stalks of grass, gracefully along his sinuous crest. Maroon reflectors ensnared the environment in their snaky, observatory, pupils. Ω A spasmodic shift in the backdrop warranted his unwanted attention. The umbra from the vespertine stillness -half enveloping the stage- moved, but didn't. Something inside of the umbrage moved. A smaller life form from the silhouetted hint. Oh now wasn't this just a peachy element? A bantam contestant would present themselves for this battle. Muscles trimmed his figurine, taut in preparation as a viper about to assault it's unsuspecting prey. Osseous matter sifted under approaching feet, rattling agin the solid rock. Feminine aromas impetuously glided over the sensory glands within the depths of his flared nostrils. A female? Brows furrowed on his visage. His blatant disappointment visible without the privileges of a masquerade forelock. Luke Skywalker was having his women fight his battles for him? What an imbecilic czar! So this is how he labored? This is how he became the hero? He stole from the dark alliance, meddling in business that was not his own, but come game time for reprisal; his stolen girls would step up to the plate hiding behind their forte for raging hormones, like the panic-stricken colt he was. This extorted a ghoulish snarl from the claret-craving chambers riling within himself. The bedlam intensity of his ferocity seeping through the potent radiation of his auras as the moments, shriveled, before his unforgiving-inanimate-vision, but not lost to the cataclysmic torrents. He was counting. Each, singular, second she remained submerged in the paltry refuge of shadow. Contently, he attempted to anticipate this equine's motivations; her intentions, actions, thoughts, whatever could be unveiled unknowingly 'pon her fickle countenance. Whoever was here as the speaker of the Versai scum, she must love the poor sap of a man, which meant that could be her likely motivation. The star-crossed lover sacrificing herself for his keepsake. Her intentions were obvious; to keep him safe and out of the clawing hands of enemies. Her thoughts were perpetually unknown to him thanks to the hands of reality, so chasing for the whereabouts and meaning of them was a fruitless mission, unless Kratos obtained some miraculous gain of telepathy, which too, was a fruitless matter. Kratos sated himself with the only, common option given to him. Waiting. Plume coiled through the air, whipping across the solidified surface of his rump; striking the python-like muscle meandering and contracting beneath his dun-hued, leather, wrappings. Intimidating structure bloated with congregated thews, fluctuating with ribbons of amassed commodities, flaunting the terrible clout that awaited for her behind each concentrated blow. A single strike would be like a boulder adverse twig material. Fate would frown upon her with one successful connection unto her from his behemoth clefts. The annihilating, commenced, images wrangled a twisted, hard liquor, cackle. It dropped from his lips, venomous and biting like the purity of rubbing alcohol on the back of one's throat. " Come on out banshee." Infernal syllables, charring on their carbon ride, penetrated scathingly from his maw. He had, had enough of her dawdling. Kratos was ready to ensue in his first battle, here in Wild Equines. He was far from being a virgin to battles in general, but he would enjoy popping the cherry for Wild Equines. Ω Chassis recoiled like a poisonous cobra, coaxing his brawny shanks to embark on looping over the arenaceous plain; ungulates passing just inches over the surface. Flights were fluent as liquid; effortlessly placed in precision; charlestoning to some morbid symphony of alluring iniquitous value that no one, but the moving, villainous, snake could, hark. Compact boa curled ever so delicately and threateningly toward his gorge, allowing the wire-like hairs 'pon his lower jaw to brush against his esophagus. The vibrant pulsation of his jugular injecting the adrenaline throughout his systems in a matter of seconds, but mildly induced. He could feel his inner instincts taunt that caged animal. The claws braying on the walls of his mind; his resolve was faltering, but he still remained in control of the savage. He leased the inner demon substantial control, but not entirety. The Jezebel would have done better fleeing, but her garish pretense of playing bodyguard would cost her the freedom she once knew. Kratos would not tolerate the interceptions from outside parasites, not without consequential turn outs. The Shadow would make a fine addition to his starting collection. Her anguished, paralyzing shrieks will echo soundly and beautiful throughout Pandemoniac Ridge, while her doltish lover wreaked havoc on himself in his tined bondage. These lights were going to learn their place in this alliance food chain. They were not going to steal deserving slaves from lords anymore. Should the "dynamic duo" be so inclined, -and Kratos so generous- they would be privileged to stare at the back of their own damned eyelids for all of eternity, or at least until they opened their visionaries to the burning, brimstone kingdom and caught under the elevated hoof of Caidas. Kratos cackled maniacally to himself, but the expression was evanescent before the bull-work of his physique lunged forward from taut, hind, pillars. Frontal regions colliding with the lapidarian crust, glittering enamels flashing under the failing eventide sun. He was quick for his size, but was it affordable? Would he purchase on the tender, pliant skin 'pon her rolling blade? He wanted it. The unstaunched flow of her hemoglobin spattering over the layers of countless others. She would be nothing more than just another smudge, but fortunate for her, she wasn't his true target. Luke was, and my, my how Kratos would make his cruor rivulet at his feet. All he had to do was win this delaying battle. |Muse| Excellent |Status| Complete |Count| 1414 |Music| My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark - Fallout Boy |Dodges| 1 |Hits| 3| 2 |Notes| May the best horse win ;D
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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2013 19:18:16 GMT -7
the SHADOW [/size][/font] Name- the shadow Breed- American Cream Draft & Quarter Horse & Gypsy Vanner & Friesian & Shire & Peruvian Paso & Andalusian Age- 3 Gender- MARE Height- 17.0 hh Alliance- light {former dark} Health- Suffers from schizophrenic tendencies & derealization
The golden female knew that life was about to become serious, that she was fixing to do something she had almost never done before. Why did she step up to the plate if she knew she was going to freak out about it. She didn't think this was real, like life was just joking with her. She had seen herself standing there in a pool of blood with him standing over her. Her son would be crying and her king would be taken. What would become of her? Would she did or would she live only to become a slave to Kratos? She knew with every fiber in her bone that she would do what she could so she could stay with her colt. He was only three or four months old and needed his mother, she didn't want him to grow up to be a major screw up like herself. She knew she wouldn't ever become much, but she knew she needed to try. She would battle for his life and her own apparently, their terms had come to an agreement. But if she won then he couldn't come after her king again, which made her very proud. But still she was starting to get paranoid, that more people would be coming for her and her son Nazz. Her schizophrenic tendencies would probably make her go insane before she turned ten, if she couldn't get help. But she knew there was no help for the truly crazy. She didn't honestly believe she was insane but her derealization made her think her whole life was a lie. That she wasn't sick and that everything was just fine, but in her heard she knew it was a lie. She had moments of sanity, to where she knew what she was doing. Which was the cause of her agreement to this battle of Jedi's Return. Kratos would pay for the attack against her king, for even trying to threaten him. Yes her king had caused this and brought this upon himself, but a king was nobody if he didn't have any soldiers. She supposed she would be a solider for him, but yet what would be her reward? She knew she would more and likely just get a pat on the back and a good job. But the only reward she truly wanted was to be healed of these ailments that plagued her mind, but that would come after death she supposed.
Her king had been in a few battles himself lately, so she supposed it was time he had a break. She needed to really be supportive, even thought she wanted a life of quite. She didn't want a lot of commotion, but she made the choice to join his herd. She wasn't too thrilled about the whole Versai idea, but it was something new. She would just have to give it a try and maybe something good would come of it? Growling for a moment, the golden female was slowly moving to the battle field. She knew there would be bloodshed and she knew it would be a mixture of theirs. But who would spill the most blood and who would lose it? Letting out a breath, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Pinning back her ears, she was trying to get herself in a good enough mood but something stopped her. It was something she had seen rarely and it was a hallucination of a dying foal. She stopped to stare at the foal, getting close enough to it that she could almost smell the blood. Her paper thins flared, her body was now high on adrenalin that ran threw her body. This whole blood idea was starting to bring back the darker side of her, the side that was hidden away under three layers of dust and dirt. She had forgotten a lot of things, but it was bred into her. She knew she came from a very dark sire and a bitch of a dame. But that was about all she knew, so this whole battling thing may actually be in her blood.
Letting out a deep breath, she realized she was closer to the battle field than she had thought. She caught his words on the whispering wind. “Come on out banshee” But for some reason his vocal calling didn't really do much to put the mare in an alert state. Her mind was going haywire and she wasn't sure if she wanted to stay and fight or flee like the sissy female she felt like she was. A deep breath came out of her muzzle and she shook her head, before she pawed at the earth before herself. She was ready to fight now, she wasn't about to drop out anytime soon! Moving along for a moment, she finally came to into the battlefield. She was going make herself shown now, because she needed to prove a point. “Why do you think I am hiding bastard? I was simply biding my time until the time was right.” She smirked as she spoke to him, before pawing again before of him. She was very, very curious of what he would do now. He was massive, more massive than what she had originally thought. But it was no matter for she was about to do something so stupid, she never thought she would. But before the golden mare had a chance, he lunged forward. His hooves made contact with her shoulder, making her tumble to the right. She found half way on the ground and half way standing. Massive hoof prints where on her shoulder and she could feel it starting to bruise. Blood started to come for there was a large slice on her shoulder, she looked down at it and instantly her mind turned. There was no scared light who was battling for her king, her dark blood was now awake and flowing. She snorted and growled, hooves hitting the ground in annoyance. She let out a deep breath and jumped forward off the ground. Her muzzle was coming his way and it looked like his ear, forelock and eye was in the way. She was hoping to bite one of the areas with her mighty leap. Shaking her head when she got up to what she was aiming for, she wasn't about to let go unless he knocked her off so now what would his next move be? Hooves hit the ground from losing traction and her weight, she jolted away from the stallion and waited for his next move.
Words: 1098 Muse: wonderful! Status: done Hits: 1 2 3 Dodges: 1 Post Breakdown: Jumped upward to attack either his ear, eye & short forelock. Battle Damage & Health: 95 % - - - Two massive hoof prints on her shoulder with a large slice that is bleeding
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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2013 12:49:43 GMT -7
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Name- Kratos Breed- Zebra|Shire|Fjord|Clydesdale Age- 7 Gender- XY Height- 19hh Alliance- Dark Health- 90% His eye is sliced & bleeding
Ω Fortune was definitely frowning on this maiden in this twilight spar, for he felt the flexible compliance of her flesh push, briefly, back against his unrelenting force, but without avail and broke; sliced under his ravaging touch. He tittered wickedly in his idled position, watching her stunned, staggering embodiment struggle to regain her lost equilibrium. “Why do you think I am hiding bastard? I was simply biding my time until the time was right.” Her choice of slithering, grime resonated through his embracing harks. The string of dialect generated an unimpressed roll in the pits of his thickened skull. Did this golden trophy whore really expect him to believe the murk in her mouth? " Right... and I suppose these guys are just waiting to surprise us with good news?" Goliath cerebellum comically gestured toward the lacerated bodies strewn about the arena boundary, inlaid in their own waste. The decimated gore an amusing reassurance they were in fact, gone to the Gehenna. Abruptly with a determined upheaval, the wench was back to her former stance and not a moment's breath could be sipped before she lurched, quick like a disturbed hare evading the famished jowls of the savage wolf. A hessian of his magnificent size was too slow to avoid the full augmentation of wounds, and thus he didn't try to. Her Carnassials slid down the supple flesh to his left ocular. Immediately the searing paroxysm birthed from the broken epidermis intoxicated his mind and a minuscule trickle of vital fluid proceeded down the length of his jawline. The view from that side was now hindered by the weeping wound, but luckily his orb was unscathed itself. Choleric growl shoved valiantly through the distending passages of his larynx, resounding-bellow emitted from behind bared bridgework. The 19hh sage pushed his abdomen from the firma, pitching his anatomy skyward while simultaneously thrusting his pinnacle back in an attempt to send the petite bitch flying from him, but before the task could be upheld and completed, the mare separated away herself; out of reach; eying him as if he were a lost colt, deciding where the next pawn would be set in this deadly game of chess. The burning tear around his lampistra thrummed like war drums in his ears. The raw, exposed interior whining their splitting dismays into the forefront of his cerebral cortex. Exhilarating; riveting; feeding the voracious furnace of his innermost self. Incandescence flickered and licked just within the glass walls of his crimson glare. Cauterizing; loathsome; hellish as it bore onto her smaller, frailer, tenement.
Ω He squared himself in place, leering eerily toward her with his good eye. His mind's estate began to crumble and degenerate under the restless grapnel barbs of his grasping, inner, beast. He flattened his audio sentinels, but his expression maintained it's austere fortitude, if The Shadow thought she would get him to unravel by a measly little flesh wound, she would be disappointed. The colossal vagabond shifted on his ready daggers, feeling the vibrations of impact -against the promontory base- reverberate through his congealed masses. He glared at the mare, whom struck the crag stage with an impatient flint. He could feel the strain on the corners of his maw; both amused and mildly impressed by her antsy behavior. He did not think she lusted for the sweet numbness, only death could give, so readily. Now the seriousness laid like a picnic blanket, around them. Kratos let a brief moment of thought to be had, before his liberal form jerked forward once again 'pon armored limbs. Ivories flickered dangerously toward her unprotected nape, but he felt those molars snick on empty air the first strike around. This didn't deter him. Kratos snapped like a ravenous canine, awaiting to pinch some form of sinew between those greedy incisors. After the initial snips and bites he threw, his sallow assembly swung on it's axle. His broad keister circulating around to collision the poor mistress off her already unreliable footing and harshly against the rocks; where, once she lay, his front flints could crush her. Kratos then retreated a few, handful, of steps; watching the minx with his keen, singular, vermilion eye. Her similar hued essence reflected in the sinister-colored iris; targeted, imprisoned in the malign concepts of his twisting genius. He imagined -ever so sweetly- her beautiful bodice crumpled to the cell floor; embroidered by a new cluster fuck of wounds; splashing and grasping for life in her own puddle of waste. The Shadow screaming for the life of her beloved king; back in his dark kingdom. The harsh melody of impious laughter docked in the saturated synthetics of his contorting pharynx, but his stoicism remained resiliently in place; fixated. He continued to reverie about the negative turn outs for his standing enemies. Oh, Luke's cherished little lady was already bleeding excessively from her mortal wounds and he repeated the beguiled bearing. How it will be such a reunion when Luke accepts his slavery, but unsuspecting of the deal struck between Kratos and The Shadow. Kratos was confident that he would leave with both lives in two and this prompted comical thoughts. He could see Luke's shocked and infuriated reaction as Kratos herded her into a cell. Luke was going to thrash around and scream for vengeful blood by dawn breaks.
Ω Now he sojourned. His pristine chasm never leaving her facade; watching for mixed emotions, or perhaps an individual rage that would manipulate her features into a poor excuse of a fear factor. In this, he wanted to see, to sneer at her mediocre guise. Her playing part as "soldier" to the king was in vain. She had years and milestones before achieving the skill of the Elite Executioner of Carnevale Letale. Yes, Kratos was equal contribution to the life-futile hardships held with demonic glory inside of Necropolis' fearsome citadel. He was the Elite of the killers and poor Luke and his demeaning, little, "courtesan" will figure out soon enough, just how hard those hardships were. " Come on Doll face... You're playing with me." Complacent, virulent, vocal obligations were inclement. His tongue running suave and provocative across the chapped, upper-brim 'pon his aperture. A fine inversion for the heat of this event. " Luke will be so, stunned when his damned eyes watch you fill into a cell... " Lyrics fell from between his glistening, dental-work. Let her get pissed, let her charge. He wanted to see her feral side before he sedated it. Kratos wanted to see everything burst at the seams through her eyes. She was fighting a futile battle, but the change of pace from lounging at home and barking commands to his fellow herd was a nice refreshment. The metallic taste of his own crimson, on the tip of his savoring tongue was refreshing. Their smell mingling with the heat of their bodies and the scent of her spilt juice, it made his groin harden with lust. Perhaps this bitch could be a play thing for the entirety of her stay. Oh indeed, he would implant her with all the misery he could. This was her punishment for interfering.
|Muse| Excellent! |Status| Complete |Count| 1194 |Music| -- |Dodges| 1 |Hits| 3|2|1|0
|Summary| He tried to bite her and then tried to knock her down so he could bring his front hooves down onto her again.
|Damage| A bleeding cut to the left eye
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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2013 13:11:38 GMT -7
the SHADOW [/size][/font] Name- the shadow Breed- American Cream Draft & Quarter Horse & Gypsy Vanner & Friesian & Shire & Peruvian Paso & Andalusian Age- 3 Gender- MARE Height- 17.0 hh Alliance- light {former dark} Health- Suffers from schizophrenic tendencies & derealization
Her mind as not the the same anymore. It had changed into something that she was familiar with, but she knew she could handle. But a break in her thoughts, her mind snapped out of reality and she felt like she was watching a battle between two horses. She wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it looked like they where going to kill each other if possible. It was like she was seeing this from somebody who was watching this battle. She was hallucination, because she was the one who was fighting this battle. His voice snapped her back into this world, her hallucination was no more and she growled. “What good news is that? That your a stupid bastard who's going to lose and made a mistake?” she asked, her voice growled as she spoke. Her blue eyes where almost a darker color, like it wasn't the same. Her body was shaking now, from the pain and the blood but also what was going on around her. She closed her eyes for a moment and shifted her weigh, her tall body was only a few inches shorter than his own. But it was enough to make a difference between the two of them. She cocked her head, before opening her eyes to look at him. Would he really dare to hurt her just yet, wouldn't he want her in a good shape? She wouldn't really do what he wanted willingly so he might as well get used to her fighting him back.
She snorted and growled, her hooves pawing at the earth even more and more. Her body was starting to ache and her mind was flaring. Almost everything she could think of was not the same anymore. She felt different, she felt like she was turning into a monster. But maybe she needed to be to protect her leader and herself. She blinked, before she looked towards him. He was coming towards her again, but more like he was stalking. She kept herself in check, not daring to let him get to close. Shifting her weight, she thought about what he would do. But she knew it would be pointless for her to react before he even attacked. Cocking her head and flicking her harks, she heard him. He went for the attack to bite her, but it was truly something major. She felt him bite her and it hurt, blood was already pouring for the wound. She turned her head quickly to knock into his own head, hoping to cause him some head pain and maybe a concussion. She snorted and looked at him, her own head was hurting as it was. She growled lightly, before she noticed his back end coming her way. She jumped backwards, sliding on her own footing and looking at him. She had gotten away from his attack, but almost fell in the process. She had to jump a little bit to miss his hooves that where fixing to land. She cocked her head and eyed him.
She waited for the right time, before she let her eyes widen. She let out a long and deep breath, before she charged him. When she got close enough to him, her body raised up from the ground and her front legs went flying. She was aiming to attack his head with her hooves, she was hoping to do some serious damage of some sort. She was aiming to hurt him maybe even make the head butt she did early even worse. She growled and flicked her tail as she landed upon the ground. She stepped backwards and bowed her head towards him. She gave off a small smirk and shifted her weight, listening to him speak. “Oh no. I think I've had enough of your childish attacks.” she spoke with her tones in monotone. She looked around, looking at her own damage and then back to him, hoping she did something worth remembering. “I doubt it you will never find he likes of me in anything you own.” she spoke, her voice was in the middle of changing. She let out a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She let her mind settle and her body adjust to the pain. When she was finally feeling the pain from his attacks and the blood that was coming down her body. She looked at him, her eyes had finally faded back to the blue they where supposed to be.
Words: 748 Muse: So-So Status: Done Hits: 1 2 3 Dodges: 1 Post Breakdown: She head butted him when he bit her neck and then jumped away when he went to knock her down. She waited and then finally charged him and jumped upwards to knock his head with her hooves. Hoping to give him a concussion or something. Battle Damage & Health: 80% - - - Two massive hoof prints on her shoulder with a large slice that is bleeding. Her bit her neck, close to her back and she has a large bite mark.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2013 8:53:07 GMT -7
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Name- Kratos Breed- Zebra|Shire|Fjord|Clydesdale Age- 7 Gender- XY Height- 19hh Alliance- Dark Health- 75% His eye is sliced & bleeding. A cut to his shoulder & A Headache
Ω “What good news is that? That [you're] a stupid bastard who's going to lose and made a mistake?” Her cherub words sliced the air, aiming for a kick at his dispositions, but the petty spear of dialect bounced off his armored breast plate; too dense for the likes of her to worm through. Again his globes rolled -half-heartened- in their beds. The dysfunctional fem announced his defeat when her, herself -not applying Kratos to the scenario of him beating her effortlessly- was on a one way ticket to self-destruction. She honestly thought he didn't notice? The quivering surges that undertook her nervous system when she first approached the arena; the dilated pupils when they laid onto the gore from recent victories. She was a mobile time bomb; awaiting for just the right "knock" in the side, to rupture into anarchic disarray. Her trembling attempt of retaining restraint on her inner demons, were as plain as an ocean on a map. She was not deceitful, but then again, Kratos wasn't entirely sure if she was even trying to conceal it. He bluntly stared at her morphing vision. The radiant switch-over of cyan hues. She must know how her mutation -into what was purposed to be hidden- demonstrated across her readable character. Kratos generously allowed a window of emotion to blossom across the stern, bloodied, masquerade that had precedent control. His features gnarling into a spectral show of drastic enjoyment. " So quick to judge, when not even apart of the tribunal pick." brumal, vociferation, polluted the atmosphere in all their pestilential resplendence. A dark, Beelzebub, convulsion shook his rugged cage, contemplating the lass in the turbulent threads of his mind. Her body shivered under the torment of her arduous lesions, or perhaps her burnished, metaphysical-self couldn't bare the garnishing death around the coliseum; either way, she was collapsing before him. Her anguish was far worse than Kratos'. Luke Skywalker and his "trusted" cunt were going to be in shackles. " Don't amuse yourself "The Shadow". You've already wasted my time and your blood for this damnable tiff." Acrid syllables endured. " Your feet will soon be shuffling across cobblestone floor, while your mind languidly disintegrates, then you can preach about mistakes." His serrated tongue twisted and rolled in his orifice; producing the acidic articulations, aspired to leech out her fury. His plumage flicked across his rump, stinging the drawn skin with their thin, wire-like, follicles. Massive skull jerked on it's stem, skyward; varying it's usual plane with a slight angle toward the firmament. Now he could transfix her in his good globe. His cardinal slip, vigilant about her next movements.
Ω The Shadow had managed to almost dodge all of his earlier onslaught, except for the iron clamp of his jowls. Her cherry liquids savory across his stained pegs and hankering palate, but his reward did not come without sacrifice. The moment his bicuspids enclosed around her feeble flesh, her cerebral unit buffeted his own -painfully so-. His cranium aching, he wanted more of her desirable fluid, but knew his turns were spent. They were gone to the floury gusts and into the gaping mouth of Oblivion; however, The Shadow still had one more spin to trifle with and it didn't take eternity for her to act upon it. She charged him; up heaving her physique from the horizontal planes of the earth and boxing the air toward his already nagging skull. Kratos side-stepped her; oscillating his summit out of her wrathful assailments, but the length of his grandiose build failed to elude her attack altogether. Her vindictive enamel struck the tender region of his shoulder blade; cleaving the tissue and through some muscle. A low bellowing erupted from the recesses of his deep-set chambers. He was irate about the spate of life's, sweet, nectar that cascaded down the haggard contours of his limb and basined on the mineral sod at his feet. He menaced her retreating figure through slit rage; watching her dip her pretty tiara, but not without the gracious presence of an entertained smirk."Oh no. I think I've had enough of your childish attacks.” Auditory units tightened in their flattened state and his atramentous margins peeled back; revealing the slick, red-tainted lacquer, of his fangs. Mandibles clenched together. Their searing rows of spoilt teeth clicked on vacant air. The Shadow had made her move, now the battle was done. The pair's three hits and one dodge just another story, splattered against the rock; however, her words still continued to flow like aerial bullets. " “I doubt it[.] [Y]ou will never find [the] likes of me in anything you own.” Kratos lifted his lacerated piston and brought it down 'pon the slab of stone; producing an ear piercing Crack! and searing pain throughout the limb. " I think your buoyant mind refuses to let you see truth in this, m'dear." Sonorous lyrics bashed and mocked her. " Your future has already been cut open and exposed like the raw membranes of your shoulder." His fleshy muscle glossed his curling lips with salivated scarlet. His jubilant smirk now more prominent on his veneer. " We shall see who the real victor is in this fool's festival, The Shadow." Slithery vocals capered on his ever-moving-tongue, tasting of bitter-sweet triumph.
|Muse| Excellent! |Status| Complete |Count| 881 |Music| -- |Dodges| 1|0 |Hits| 3|2|1|0
|Summary| --
|Damage| 75% Health. A bleeding cut to the left eye, an oozing gash to the left shoulder and a sore noggin from the headbutt.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2013 14:45:27 GMT -7
I suppose this is ready to be judged. So give it to us!
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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2013 18:34:51 GMT -7
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2013 14:36:46 GMT -7
Congrations to Cell with Kratos
Tallied Points
[/center] Cell with Kratos Quality of Quantity: 12
-Inside the limits that was agreed on. -Too much purple prose. Makes it very difficult to read and understand. -Very very descriptive! Not always a bad thing, but maybe over done at times and sometimes can make a piece feel forced. Be careful of using he/him/she/her too much and it can start to make writing repetitive, try using some of the rp words instead, like the brute or the wench ect, though it was the second post that I noticed it the most. I like that you have a very broad vocabulary in your posts, though some words I go 0.0' and have to look it up.
No God Modeling or Power Playing: 13
-There are things your character knows that they shouldn't, such as The Shadow thinking she was a soldier and her mental state. Realism of Attack: 14
-Good attacks. Realistic and interesting. Attack Compared to Opponent: 13
-I could feel that Kratos wanted to win in his attacks I felt they were well played and more effective compared to Shadow's. -Nothing that really stood out of those attacks. Was waiting for something more outstanding.
Completion of the Form: 14
-Form missing the first attack, also in form good to know what attack he dodged. Spelling and Grammar: 14
-Very good. Very few mistakes, if any. [/size][/blockquote] Total: 80 Points Kal with the Shadow Quality of Quantity: 14
-Good sized posts that were focused on the battle -Inside the limits that was agreed on -Be careful of using he/him/she/her too much and it can start to make writing repetitive, try using some of the rp words instead, like the brute or the wench. Overall I think you did a very good job getting to the point, saying what happened. Next time maybe add a few more descriptive words to bulk it up a bit. Doing this would make it feel more like you are their feeling it, but not getting over descriptive to the point the reader is overwhelmed by text.
No God Modeling or Power Playing: 14
- No Comments Realism of Attack: 13
-Their height differences made the facial attacks seem unrealistic.
Attack Compared to Opponent: 11
- When it came to attacks I didn't feel like Shadow wanted it enough. I felt the attacks could of been better. -Realism of attacks are questionable due to the height difference and were mostly focused on the face and head. -Nothing that really stood out, waiting for something that might take my breath away.
Completion of the Form: 15
- No Comments Spelling and Grammar: 11
-Some minor spelling mistakes. -Proof-read your posts. There were a lot of grammar errors
Total: 78 Points
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