[fleabittengray]

Name- Rasa
Breed- Danish Warmblood
Age- Immortal
Gender- xx
Height- 17
Alliance- Neutral
Health- 100%

First they took her beta. And then they took her son. Was this how war was done these days? Taking children away from their mothers? A snarl ripped from the angel's throat at the thought, normally soft brown eyes now dark and dangerous. Taking Lat she could understand, but Leviathan? She knew the Underworld were evil but were they fucking stupid? Why take a baby? That was low, even for Hell, but Rasa had to wait before she could bring her baby boy back home. Until that time, she was fighting for Lat to come back. Normally, she knew that Lat would be more than capable of fighting for himself but after being in Hell for two weeks there was no way that beta angel would be strong enough to fight. Who knew that Artemisia and Diavolo had been doing to him all this time? Torture, most likely, as if the pure soul of an angel being in the pits of Hell wasn't bad enough. Rasa shuddered to think what it must feel like, and she had quite a high pain tolerance after years of her own torment.

Stepping out onto the battlefield, Rasa looked every bit as powerful as she felt. Her pelt was gleaming beneath the sun, her feathers wings perfectly folded against her bay hued sides. As she walked, the air around her seemed to still. There were no birds. No bugs. No sounds. Nothing aside from the gentle thuds of her slates hitting against the earth's crust. a rhythmic thud, thud, thud, thud with every step she took. She said nothing, holding her head high as she found a spot out in the open, dead and center of the battlefields. Around her, dried blood stained the dirth, the grass either dead or dying. There were bones scattered throughout, a large skull sitting just to her right, sunbleached and with the lower jaw cracked and detached from the rest of the skull. She glanced down at it, snorting as heat shimmered around her, unnatural for a day so early in the springtime.

"Come to me, Queen of the Damned," she finally called out, her eyes on the skull still, the bone morphing before her eyes to take on the image of Diavolo's large cranium, coated in blood, the scarlet liquid pooling around the mirage. She wanted Arty to see what would be waiting for her and her Lord if she didn't stop fucking with Utopia soon. "Come see what awaits you and your hounds." As she spoke, she looked away from the skull, eyes looking around, waiting for the Underworld leader to appear. She knew to expect the unexpected. Then again, what could the Underworld really do to her now? Rasa doubted they could ever surprise her again. Not after taking her son.

There would be no mercy. Only war.

[Words: 479]
[Tagged: A z z y ]
[Notes: 5 days, 3 hits with 1 allowed to be supernatural, 1 dodge]
[Hits: 0/3]
[Dodges: 0/1]

[A z z y]

Name: Artemisia
Breed: Nonius x Friesian x Andalusian x Percheron x Hanoverian
Age: Immortal
Sex: Mare
Height: 18hh
Alliance: Dark
Health: 100%

The battle cry rang within her skull, reverberating around the marrow confines of her cranium with a ferocity she had been expecting. Artemisia cast a stoic look about her lair, the towering walls adorned with sulfuric soot, the warmth that radiated from the embers that burned eternally in her chambers. There was no flicker of fear in her gut, too long had she been waiting to sink her teeth into the putrid hide of the utopian ruler, the stabs they had taken at her had evidently worked for the vehemence behind the call was rigid, fierce. Artemisia drew her chin to her bosom, her salmon pink tongue slithered out to moisten her cracked labium before retreating back behind clenched incisors. The heathen queen was bored of dormancy, compliance, of the comfortable silence that had fallen over wild equines. War had been waged, whether the Utopian realm was prepared for it or not, and judging by their lack of defense when claiming both their beta and heir, they were far from prepared. The obsidian witch shifted from her shadowed hole, standing on the brink of glory as she over looked the writhing souls, the flames licking them relentlessly, a permanent state of torturous agony. With her nares quivering in anticipation, she began her transcendence to the battle field.

Standing squarely upon the baked crust of the earth, Artemisia snapped her eyes open, her lobes pulled instinctively to her poll as the power from her opponent radiated around her, currently unchallenged. Rasa's stench made the bile rise in the throat of the heathen monarch, her appendages animated as she began her waltz toward the source of the putrid aroma. The jet hued hag advanced at a casual pace, her muscles warm, ready for war, ready to tear the bitch to ribbons. Artemisia had battled before, she had held many victories in the failed war of her now King, if they had won on battle victories alone, she would have been top of the list. Her experience was second to none, her skill unmatched by most, if not all of her opponents. However, this time, this one, had her chomping at the bit. She knew not to underestimate the mahogany bitch, especially not after they had pulled such dastardly tricks against her. Taking a babe from it's mother was always an underhand move, alas, it had the reaction she had longed for. At last, she would be able to taste the blood of her enemy. Artemisia breached the brough of the sand path that lead her traverse to a summit, a barren circle littered with bones of the fallen, blood stained particles of sediment mixed with the rust stained sand. A warm breeze rattled the gilded platelets woven within her tapestry, spiraled horns protruded from her temples, her halcyon pools scouring the land around her before slowly, deliberately, landing upon Rasa herself.

Artemisia's attention was drawn to a black head that lay before her, blood pooling and coagulating from wounds, blank golden orbs stared back at her, recognition dawning as she drew her gaze from the head to the witch before her, a callous leer curling her labium before a haughty laugh escaped her. Come now, Rasa. Let us be original. was the utopian queen as foolish as Artemisia believed her to be? Had she forgotten that the insidious witch had seen this before, in the flesh? She had been the one who had found him, amidst the throes of war, impaled upon the gates of his once great realm, iron bars strewn within him, mangled, deformed, a mere vision of the beast she had known. Artemisia had left, making her way to the only ally they truly had, The Surgeon. She had shed her venomous tears in his presence, his silent entity providing little comfort before he had simply asked her What has hurt you more, Artemisia? The loss of him? Or the loss of your victory? and had left her, pondering his query in the darkness of his freakish abode. Artemisia took a step forward, pounding her knife into the flat plane of the skull, the bone splintering, etching red lines of war across her fetlock, the mirage vanishing as quickly as it had begun. Artemisia rose her jaw defiantly, the wind picking up her obsidian tresses, knotting about her horns, dancing around her neck as the maniacal music from the blood stained platelets resonated from her, the sky darkening over head, her very energy becoming formidable. Moving closer to the bitch, her knives bit and cracked the earth below her, poised, muscles relaxed yet acidic, burning to be free of her skin, to deliver unholy vengeance upon her. Alas, Artemisia had already delivered the first two blows by stealing Lateralus and then Leviathan, it was now Rasa's turn...

There would be no dawn for Utopia.

Words 809
Tagged fleabittengray
Notes
Hits [0/3]
Dodges [0/1]

[fleabittengray]

Name- Rasa
Breed- Danish Warmblood
Age- Immortal
Gender- xx
Height- 17
Alliance- Neutral
Health- 100%

Rasa had fought many times before. She had been alone in her adolescent and young adult life. There had been no one to care for her or fight for her aside from herself. Now here she was, years and years later, fighting for the freedom of someone else, someone who was not in the position to fight for himself. And in another two weeks time, she would be fighting, again, for Leviathan. Guilt still consumed her, knowing she had let two very important equines to her get stolen, but anger as well ran through her veins. Anger at the Underworld as well as anger towards the other Utopians. Her and Venture were working hard to keep them safe, to keep them from harm, and yet they couldn't spend two fucking seconds to block someone when her and Venture were busy? Valefor had been told to keep her son safe, and now he was in the clutches of the Underworld. Had she no self-control, she would have torn the wings off every last angel and sent them into the pits themselves for not helping her and their Lord out in their greatest time of need, but Rasa liked to think she had decent self-control, and so the angels remained.

For now.

It was obvious when the Lady of the Underworld arrived, for she brought with her the stench of death and decay, whereas Rasa brought with her the scents of life. Two very different smells now mingling in one place; she doubted to the mortals it would smell any good at all. It would serve as a warning. Get out. Stay away. Do not come here. This was not a fight that a mortal would be able to handle. Come now, Rasa. Let us be original. The danish warmblood huffed out an unamused laugh, lips pulled into a sneer, no longer the calm woman she had been back when Lat had first been stolen. The Underworld had done too much to see her calm anymore. They wanted war? That was what they were going to get. "Original?" she scoffed, walking away from the skull, allowing her enemy to stomp on it, the image falling away and returning to the now shattered real life image of a sunbleached skull. "Like stealing a baby from their mother? I'll be speaking to the one who was put in charge of his safety, but it's still a low blow, Fiend," she hissed, "Is Hell so weak that they now must go after children? Well done, Beast. You've got my attention, as well as my child, but know this - Leviathan will never be yours. He will never be aligned with the Underworld. He is too smart of a boy to fall for your tricks!"

Her words were louder even than the increasing wind and she stood for a moment, eye to eye with Artemisia, nares flared and eyes dark. She stood still, saying nothing, before flames arose from the ground beneath their hooves, doing no harm to the angel but as the Utopian sent the flames in the direction of the hellbeast, she knew that if the other mare did not move, she would be scorched. Burned by the very thing she called her home. "You'll burn just like the rest of them, Artemisia," Rasa said, her lips not moving, speaking directly to the hell creature's mind as she spread her wings, fanning them out at her sides and flapping them, the gust of wind that was caused allowing the flames to burn hotter and climb higher, leaving nothing in their path but burnt earth.

[Words: 608]
[Tagged: A z z y ]
[Notes: azzy allowed me an extension for this]
[Hits: 1/3
Supernatural hit: Rasa conjured up flames and had them burn across the ground in the direction of Artemisia, hoping to burn her]
[Dodges: 0/1]

[A z z y]

Name: Artemisia
Breed: Nonius x Friesian x Andalusian x Percheron x Hanoverian
Age: Immortal
Sex: Mare
Height: 18hh
Alliance: Dark
Health: 85%

Artemisia was no stranger to the throes of battle, if her life had taken it's original, intended path, then perhaps she would have been in Rasa's place, perhaps her life wouldn't have taken the road it had. Her mother and father were doting, showering her in adoration, the first six months of her life had been the happiest, until the enemies came. Artemisia had witnessed her mother repeatedly raped in front of her father, before being cut down, her father beaten by various and multiple stallions until his body gave out. The remnants of her herd dispersed, those who escaped were few and far between yet it wasn't the herd elders they wanted - it was her. The black babe with the golden eyes. Three years of consistent abuse, starvation, rape...Artemisia became hollow. She felt nothing but a continuous burning rage, she wanted nothing more than to do to them, what they had done to her. At almost four years old, she was cast from their affections, thrown to the mercy of the wilderness, her soulless body nothing more than shadow as it hobbled over vast expanses of terrain to the nearest herd she could find. They fed her up, built her up, taught her the ways of war, showed her the ropes of even the most underhand tactics. Artemisia excelled - she remained undefeated in the battle rings, she was a priceless asset amidst scraps with neighboring herds, she bought the lead his victory countless times, without fail and it was then he adopted her as his own, a protege that would, in time, go above and beyond everything he had ever expected of her. Years of training into her adolescence had sculpted her into the finest temptress, her body was sleek, slender, rippling with muscle that emphasized her curves and contours, her hide was as black as pitch, the only points of color were the two hot pools of molten gild set within her intricately carved countenance, a timeless beauty that could kill many with a look. Various males tried, yet none were worthy, Artemisia found little interest in fornicating with fools, she chose her suitors carefully. Yet it was in her own death, did she truly enter her own.

A callous chuckle escaped the larynx of the heathen monarch as Rasa spat her venom, something finally snapping within the mahogany witch. Weak? Was it not you who succumbed to Psychosocial's advances? Was it not your legions who failed to keep watch over a brood so precious, even you were distracted? Artemisia uncoiled, her body seeming to unwind much like a snake's as she held the gaze of the Utopian in a vice like stare.
If anyone is weak, Rasa, it is you and your ability as a mother and a leader she snarled, watching as the hag moved on, her wings rising as flames emanated from beneath her, sending them on a B line straight for the obsidian empress. Artemisia couldn't help but cackle, her mass shifting on to hind pillars slightly, fore daggers poised as the flames licked and seared her under belly and lower hind legs, the skin blistering and peeling yet there were no agonizing screams from the hell queen, just continuous laughter. In the wake of the flames was charred earth, thick, dense smoke rose from the ground in plumes and wisps, momentarily blocking the enemies with a barrier of translucent, rolling mist. Artemisia took her chances. Landing sweetly upon the earth, her knives bit at the charred topography before her gait extended into a lofty thrice beat, her nape drawn into a pristine arch as she advanced on Rasa, using the smoke screen to buy her a few seconds. As she reached the mahogany bitch, her serpent snaked low, changing leg and veering to the left of Rasa, her mandibles parting as she aimed for the tender flesh of her stifle, her goal to rip and tear the thin flesh from it's sinews, to break the bonds and more or less render the use of the left hind leg impaired, if not useless. Her jaws met ferociously, blood filling her chasm yet be it her opponents or her own from the ferocity of the attack, she couldn't tell.

Artemisia skidded to a dignified halt behind the witch, blood dripping from her proboscis as her gilded pools scanned her opponent for injury. The obsidian witch remained silent, watching the russet whore with a glorious fire in her eyes. Artemisia adjusted her weight, the winds rolled over the topography, picking up molecules of sand that stuck to her singed flesh, irritating the sores, causing them to weep. Raising her jaw defiantly she looked to the witch with a new found vehemence. You forget, Failed Queen of Utopia, that I live amidst the flames, I live among the beasts who defiled children like I was defiled, I reward such insidious behavior that I have become it. You? You deny your weaknesses, you raise yourself on such a holy pedestal that you have forgotten what it feels like to be in the dirt with the rest of us... Artemisia allowed a callous chuckle to escape her larynx, slicing her chords against her hocks mimicking that of an enraged feline. Standing squarely, the venomous queen rose her jaw a fraction, advancing slowly toward her, her movements slow, seductive, deliberate, her jet hued pelt pressing against the sienna hide of the Utopian Queen. Let me remind you, Rasa, what it's like, down here, with the rest of us... peeling away from her, she chuckled to herself before finally administering her attack. Rasa would have to be quick to block such an onslaught, lightning fast, as within a fraction of a second she could begin spluttering, choking, as invisible ropes would constrict round her jugular, cutting the air from her lungs, searing pain would shiver and quake through out her chest, her legs would burn with the ferocity of Hell fire itself and she would be on her knees. Only then, would Artemisia stop, only once she had bought the slut to her knees would Artemisia relent.

Words 1027
Tagged fleabittengray
Notes
Hits [2/3]
1. Using the smoke created from the fire, Artemisia charges toward Rasa, changing leg in canter at the last moment and moving to her left side, dropping her head and neck in an attempt to bite and tear the connecting flesh of her stifle. This may leave her temporarily lame if not dodged.
2. Supernatural Attack - Inducing an incredible amount of pain that would, unless blocked, bring Rasa to her knees. It may leave her weakened, but no permanent damage.

Hits Taken
1. Flames burnt her lower hind legs & abdomen. This will leave Artemisia with blistered and peeling flesh for the remaining battle, leaving her more exposed for lower limb attacks.

Dodges [0/1]

[fleabittengray]

Name- Rasa
Breed- Danish Warmblood
Age- Immortal
Gender- xx
Height- 17
Alliance- Neutral
Health- 80%
- Bite to left stifle, heavy bleeding, causes her to limp

Hell knew her weakness. That was all she could think as she listened to the words brought forth by Artemisia, so truth and so hurtful that for a moment it felt as if she could not breathe. She then reminded herself that, as an angel, she had no need for breathing, gulping as she stared at the obsidian whore that was her opponent. She was not ready for this battle. She was a failure of a leader. She had failed Utopia, again and again, and would keep failing them. Weak? Was it not you who succumbed to Psychosocial's advances? Was it not your legions who failed to keep watch over a brood so precious, even you were distracted? Correct. It was all correct. Rasa couldn't even be mad at what the bitch was saying, because it was all true. She had been weak and needy during her time with Psychosocial and though she did not regret having little Leviathan, she did wish that he had come around in a different way. Perhaps with a fellow angels, or even a mortal. Anyone but a demon. A fallen angel, for Utopia's sake!. If anyone is weak, Rasa, it is you and your ability as a mother and a leader. The words were the nail in the coffin, so to speak, and for a moment, Rasa was motionless. Distracted. She blinked, ears falling back against her skill, her bravado wavering as she remembered all the children she had failed. Foxglove. Archangel. Velvet Massacre. Leviathan.

It was the thundering of hooves mixing with the howling of the wind and a crack of thunder overhead that brought her out of her misery, managing to come to her senses just as Artemisia was upon her. The danish warmblood snorted, feeling at first panicked, images of Antichrist playing through her mind's eye, before she did her best to leap away from the attack to her left stifle. She squealed in pain, not used to feeling pain anymore, and managed to tear herself away from the attack but the damage had already been done. She limped and hobbled, having to fan her wings out keep her balance and stay on her feet. "I know my weaknesses, bitch, do you know yours?" she hissed, her tone having grown colder, her heart returning to the bitter state it had been in for the last few years of her life. It could not be helped. Artemisia had hit all her weak points. Her children. Her failed leadership. Rasa knew she failed at being both a leader and a mother... she just wished it didn't have to be brought up now of all times.

Wind whipped around them, sending sand into wounds on both parties. Rasa shifted her weight, favoring her back left leg and keeping her wings out for balance. This left her open for more attacks but she knew she would not be able to walk without her wings taking some of the weight off her injured leg. There was silence between them, neither moving, until Artemisia was speaking again. You forget, Failed Queen of Utopia, that I live amidst the flames, I live among the beasts who defiled children like I was defiled, I reward such insidious behavior that I have become it. You? You deny your weaknesses, you raise yourself on such a holy pedestal that you have forgotten what it feels like to be in the dirt with the rest of us... Let me remind you, Rasa, what it's like, down here, with the rest of us... With the words as a warning as to what was to come, Rasa moved then, using her wings to her advantage as she lifted herself off the ground. It was not easy, and she was nearly hit with the supernatural attack, feeling the aura of negative energy moving just beneath her as she soared overhead for just a moment, circling before coming to land behind Artemisia, stumbling and favoring her injured leg.

Unable to surge forward, Rasa gimped along, coming around to the mare's left side so that her uninjured side was the side that was closest to Artemisia. "I've already been to Hell, Arty," she nearly growled, using her wings to help her from falling over as she did her best to lunge forward and grab at Artemisia's left elbow and forearm area, teeth seeking to rip and tear into the flesh. It had been a long time since the angel had tasted blood upon her tongue, and an attack in such an area would certainly not be comfortable. She next turned her head, moving her body, leaning more on her right side to take the weight off of her injured left leg, and used her teeth to try and tear at the already burned and peeling skin of Arty's abdomen. She knew if the attack landed, she would be left with the horrible taste of burned flesh on her tongue, a taste that surely would not go away for days or perhaps weeks, but it was the price she had to pay if she wanted to injury Artemisia enough to end this fight. Rasa already knew she needed all the help that she could get.

[Words: 877]
[Tagged: A z z y ]
[Notes: xxx]
[Hits: 3/3
1. Supernatural hit: Rasa conjured up flames and had them burn across the ground in the direction of Artemisia, hoping to burn her
2. Bit at the left elbow and forearm
3. Tore at the already peeling skin of Arty's abdomen on the left side]
[Dodges: 1/1
1. She used her wings to fly above Artemisia's supernatural attack]

[A z z y]

Name: Artemisia
Breed: Nonius x Friesian x Andalusian x Percheron x Hanoverian
Age: Immortal
Sex: Mare
Height: 18hh
Alliance: Dark
Health: 60%

The night mother couldn't help but laugh as the bastard queen squealed in agony, her wings extending to counterbalance the sudden pain that rendered her almost useless. The heathen witch allowed a hollow chuckle to vibrate from deep within her chasms, her nape shaking furiously in mock disbelief, her lobes pulled hence fourth into the abyssal snares of her tapestry. Artemisia held the gaze of her opponent in a a vice like grip, daring her to drop her gaze first, daring her to submit, to give in - like she was so used to doing. My weaknesses died when my family did. Anything else is just an obstacle. she spat, a callous smirk tugging at the corners of her labium. Artemisia delivered the invisible blows with whatever energy she could muster for such an attack, yet the words she had spat had been perhaps to much of a warning as the Rasa became airborne, encircling her once before landing tenderly behind Artemisia. Venom was spewed once more from the Utopian queen, words that rasped with a growl as she limped toward Artemisia. The hag turned her body to face her opponent, shifting her mass slightly onto her hind quarters and pivoting so she was now face to face with the limping ruler. Artemisia smirked, her crown shaking slightly, obsidian tresses knotting and twisting about the horns that protruded from her temples. You know nothing of Hell, Rasa. Only when Leviathan is where he truly belongs, only when Utopia is left in rubble, only when you and all your angels have their wings torn from their backs will you truly understand Hell. she snarled, watching the russet hag as she advanced, her movements hindered by the pain, her wings outstretched in attempts to keep her upright.

Thin layers of epithelium slid partially over molten gilded pools, squinting at her opponent as the wind pulled up more of the dust, sending a fresh layer onto the weeping skin of her underbelly, the blisters bulged and rippled, yet never gave in. The pain itself was meager, a consistent searing burn that ebbed and rose like the tides, depending on her movement. Alas, despite the hindered actions of her enemy, she was upon her sooner than she had anticipated, her enamels sinking into the exposed skin and muscles of her forearm, the meat pulling from her in slivers, almost cooked to perfection by the fires of Utopia. Artemisia roared, her lobes flattening as she was now aware of Rasa's intended second blow, the pain shooting up her forearm and into the knots of her shoulders. Without too much thought, the obsidian witch shifted onto her hind pillars once more, springing herself off of her hocks to twist her forehand away from her, landing gingerly onto her forelimbs and throwing her hindquarters up. Hot pain shredded her forelimbs and shoulders as she struck out with her hind daggers, aiming for the pretty face of the utopian ruler, the upper head, the base of the neck, the legs, ribs... anywhere would be a fucking blessing. Alas, all the willpower and bad intentions in the world could not support the weight of the attack and deliver her with a targeted blow for as her hind limbs extended, the front buckled and the heathen monarch stumbled before she could define a destination for the blow.

Artemisia staggered, her left limb held from the geode whilst the other three worked to support her, her mass turning to face the bloodied entity of her opponent - alas this time, it was she who had a consistent rivulet of blood that marred the crimson sands beneath her. The obsidian witch had never left a battle unscathed, she simply assured that the other beast was worse off. Yet when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object the damage, although varied, would be equal. Her nares quivered, the laws they had set themselves for this fray were being tested, the desire to inflict more damage upon the bitch was overwhelming, the sudden blood lust, the need to send a message to Venture, to Leviathan, to Lateralus - to the whole god damn lot of them, was being tested. Artemisia rose her jaw defiantly, looking down upon the lesser entity with unmatched malice, contempt on a whole new level. Rasa would fall, perhaps not today, but soon and at her jaws. Until next time. she snarled, thunder rolling over head as lightning illuminated the sky, the threat of an imminent storm as the atmosphere electrified. She could not stand to be in the same space a moment longer, if she were forced to, she would tear her apart - now was not the time for unplanned attacks, that would come later. In a final roll of deafening thunder, the obsidian witch was gone, returning to the fiery pits once more.

Words 8077
Tagged fleabittengray
Notes Artemisia out -mic drop-
Hits [3/3]
1. Using the smoke created from the fire, Artemisia charges toward Rasa, changing leg in canter at the last moment and moving to her left side, dropping her head and neck in an attempt to bite and tear the connecting flesh of her stifle. This may leave her temporarily lame if not dodged.
2. Supernatural Attack - Inducing an incredible amount of pain that would, unless blocked, bring Rasa to her knees. It may leave her weakened, but no permanent damage.
3. Twisted away from Rasa in a half rear, using the tension to shift onto her forehand and kick out at Rasa, aiming for her head/neck/rib area - this attack is sloppy due to the injury sustained to her left forearm and it's inability to sustain her weight

Hits Taken
1. Flames burnt her lower hind legs & abdomen. This will leave Artemisia with blistered and peeling flesh for the remaining battle, leaving her more exposed for lower limb attacks.
2. Rasa successfully bit and tore the flesh of her left forearm, leaving her partially lame and in turn, causing her attack to become less effective.

Dodges [1/1]
1. Twisted away from Rasa after she bit at her elbow in a half rear, using this as the basis for her final attack.

[fleabittengray]

Name- Rasa
Breed- Danish Warmblood
Age- Immortal
Gender- xx
Height- 17
Alliance- Neutral
Health- 75%
- Bite to left stifle, heavy bleeding, causes her to limp
- Bruised left chest/shoulder with a small cut on her left shoulder, minimal bleeding

The words hurt more than any attack Artemisia could hurl at her. The fact that the hellhound had made her bleed was nothing compared to how she called her out on all her failures. Rasa had been expecting it, true, but that did not make it hurt any less. Maybe it even made it hurt even more, expecting the words that were spat at her like she was the most rotten thing to walk the earth. Rasa knew that she wasn't, in fact she was considered the purest thing, alongside her Lord, Venture, but that didn't take away the sting of the words. My weaknesses died when my family did. Anything else is just an obstacle. Her jaw clenched as the two mares glared at each other, lips pulling up into a snarl. "I'll raise their bodies from the dead, then, and have you watch them die twice over!" she snapped, spitting her own venom at her enemy. Oh, how she wanted to make her pay for everything - taking her angel, taking her son - but her attacks and dodges had all been used... at least for this battle. There was still to be another, when it came time for her to fight for her son, unless she could come up with a plan on getting him returned to her.

Artemisia had turned to face her, speaking once more. You know nothing of Hell, Rasa. Only when Leviathan is where he truly belongs, only when Utopia is left in rubble, only when you and all your angels have their wings torn from their backs will you truly understand Hell. The mention of her son had Rasa pinning her ears in warning, teeth bared like a dog. She did not like her son's name upon the witch's tongue but there was nothing she could do of that situation just yet, but Hell would not be prepared when the time came. "And you have yet to experience the true wrath of Heaven, Artemisia, you nor your dogs know of it. But you will." It was a promise and one that Rasa looked forward to keeping. She couldn't wait to lock up the Underworld and throw away the damned key.

It seemed the witch had not been prepared for Rasa's final attack. The angel's teeth sank into burned flesh, tearing into the meat and ripping it from the burn. Blood poured into her maw and her ears pinned at the taste but Rasa did not let go, not until Artemisia was half-rearing up onto powerful hind limbs and tearing herself away. Rasa took the brief moment to spit the blood and flesh from her mouth, grimacing, before letting out a grunt as she saw hind daggers coming at her. She lifted her skull, trying to avoid being hit in the face, but at that moment Artemisia's forelegs buckled, sending her attack away from Rasa's head and connecting instead with her left shoulder and chest. The angel squealed in pain, grunting and backing away, limping heavily, both left legs now sore. The dust was beginning to settle, however, and though she could feel a tear in her left shoulder beginning to spill a small amount of blood, she knew that the moment she returned to Utopia, she would begin to heal. It would be a painful process, but it would be done.

She could see the bloodlust in Artemisia's eyes, one she was sure was shown in her brown eyes as well, but instead of ignoring the laws of battle, the demon gave her farewells and departed. Rasa waited a moment longer, waiting to see if the beast would return, before willing herself away back to the graces of Heaven, hoping that the damage that had been done would not take too long to heal.

[Words: 642]
[Tagged: A z z y ]
[Notes: this is just a wrap up post, this battle is ready for judgement]
[Hits: 3/3
1. Supernatural hit: Rasa conjured up flames and had them burn across the ground in the direction of Artemisia, hoping to burn her
2. Bit at the left elbow and forearm
3. Tore at the already peeling skin of Arty's abdomen on the left side]
[Dodges: 0/1]

[Deleted]

I will tally.
Waiting on judge collection: Yes
Judge 1 Collection: Received
Judge 2 Collection: Received
Judge 3 Collection: Received
Tally-ing Scores: Yes

[Deleted]

Roleplayer & Character: Gray with Rasa
Quality over Quantity: 13
Comments: - I felt Gray did a really good job of portraying the emotions and painting a picture with her words, despite not matching the post length of Azzy's. Which is completely fine, I really enjoy the simplicity and raw emotion of her posts.
- At times the posts seemed rushed, but it wasn't too distracting. However, there were also a couple sentences that I had to read several times to understand.
- Several grammar mistakes made it a bit harder to follow, but after the first post it became a very interesting read. The multiple mistakes took away some of the quality.

No God Modeling or Power Playing: 15
Comments: - The use of her Supernatural attack left room for Artemisia to dodge if she so chose.

Realism of Attack: 15
Comments: - Aside from the one allowed supernatural attack, Gray made her attacks very realistic.
- (Excluding afterlife attack) They seem realistic.
- Realistic. (Besides the afterlife one)

Attack Compared to Opponent: 13
Comments: - Gray seemed to match the effort of Azzy's attacks from my perception of it.
- The attacks were realistic, but Artemisia's seemed to flow more smoothly.
- Attacks were good, I feel like they were just a response to whatever Artemisia was throwing, Rasa was just responding.

Completion of the Form: 15
Comments: - It was filled out
- Always completed
- Completed

Spelling and Grammar: 7
Comments: - I spotted a few run-on sentences.
- There were several small errors and distracting, awkward sentences.
- "dried blood stained the dirth," - misspell dirt
- "her feathers wings" - should be feathered
- "knew the underworld were" - numerical error, meaning this would have to be "knew the underworld was" to match that underworld is being used singular here
- "She stood still, saying..." - awkward sentence
- "Rasa said, her lips not..." - awkwardly long and confusing
- -Started sentences with 'And'
- "her feathers wings perfectly folded against her bay hued sides" Should be feathered wings
- "a rhythmic thud," A should be capitalized
- "Her words were louder even than the increasing wind and she stood for a moment, eye to eye with Artemisia, nares flared and eyes dark. She stood still," I just feel it's contradicting how in both sentences she says 'She stood'.
- Several sentences run on and are very confusing, such as this; "Rasa said, her lips not moving, speaking directly to the hell creature's mind as she spread her wings, fanning them out at her sides and flapping them, the gust of wind that was caused allowing the flames to burn hotter and climb higher, leaving nothing in their path but burnt earth."
- "That was all she could think as she listened to the words brought forth by Artemisia, so truth and so hurtful that for a moment it felt as if she could not breathe." Should be true not truth
- "She then reminded herself that, as an angel, she had no need for breathing, gulping as she stared at the obsidian whore that was her opponent.",, "The words were the nail in the coffin, so to speak, and for a moment, Rasa was motionless. " Overuse of apostrophes.

TOTAL: 78.05

Roleplayer & Character: Azzy and Artemisia
Quality over Quantity: 12.5
Comments: - I felt there was more filler in Azzy's posts compared to Gray's. Which was fine, and I enjoyed reading but it didn't add much to the actual battle.
- There are a few places where it gets a little more wordy than needed, but nothing major.
- A few sentences trailed on when they should have been broken up, but otherwise good.

No God Modeling or Power Playing: 14.5
Comments: - There's no real godmodding, but in this sentence here it is unclear as to whether the blood on Artemisia's nose is Azzy saying the hit landed before Gray's response, or of some other origin- "Artemisia skidded to a dignified halt behind the witch, blood dripping from her proboscis as her gilded pools scanned her opponent for injury."
- Azzy also respected the no-god modding.
- None.

Realism of Attack: 15
Comments: - Artemeisia's attacks were very well thought out, and I didn't have much trouble discerning what she was attempting to do.
- They seemed realistic.
- Realistic(Besides the afterlife one)

Attack Compared to Opponent: 15
Comments: - I felt that Artemisia's attacks were easier to understand personally. She indicated which side of Rasa she was attacking in the post, not just the [hits attempted] portion.
- The attacks seemed a little more smooth and creative. I particularly liked where she turned her rearing dodge into an attack. The fact that this attack was sloppier due to injuries was also good.
- Good.

Completion of the Form: 15
Comments: - It was Completed
- Always completed.
- Completed.

Spelling and Grammar: 12
Comments: - I wasn't able to spot any mistakes.
- There were several small errors.
- "Taking a babe from it's mother" - its vs it's
- "if her life had taken it's original" - its vs it's
- "thin flesh from it's sinews," - its vs it's
- "had been perhaps to much of" - too should be used instead of to
- There were several sentences that just kept running on.
- "The obsidian witch shifted from her shadowed hole, standing on the brink of glory as she over looked the writhing souls, the flames licking them relentlessly, a permanent state of torturous agony."
- "Standing squarely upon the baked crust of the earth, Artemisia snapped her eyes open, her lobes pulled instinctively to her poll as the power from her opponent radiated around her, currently unchallenged. "
- "Artemisia rose her jaw defiantly, the wind picking up her obsidian tresses, knotting about her horns, dancing around her neck as the maniacal music from the blood stained platelets resonated from her, the sky darkening over head, her very energy becoming formidable."
- "Taking a babe from it's mother was always an underhand move, alas, it had the reaction she had longed for. At last, she would be able to taste the blood of her enemy." Alas and At last contradict each other.

TOTAL: 84.00

Congratulations A z z y with Artemisia