Fight Type: Battle Prize: 50 signos per character from Official Day Court Account upon completion of the thread Contact Made: Yes
Character #1: @Andras Bonded: None Magic: Arc flash, an electric explosion Armor: None Weapons: None Current Health: 10 Current Attack: 10 Current Experience: 13
Character #2: @Zayir Bonded: None Magic: None Armor: None Weapons: None Current Health: 10 Current Attack: 13 Current Experience: 10
Andras
The warden's had an itch for days, something below the skin, something hot and prickling and insistent. It only grows when he reads the posted bracket, when he sees his name drawn in thick black ink on the yellowed slip. In the shade of the Colosseum that itch becomes a mounting giddiness, which becomes a breathless sort of joy that he has to wrestle down before it swallows him whole.
Andras lifts his head to see the flat sand of the arena baked by the column of desert sun that peeks into the canyon. The festival crowd is impatient and wanting, a din even in the background, through the heavy road door. You're up, says the guard to its right, who waits for Andras to look then abandons her expression of cool disinterest for something closer to.... worry? Quiet laughter? It does not matter to him.
No, all that matters to him is the slice of white light that grows as she cranks the door open one foot of a time and it all spills in on him at once: the hot sun, the white sand, the roar of a crowd that's gone too long without their joyous blood sport.
And it is joyous. And it will hurt. And it makes Andras spark like a firecracker as he steps into the wall of light and sound. 'Our next match,' says the announcer,'is the Warden of Delumine, Andras Demya, versus Zayir, of Solterra.' An old name. An ancient name. Perhaps one of the oldest. The crowd roars for Zayir, roars like their sovereign's lion or their fiery desert sun.
It makes Andras smile. A soldier from Solterra. The soldier from Solterra, just as white and gold as the desert he walks on. Andras chokes back a grin but can't hold it for long--and when it breaks over his face it does so in a crack of thunder. This should be fun.
The warden bows his head, unfolds his wings, and and takes a deep breath.
In-- he holds it-- and out.
Summary: Andras admires the occasion while he waits for his turn. When he's called, he enters the arena, gives Zayir a deep bow, and positions himself for the fight.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom—
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
They used to call him the Reaper.
It is a name Zayir, even now, is not particularly fond of. But when he steps out onto the golden sands to the sound of the crowd, he feels the most—and least—like himself since emerging from the catacombs. He remembers the first Lady Marcisa Arisetta told him, you have a gift and the way he had felt his magic in his veins since he was a young boy.
They had mistaken it for combat magic, for a certain knack at fighting. It hadn’t been. No, Zayir knows Solis would never have been so kind to him. It had been magic for making men bleed, for creating—and winning—wars. The magic of death to the nth degree; the magic of slaughter, disunion, carrion and crows.
He feels naked, now, without it. He assesses the Warden of Delumine and thinks of how ironic it is the most peace-fairing of the courts has a warden willing to do battle in Solterra. Perhaps we’ve all strayed from our gods, Zayir thinks.
Zayir thinks they could not be more opposite. Andras is dark enough to swallow the sun, except for a single, storm-like streak of white. The man seems to crackle with barely contained energy. The effect raises the small hairs at the nape of Zayir’s neck; it is electric and powerful. Zayir bows in return, a show of respect. The courtesy at least remains old-fashioned, even if everything else has changed.
Zayir does not wait further to begin the battle. He starts at a trot through the sands directly toward Andras. The trot becomes a canter, and the canter a gallop. His wings extend and, as he nears, he uses them to propel a final burst of speed. Zayir feints to the right and then immediately ducks his head, aiming to seize the smaller stallion at the joint where the wing meets the shoulder and, with his momentum, twist Andras down toward the sand.
"Speaks" ||
swift, blazing flag of the regiment, eagle with a crest of red and gold, these men were born to drill and die.
Summary: Zayir walks into the arena, takes a trip down memory lane. Then he bows his head respectfully and launches directly into his first attack. He runs across the arena, gathering speed, where at the last few strides he uses his wings to propel himself with more speed. He feints to the right and then lunges to the left, aiming to grab Andras in his teeth at the joint of his wing.
The circled crowd holds its breath, as does the arena, as does the whole of Solterra. The soldier watches Andras with a discerning eye, as he bows his dark head and squares his shoulders. Andras is not a soldier. Andras is an animal, a savage one, that likes blood and bruises and bleeding teeth and does not care if it is his.
He is wondering, the warden knows, how Delumine, how Oriens, came to this decision - even if Zayir were not so out of time it might beg the question. Why does their god breathe thunder and fire in the core of him? Why does their god preach peace and give birth to this bottomless rage?
Andras smiles because Andras knows. Oriens did not give this beast to him. Oriens only let it out.
He takes another breath in, then out. Andras tries to stay calm, wrestling all his joy and his rage so that it simmers below the surface. He thinks cold thoughts, he thinks blue thoughts. He thinks of the clean sand of the arena and the man that bows in return before lunging forward, spurring the crowd to cheer for the battle's beginning.
Andras is not far behind the motion, a stride or two at most; he surges ahead with his wings spread for balance, trying to breathe though he is filling with tension and bliss all in one. He manages one more--a quick, running breath--before Zayir is upon him, and Andras follows the way he darts like a dog chasing prey.
Only, Zayir is faster, and his feet touch and then pivot, diving left like a snake in the sand; only because the feint baits him does Andras feel the elbow of his wing between Zayir's teeth instead of the wrist--because they are so close they make contact immediately, and the warden feels it like a bolt of hot light that streaks from the elbow to the shoulder and down through his chest. He makes a sound half between shrieking and laughter as he rolls, folding his wing only by an instinct that screams not to land on it.
The scenery goes white wings, blue sky, gray crowd, yellow sand at a dizzying speed, and Andras is trying to fight through the sharp ache of his appendage to focus as he searches for Zayir's face and neck with both front legs; a spark that flashes like white lightning and cracks like thunder roars out of one just as he braces for it. Andras feels it all the way in his ribs, like the booming of fireworks. He is glad for sand, and not hard ground, though it is a weak blast.
It is bright (so bright), and it is loud (so, so loud), but it is more percussive force and sparks than anything else, like a particularly thick balloon popping against the skin. Andras gives himself over to its momentum, too, rolling away now that the blast has--Oriens willing--distracted Zayir long enough that the Warden can scramble back to his feet.
He is not breathing deep, anymore. He is a cloud of frantic lightning, laughing along with his heart, which starts keening like an unbridled thing. Perhaps it is.
Summary: Andras puts literally as much effort into staying focused as he can. He charges forward to meet Zayir, falls for his feint, and is attacked. Because Zayir is so close he gets hold of the elbow of Andras' wing and rolls him down. It hurts and absolutely pulls a muscle if not spraining the wing. Because he was able to focus, once he's on his back Andras aims a weak explosion at Zayir's face in an attempt to shock him with the light and sound as well as hit him, though the force isn't more than a medium-strength punch worst case scenario. Having Zayir distracted, Andras rolls to his feet to prepare for the next attack. He completely forgets how to focus.
it's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything
For ten years, he rotted.
For ten years, his body lay dormant beneath Solterra’s endless sands.
For ten years, a lifetime’s worth of training could not save him from the alcoves of his own personal hell. An eternity.
Zayir knows his fair share of rage.
And when Zayir had found his way from the catacombs, still young, with an entire different life ahead of him?
The thing he has wanted more than anything else?
It is not ambrosia; not water. It is not the sweet Solterran figs or the shade of the oasis palms. It is not even Cairo and those flitting, irresistible eyes. No. What Zayir wants is so much less complicated; it is base; primal.
Zayir wants to make something bleed.
That is why there is no further courtesy; only their sudden, brutal engagement. The sound Andras makes (the shattering shriek; a laughter that strikes Zayir like a lash) is one the Arete feels; pain and joy.
The two have always been inseparable, for the soldier. He has learned Solis will not give him one without the other and he cannot help the way, in the back of his throat, he too is laughing. There is sand shifting beneath him and they are both being wrenched to the ground. There is the thought that if he were anything but what he was, the texture of feathers and flesh beneath his teeth would mean something else entirely. Before he can think more or delve deeper into the violence, Andras releases a strange, concussive blast. Zayir’s head swims with the pain of the noise and the brightness and, involuntarily, he releases his grasp on the other man’s wing, pulling back. His ears are ringing, ringing, ringing.
The pain is the first real thing he has felt, it seems, since emerging from the catacombs. Perhaps Zayir will have to thank the black stallion for that, later; but not now; not when he still wants flesh between his teeth and something cracking under the pressure of his hooves. Zayir has flinched away, taking the concussion and brightness to the face and a glancing blow from Andras’s hoof. It splits the skin of his nose and sends red blood cascading down half his face.
But he has not even regained his vision when he is charging forward a second time. Zayir is rearing before he can even think better, aiming blindly to come down atop Andras with the full might of his weight and thrashing hooves. But then he can see again; then he can aim. And Zayir's rear becomes intentional; that downward crash becomes a foreleg aiming to hook Andras at the crook between his shoulders and neck, and bring down teeth to the back of the black stallion's neck.
To make something bleed.
Zayir's ears continue to ring; but perhaps it is only the crowd; perhaps it is only his own blood, rushing.
Summary: Zayir contemplates his own feelings about the fight and how badly he needs it. In response to Andras's concussive blast and flailing hooves, Zayir is struck on the nose hard enough to split skin. Additionally, Zayir reels back, momentarily disoriented and unable to see. His ears are ringing. Before his vision clears, Zayir charges forward again and then rears, aiming to come down atop Andras. His vision clears, and he aims to hook Andras at the junction of the neck and shoulder and bite, forcefully, the back of his neck.
Later Andras will look down and see blood on the white of his ankle--not much, just a spattering like it hadn't happened at all. Later he will recall the loud boom of his magic erupting, the sound like thunder that races down his leg and out toward the stands. He'll remember the air shifting, like he himself warped time and space to make it so.
But this will be later, much later, because after get to your feet there is no thought left in him that is not that singing rage, the war drum of his heart that pounds in the back of his head, and his throbbing wing, and the roar of the crowd overhead.
He must look like an unholy thing, in rising arcs of lightning that seem to suck the light out of the desert as they fork off his body and buzz like an amp. He is all teeth and lightning as Zayir rolls to his feet just after Andras. There is no room to breathe between them, no room for Andras to see the blood on Zayir's nose or the way that their angers meet each other in a crack just as loud within him as any trick he could pull without. Before Andras can move Zayir lurches back with his head still full of static and Andras ducks in to meet it.
The warden has no fear to spare for a desert soldier. He has only pain, and joy, and that boundless rage, and it has only ever told him to fight, relentlessly, and at any cost.
So he does. Because, though it is small, the possibility that Zayir might not chase him down with teeth and hoof and that spattering blood is somehow so much worse than anything else. And he is blind with it.
The hooves come down first, one that scrapes down his shoulder and stings as it does and the other that flings itself over his neck, then the teeth that close over the nape of his neck. Something between a shriek and a snarl wracks its way out of him along with the blood that seeps out around Zayir's teeth and the deep purple bruise that will follow. Suddenly he is all pain--in his wing, in his shoulder (though already dulling), in his neck, in his throat because he is still screaming, or roaring.
Andras also does not wait. Even as Zayir's teeth are on his neck Andras opens his neck and ducks his head (and there is more pain, so much more pain, as skin drags away from teeth, but all it does is make the song louder, and louder, and louder), and even as Zayir is still draped over Andras his hind legs bunch and spring in the soldier's direction, hurling the full force of his weight, the bony legs, the feral teeth, aided by a flap of his wings that kicks sand up behind him.
And Andras is still screaming when he twists midair, and is still screaming when he lands, blind with anger, and pain, and the magic that rolls off him in blue, buzzing waves.
For a moment the stands are quiet. They wondered, for a moment, why Delumine's warden would fight like a dog.
Summary: Andras very quickly loses control of himself, and the lightning around him grows along with his anger, but while it's an exciting show it's largely intangible. He stands up from his last attacks as Zayir does, and as Zayir rears Andras makes the questionable decision to lean into the attack rather than block or avoid it. The results are predictable: Zayir hooks one leg over his neck as intended (and because of this the other skims the shoulder closest to Zayir but doesn't hurt after the initial smack) and bites Andras on the back of the neck. Also predictably, this makes Andras scream, or snarl, or laugh, or roar, or maybe all of the above; he is still screaming when he rips his neck out of Zayir's grasp and jumps up in Zayir's direction, using extra propulsion from flapping his wings, in an attempt to tackle/body slam him into the ground. The crowd is suitably uncomfortable with his lack of composure.
it's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything
He might blame the desert sand, or the sun, or the way Andras’s lightening reminds Zayir all too much of the heat storms that thunder in the desert, sometimes, all fury and no rain.
He might blame all of these things, for how they are reduced to a step above inhumanity; a step above feral. The thing roiling within Zayir is dark, limitless, bloodthirsty. It feels empty and this, this fills it up. Sates a hunger Zayir did not know he had felt for so, so long.
But he is a soldier. He has always been a soldier, and what is a soldier without war?
Nothing.
So he makes war on this other man’s body.
The taste of blood is in his mouth. It is the only thing that seems real through the distorted, heavy fight. The heat is making his head hurt. Or was that Andras’s blow? Everything seems blurred; too fast and too slow all at once, as if they are on different settings, different speeds.
The man—horse—animal—beast—beneath him is screaming, laughing, snarling, roaring. He wrenches his neck from his grasp, bucking upward. He does so with more force than Zayir is expecting; but as soon as Andras’s ripped himself from his grasp, Zayir was already moving to place distance between them. Andras does not succeed in bowling Zayir over; instead the white stallion takes the blow to the chest and grounds himself in the sands. He is edged back by the force of the impact, but the two of them are left chest-to-chest, heaving breaths, when the referee calls the end.
There is a silence, then, in the sands.
A watching, waiting, silence. Zayir circles away, like a wildcat. They compliment one another as only opposites can.
His mind is still full of heat storms; of lightening in towered clouds, striking without mercy and brightly, so brightly.
"I must admit," Zayir says, his lips curled up like a lion's do. "You've changed my impression of Delumine, Warden."
Summary: Zayir gets lost contemplating things AGAIN. He feels disoriented in the heat and intensity of the fight, focusing on the taste of blood in his mouth before Andras's rips away and Zayir is left momentarily reeling. But, as soon as Andras rips out of his grip, Zayir steps back and grounds himself for preparation of Andras's next onslaught. He is driven back into the sand, but Andras does not successfully tackle Zayir/take him to the ground. When the referee calls the end of the fight, Zayir steps away and half-circles. Then, he gives Andras a compliment.
Response Deadline: August 9th. cannon and I both discussed exceeding deadlines and are fine with it! Tags: @Andras, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @aimless, @layla
08-06-2020, 04:10 PM
Played by
Cannon [PM] Posts: 134 — Threads: 26 Signos: 80
They stand chest to chest, for a moment, all heat and lightning and bottomless prayers to violence. Andras is surprised when he feels cold as Zayir darts away. He is full of radio static that crawls in on all of his edges-- how does anyone see, how does anyone breathe, if they are not like this, beaten and bloody in the hot sun and the sand?
His head is slowly clearing. Where there was that singing, boiling rage he is filling now with exhaustion. Andras ducks his head and spreads his wings in a sort of curtsy, before tucking them over his back with a notable wince.
"Good." he says, grinning the way dogs do, lips curled into something too manic to be a snarl and too savage to be just a grin. He says this next bit with more affection than he means to: "Don't fuck with us, then."
He feels right at this moment. Alive. Whole. It would be worrying if he knew himself less. "You should come by, though. This was fun." He laughs, high and wild. It is the sort of boundless joy most people only hope for.
Creativity: originality, imagination, and attention to detail.
Realism: mechanics and whether you accurately reflect your health and attack
Overall writing: creativity, realism, and writing mechanics (spelling, grammar, punctuation, run-on sentences, etc.)
FIRST POST (intro)
Just have to say that I love Andras, and I love the imagery you painted in this post. It got maybe choppy with a couple of word choices “one foot of a time”, “through the heavy road [red?] door” - but overall reads nicely and gives a feel for his character.
SECOND POST
Defensive: Ahh this was such a breath of fresh air. I love, love, love how much time you’ve spent on the defensive aspect of this post (even without using a block) — this tends to be one of the most neglected parts of battle posts, usually just skipped over in a line or two, and you really went for it. This might be my favorite part of the post. That being said I find it a pretty realistic response, and the fact that Andras’ instincts keep him from landing on the wing are a nice touch (although a part of me would have expected Zayir to be pulling the wing away from him/still holding on, so this part was a little difficult to play out in my head. But then again I’ve never seen two pegasi fighting so I also don’t have a precedence.)
Offensive: I like that this attack was meant to be more distracting than harmful — it makes sense, given Andras needs a little bit of time to recover. Also not usually something I see in battles (it’s always kill, kill, kill), so a nice touch and bonus points for creativity.
Mechanics: Nice use of repetition and imagery. Also enjoyed the speed of this post and the way you carried it through to the end — otherwise a clean read and nothing that really stuck out to me.
Notes: Really like that you keep including the crowd in your posts — I find it brings so much more life and depth to battle posts.
THIRD POST
Defensive: Going to group this into offensive, see below.
Offensive: I always appreciate when the character’s defensive and offensive parts of a post are combined — in such close contact it can be really hard to separate the two. I feel like Andras is just rolling with the punches here and acting/reacting very well to the battle, there’s nothing that’s really holding me back from saying “yep, that felt natural.” Also I love how the brutality of Andras ripping his neck away from Zayir’s teeth is carried into the force of his attack — really good word choice to keep that tone. Also, a horse literally body slamming another horse?? I can honestly say I have never read that in a battle post before and I love that, because at the same time while reading the post it didn’t seem unusual or out of place at all.
Mechanics: Again I really like the imagery in this post, like I’m watching what is happening through Andras’ eyes. You used a few words a little repetitively (like neck, in the defensive part of his post) that detracted a little bit from the storytelling, but otherwise another really smooth post.
Notes: Just a random thought I had while reading this post — I love Andras and how tense/angry he always is. And while reading him trying (and usually failing) to contain his emotions/remain calm is always fun, it’s been really nice to see him just let loose for once. I feel like this battle is just what he needed and perfect for his entire character. Also “the warden has no fear to spare for a desert soldier” really got me.
FOURTH POST (closer)
Short and sweet and to the point — I love that Andras just had to get the last word in there. Also I felt this was a really fitting end to their fight.
Creativity: originality, imagination, and attention to detail.
Realism: mechanics and whether you accurately reflect your health and attack
Overall writing: creativity, realism, and writing mechanics (spelling, grammar, punctuation, run-on sentences, etc.)
FIRST POST
Defensive: N/A.
Offensive: A practical move. I like that you threw the feint in there — it makes sense given his military background, and also gives an otherwise plain attack a little bit of a facelift. Being that Zayir is also a pegasus I can’t decide if going for the wing-joint is a cheap shot or practical, but either way I like it.
Mechanics: Nothing that sticks out to me. A very clean read.
Notes: Not much, I enjoyed reading his trip down memory lane, I might have liked to see more on his usual battle tactics/the difference between fighting on a battlefield versus an arena to help drive the mood home, but that’s only in retrospect and being more nitpicky than anything.
SECOND POST
Defensive: I would have like a little more body here (I’m not sure for one where Andras’ hoof came in — I’m assuming while he was rolling, but a little more description here would have helped it along.) That being said I still appreciate the fast-paced, primal feel of this and how Zayir is relying on his instincts.
Offensive: Based on how practical his first attack was, the switch to instinctual/blind rushing feels rather abrupt? I was half expecting him to take to the skies and give himself time to recollect, or otherwise wipe the blood from his eyes. That being said I like the inclusion of his rear becoming intentional after he’s already raising in the air — it shows him thinking on his feet/going with the flow and making snap decisions, which I liked. Also using his height to his advantage is a nice touch.
Mechanics: Really, really nice use of repetition in the beginning. The start/stop writing and abrupt sentences actually really help it along, there’s a really good balance here between statements and descriptions.
Notes: “The pain is the first real thing he has felt, it seems, since emerging from the catacombs.” Probably the highlight of the entire post for me. I like how poignant this is, and how it gives a feel both for him as a fighter and for his history.
THIRD POST
Defensive: I love how you incorporated Zayir’s dodge here, he never really stopped or “stalled” but like a soldier, kept moving and didn’t give Andras a chance to throw him off (although I’m also really disappointed to not see a bodyslam play out, darn.) Also I really, really like that you didn’t just leave it as them standing in the stands and giving up, but that you included a referee to end the fight — I’m not sure how this would have ended otherwise with them going at each other the way they were, so this is a nice touch.
Offensive: N/A.
Mechanics: Lightening vs lightning. I’m not usually a huge fan of heavy start/stop sentences one after the other, but this actually ties in really nicely to Andras’ flash-bang attack and Zayir’s reaction to it.
Notes: Again really appreciate the feel we get for Zayir’s bloodlust in your writing. “So he makes war on this other man’s body.” might be one of my favorite quotes.
Closing Remarks: I didn’t have to actually read either of your summary’s to understand what was going on in the fight, and I really appreciate you both for that. I really enjoyed reading this fight, which I can’t always say about battles.
proof of dice roll can be found in Novus’ discord, #contests channel at 10:31 AM PST on 08/07/2020.
@Andras wins.
All damage taken in the thread is still applicable and cannot be retconned!
Participate in a Battle or Challenge: +1 EXP to Andras +1EXP to Zayir
Win a Battle: +1 additional EXP to Andras
Total: +2 EXP to Andras, +1 EXP to Zayir
Both character’s official experience has been updated to reflect these changes, so there's no need to post in the Experience Updates thread!
