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Let slip the dogs of war;
Topic Started: Jan 1 2012, 11:10 PM (272 Views)
Taboo
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With huge strides, the black stallion entered the place marked as the battle grounds. His ears were pricked, his neck arched nobly and his stride was keen and forward, making his excitement evident to all who saw him. Really, he had never looked more attractive; most of what made him handsome related to his grace and movement, as opposed to any physical feature.

His gait soon settled into a swinging walk, and he took the time to examine how he was feeling. “Alas, my fear escapes me,” he said drily to himself, realising that none of the emotions tumbling around his psyche involved nervousness or apprehension. Nonetheless, adrenalin pumped through his veins, and his excitement was making his muscles pop with anticipation.

Before long, he found a wide, level plain of dirt – probably grass, once – and decided it was an ideal place to crush the chestnut into the ground. Without wasting time, he let out a commanding whinny, demanding his opponent come towards him. He craned his neck to see all around, and was grateful the place was rather empty, and seemed to have been for some time. Then again, that’s what he’d thought when he’d first found the lovely Conception Island, and wasn’t he quite wrong? Now he was preparing his body to force its way into the land. Flaring his nostrils, the noble stallion again found himself standing square and waiting for his opponent to make an appearance.

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PhantomStallion
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The chestnut hued stallion walked confidently into the Battle Grounds. The idiotic, unable-to-smell, black male who had waltzed into Conception Island and pranced around like some pampered freak would never set foot in his land again. The fiery chestnut would beat him so hard that even his great great grandfoals would fear the name of Flame. He walked for a long time before a challenging whinny reached his ears and a familiar scent reached his nose. Looking to his left, he saw the black stallion that had challenged him standing in a sandy clearing, probably once a grassy meadow. Going forewords at a leisurely pace to conserve energy, Flame emerged behind the other stallion. Snorting to make the black aware of his presence, Flame spoke. I assume you know that this cannot be a battle without conditions, so I shall say mine first. If I win, you are to be banished from Conception Island, and you may never return, to challenge me or otherwise. Also, none may fight for the land for you. I will take possession of your heir and your heir’s mother, and they will be mine to do with them as I please. Flame decided to leave out the part about his brother fighting after him for now. The other would have to find that one out for himself. He would allow Jargon to make the first move.
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Taboo
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The coward crept up behind the Irish Draught, only a snort to announce his arrival. Jargon quickly pinned his ears and swung around, baring his teeth at the chestnut. The opponent seemed unfazed by this display and proceeded to tell Jargon of his terms. The big black stallion blinked, honestly shocked; Jargon had challenged the horse in order to take from him his land; now it seemed the red equine was trying to give himself an advantage by adding unrelated conditions to the fight.

Jargon let loose a squeal, flicking a foreleg out to show his disapproval. “Hear thyself, fool!” He said fiercely. “Ye seeking dominion via hollow threats will find no gratification. I demandeth possession of thy soil; that is all thy may keep should battle fail my successes.” He tossed his head, unable to keep still for the anger that was stirring in him. How dare this blithering fool demand ownership of a child? Pawing at the ground again, Jargon parted his lips in a sneer, finally looking more like a monster than a noble equine. “Idiot, the conditions mine I shall expose when thy sight is in this dirt, but know immediately that never will thee have contact with a brat of my own blood,” the stallion concluded, and finally took the time to rear, throwing both forelegs into the air with a savage sort of joy.

(Attack #1)

The Irish Draught plunged forward, closing the negligible distance between the pair in a moment. However, he didn’t slow down for a moment, but flung his large body towards the other stallion, relying on the fact he was bigger and chunkier than the other to hopefully knock him off balance. He did not relent, but kept pushing on, his immense hindquarters propelling him forwards and his broad chest acting as a battering ram to take any blows he should receive. The theory was that, using neither tooth nor hoof, the Irish Draught could slam into the Arab and knock him to his knees, where he’d be at the mercy of Jargon’s massive hooves. Jargon’s thickset body could be jarring, particularly for a smaller equine, and could easily leave painful bruises or cracked bones. Failing that, he’d like to just keep barrelling into the chestnut, leaving him unable to get his balance or attack offensively, thus giving Jargon an opportunity to render a more damaging attack. However, it was also likely that he would be unable to cause significant damage without backing up his attack with more conventional weapons – teeth and hooves – in which case he may well have just wasted his time and energy.

However, it was a risk the black was willing to take, and when he finally ceased his forceful shoving towards the chestnut – whom he had named Idiot, for lack of better introductions – he was breathing heavily and keen to see if he’d actually caused any damage. The likelihood of causing bloody wounds was slim, but Jargon knew that dramatic injuries did not often cause significant damage, and it was the unseen hurts and internal bleeding that won battles.

Almost as soon as he’d stopped his attack, Jargon shied to the side, wanting to keep his face out of hoof’s reach, but kept his eyes on the chestnut. “Gather arms for worse, Idiot,” he roared at his opponent, his warning clear even if the fool didn’t understand his unique dialect. Jargon’s breathing was heavy but his eyes were alight with the intensity of his wild emotion. There was no doubt he was enjoying himself, even as he prepared for Idiot’s retaliation attack.

Edited by Taboo, Jan 3 2012, 09:35 AM.
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PhantomStallion
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Flame listened to the other’s puny and pitiful terms, anger rising when he was dubbed ‘Idiot’ by the other for lack of knowledge of another term. His anger reached its peak when the black pretty much refused one of his conditions. Was that even allowed? Banishing all thoughts from his mind with a shake of his head, he focused only on the taste of blood that would soon be his. The chestnut narrowed his eyes as the black attacked.

Defense 1 out of 2
As the larger stallion charged forward, Flame reared on his hind legs. If anyone asked him why he did this, he would answer that all common sense was muffled by a craving for blood. His blood pumped in his ears, he could hardly see through a sheen of red, and all he could smell was blood. Blood. BLOOD! When the black male charged into him, he hit his stomach, toppling Flame over onto his side. Jargon just kept going straight into him, and Flame felt one of his ribs crack. The chestnut hued stallion flailed his hooves blindly, hoping to ward off the black, and after a few seconds, he rolled over onto his other side and quickly stood. For a little bit longer, his opponent kept plowing into him, during which Flame leaped out of his way, before shying off to the side. Jargon’s first attack was over, and though blood still pumped in his ears, the other’s threat did not go unheard. Flame stepped aside to assess the damage.

Damage 1 out of 2

As Flame looked himself over, he found a couple small scratches and he felt some bruising. He knew that one of his ribs was definitely cracked at least, and it hurt a lot, but not so much that it was unbearable. There were also a few shallow gashes on his barrel, and blood was pouring out into the sand below, staining his red hair crimson. Looking up at the black through slits, Flame prepared for his attack.

Attack 1 out of 2

The fiery stallion trotted calmly and slowly over to his opponent, casually trotting beside him, going opposite Jargon and until his head was behind him on his left side (unless he had moved), and then circled back to stand to the black’s left side by side to him. With a quick movement, Flame reared and – hindered a little by the hits he had taken – lashed out his neck to theoretically seize Jargon’s mane in his teeth and pull back hard on his head and neck while putting his front hooves on the meeting point of the black’s neck and shoulder. The red stallion pushed forward with his hooves and pulled back with his head with hopefully black mane in his teeth to wrench and strain Jargon’s neck and leave a very painful sprain. As Flame finished, he dropped to all fours and let go of the black mane after a couple hopefully grueling seconds for Jargon. I could say the same for your fate, Idiot.
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Taboo
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Jargon was mildly surprised that he had caused flesh wounds; perhaps whilst running at the other, he’d unintentionally made more hoof contact than he’d thought. Jargon could not see Flame’s hurting ribs and didn’t notice anything unusual about his stance or posture. If he had, he probably would have had the sense to plan his next attack around the other’s injury. The black stood away from the other, taking advantage of the moment of stillness to plot how to approach the chestnut next.

When Flame trotted – trotted – over beside Jargon, the latter did what any sensible equine would do, and spun his haunches around to protect his vulnerable flanks from the slow-moving chestnut. Unfortunately, this meant than when Flame dived forward with hooves and teeth brandished, it was a chunk of mane closer to Jargon’s poll that was snatched up by Flame’s teeth, and when the latter wrenched his head back, it exposed Jargon’s neck and chest. Luckily, though, Jargon still had a height advantage of five inches, which disallowed the chestnut to pull Jargon’s head and neck too far. As Flame’s narrow throatlatch and jaw – even with his front hooves braced against Jargon’s chest – were little competition to Jargon’s entire muscly forehand, the black avoided significant spraining of his neck, though he would undoubtedly be sore from a minor strain later. However, fine Arab hooves tore through skin and muscle on Jargon’s front, leaving two long but shallow wounds on his chest, which considerably added to his discomfort. The black also lost a chunk of mane around his bridle path, which he barely noticed compared to his stinging chest and throbbing crest. Jargon grunted, wrenching his neck back and twisting violently to try to free his mane from Flame’s mouth, but the chestnut let go fairly quickly.

(Attack #2)

Due to the unexpectedness of Flame’s attack, Jargon had lost a little of his cockiness, and spared a moment to warily consider the chestnut. In that moment, Flame spoke, eliciting another squeal from the Irish Draught. The big stallion leapt forwards again, looking for a moment as though he would repeat his first attack. He looked angry enough to do something that stupid, but for all his eyes were rolling and his mouth foaming with anger, he was well prepared and thinking clearly. Like Flame had, Jargon lifted both his forelegs, but instead of plunging them into his chest or shoulders, as was the norm, the black aimed for Flame’s forearms, intending to punch his legs forwards and jerk them down hard. His aim was to pierce the skin in the Arab’s muscly forearms, and then slide his sharp hooves all the way down both Flame’s legs, which could rip through tendons and joints imperative to survival. Jargon had seen bone exposed from legs being torn through, resulting almost inevitably in an early death for the recipient. As he’d come forward at a rear, however, Jargon quickly realised the likelihood of hitting both of Flame’s skinny legs with both forelegs at the same time was quite slim, so quickly planted his left leg, lashing out with his right leg and then quickly switching legs and lashing out with his left. The result was something that looked like a ferocious dance move and would no doubt appear extremely strange to an outsider. However, if Jargon was lucky enough to make contact, he could cause considerable long-term damage and scarring; it seemed an appropriate reminder to not bargain for children.

As quickly as Jargon had leapt forwards, he leapt back, wanting a little more distance between himself and the chestnut. He bared his teeth, lowering his head slightly so his sore chest and crest would be harder to target for Flame’s next attack. “Improbable,” he hissed in response to Flame’s words, and gathered his haunches beneath his body, preparing to dodge away from anything that was thrown at him.

Edited by Taboo, Jan 3 2012, 06:56 PM.
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PhantomStallion
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Defense 2 out of 2

Flame kept up his guard, not trusting for a minute that Jargon would do what it seemed he would do. The large black’s composure frightened the smaller chestnut some, and he felt his gut tighten. Eyes almost flaming (no pun intended) with pent up anger letting loose, he blocked out all fear and feelings and let instinct take over. When Jargon reared up, looking like to aim for his chest, Flame stayed wary, which paid off when the black started coming down on his forelegs. Fast. Flame shied away, and was able to save his right fore, but felt a searing pain when Jargon’s razor sharp hooves dug into his left fore. Flame tried to hold strong, but a squeal of pain escaped him and his eyes rolled up in agony. He tried to get away without further hurting himself, but it wasn’t possible. He was sure he felt his skinny leg start to bend in a little in the beginning of a break, when Jargon started slamming his hooves into his leg in some sort of a strange dance. Flame was just quick enough to scramble away in between the changing of a hoof, limping heavily on his injured leg.

Damage 2 out of 2

Flame took a moment to survey his leg. There was a very deep gash in his left fore, and a couple of smaller ones around it from the strange dance. He could see torn tissue in the wound, and blood was everywhere. Hid hair was stained, and the sand where the attack had taken place and where he stood was covered with blood. It was everywhere. Glaring up at the black, he began his attack.

Attack 2 out of 2

Flame started galloping at the stallion as fast as his leg and rib would allow, and again, went on his left side, waiting until his head was by the others rump before wheeling around and rearing. As he faced the stallion, he knew that it did not matter which way Jargon moved for this attack to work. Unless the other moved completely out of the way, this attack would most likely cause a considerable amount of damage. Using his good leg, he slammed his right fore hoof down, ideally hitting right where Jargon’s spine was and causing hopefully in least case a gash and a bone crack, and in worst case paralyzation. He let loose an angry squeal and screamed, What do you think of my ‘improbability’ of beating you now? before dropping painfully down on all fours and hobbling away from the stallion to the other corner of the clearing. It was all over. All there was to do now was wait for the results.
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Taboo
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Knowing that his work was done, the big black stallion allowed the chestnut to examine his wounds. As Jargon had expected, only one of his two blows had made contact, which seemed fair enough. Whist not skinned to the bone – probably as Jargon lacked the battle experience of the equine that he’d first seen inflict such damage – it certainly looked painful, making the black feel a strange mix of queasiness and satisfaction.

In a moment, though, the chestnut was leaping forwards again, also seeming to go for the exact same attack as his first. Remembering how he’d been caught last time, Jargon decided instead to shoot backwards, reversing quickly to get away. As with last time, however, Jargon had chosen exactly the wrong thing to do – instead of slamming his hoof into Jargon’s spine, the chestnut clipped the black’s head, slamming all the force mustered into Jargon’s skull.

Knocked completely out cold, the black collapsed to the floor. Luckily, almost as soon as he hit the ground, he regained consciousness, and blindly swung his legs around, kicking out at nothing and making it near-impossible for Flame to attack again whilst his opponent was on the earth. Jargon then plunged to his feet, staggering as pain shot through his head. He blinked fiercely several times, feeling a jolt of fear when his eyes wouldn’t adjust and focus on anything. Blood ran down his face, pouring from a considerable cut around his poll, adding to the blood dripping from his chest. The black coughed; unsurprised that blood splattered from his nostrils as he did so.

Nonetheless, he was alive.

Aware that Flame had moved away, Jargon pinned his ears again. He was forced to relax them in an instant though, as the pain in his head prevented too much movement in the area. He ignored the chestnut’s jibe, instead turning his head in Flame’s direction and spitting on the ground, his disrespect clear. A moment later he realised that his vision was returning, and he sighed in relief. The colours and light of his surrounding seemed far more intense than they had just moments ago, before he was attacked, and it made his head hurt far more. But still, he’d rather have a killer concussion than be permanently blind, so he was relieved. Jargon slowly closed his eyes, his ears flopping to the sides, looking like an exhausted carthorse. His nostrils strained open, flared as far as they’d go, gulping in air to recover and locate his newfound enemy, still in his mind named Idiot.

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`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
i'm using kim's lovely layout, since it's easy and not hard to understand<3 haha.

first attacks


TABOO & JARGON
comments: not very creative, but quite original (i've never seen this before at least)--could prove effective.
originality: 4/5
damage done: 2/5
realism: 5/5
total: 11/15

PHANTOMSTALLION & FLAME
comments: effective attack, but it's rather unoriginal.
originality: 2/5
damage done: 3/5
realism: 5/5
total: 10/15

________________________________________________________________________


first defenses


TABOO & JARGON
comments: he avoided serious injury of his neck, but his chest was wounded, along with his crest. these are appropriate.
originality: 3/5
damage done: 4/5
realism: 5/5
total: 12/15

PHANTOMSTALLION & FLAME
comments: he got a few scratches/bruises--some that bled--and a cracked rib. these are appropriate, though i didn't understand the part where he fell down; how could jargon keep running into him if he's on the ground? he'd likely run completely over him haha.
originality: 3/5
damage done: 4/5
realism: 4/5
total: 11/15


________________________________________________________________________


second attacks


TABOO & JARGON
comments: original, i must say, though i would have liked to see jargon's injuries carried more onto the next attack rather than just at the end (remember, it's technically only been a few min since he was first attacked).

originality: 4/5
damage done: 3/5
realism: 4/5
total: 11/15

PHANTOMSTALLION & FLAME
comments: thank you for carrying on his injury through the attack--though it wasn't the most unique move.
originality: 3/5
damage done: 3/5
realism: 5/5
total: 11/15

________________________________________________________________________


second defenses


TABOO & JARGON
comments: suffered a severe concussion. i liked how you put it together, creative turn of events.
originality: 5/5
damage done: 3/5
realism: 5/5
total: 13/15

PHANTOMSTALLION & FLAME
comments: deep gash in his left leg, bleeding heavily. these are appropriate.
originality: 3/5
damage done: 3/5
realism: 5/5
total: 11/15


________________________________________________________________________


RESULTS


TABOO & JARGON
comments: i only found a few grammar/spelling errors. while jargon seemed to react to his injuries appropriately, i would suggest that his first injuries be more incorporated later on.
grammar / punctuation / spelling: 4/5
total: 51/65

PHANTOMSTALLION & FLAME
comments: again i didn't find a lot grammar issues. even though your attacks were fairly effective, i'd suggest that you use a little more creativeness.
grammar / punctuation / spelling: 4/5
total: 47/65




the victor is: TABOO & JARGON

the battle was so close!
you guys are amazing posters, i loved reading through it!(:
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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paper faces on parade;
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