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ain't no better way to get down; Ire vs. Martyr
Topic Started: Aug 2 2015, 05:32 PM (243 Views)
kimmys
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The anger inside of him has no beginning and no end. It swells inside of him until it overtakes everything and paints his vision red. Ire welcomes it. The power - true, false or imagined doesn't matter - hums in his blood and vibrates in his very bones until he feels as though he can take over the world. And he will, in time. Or, at least, his corner of it.

Ire wears a cloak of arrogance as he saunters into the battling grounds, not surprised to find the ground as barren as any desert. Not even a hint of any other creature reaches his nostrils, and clouds of soft sand, no longer hard packed by heavy use, puffs up beneath his feet, leaving a clear trail of dust looming in the heavy, still summer air. He is new to this world. Only six years have passed since he was born unto this planet, and only three since he experienced his second birth into the aboveground world. Everything is new to him, but he listens. To things said and unsaid, to the opinions expressed by young and old alike. And the general consensus was that Kormada had become soft.

Afraid. Timid. Full of false bravado. The names of many so-called dark stallions had reached his ears, but their notoriety was always localized, except for three long dead greats. Apparently, the dark community had languished in the years since the deaths of their figureheads. Too much weight was put into bloodlines and not enough into action and the living of the lifestyle they proclaimed to support. Sure, there were murderers. Plotters and schemers, but Ire feels as though he's not yet met another proper dark in the three years he's wandered.

Not that he minded. Not having any real competition would make it easier for him to bully his way into getting what he wanted, which is really all Ire wanted out of life. If he gained notoriety for his acts of cruelty, all the better. Not because he wanted to be known, but because in being known, he gains greater freedoms.

As he slows to a halt, Ire bellows for the current ruler of Serpent's Province. He knows that the stallion's name is Martyr, and that he's descended from the late, great Chronic, but has not bothered to learn more. The fact that nothing else readily came to wanderer's lips tells Ire plenty. And the thought of living in a well-known land, that was both dark due to its heavy canopy and glacially cold suited the stallion raised in the deep depths of the Dreamscapes better than anything he could think of.

He makes no pretense of bargaining or bartering. This would be an old school battle. All or nothing.

"Come now, Martyr. Get your sorry self over here so I can take both your home and your mares." Dark eyes scan the area, waiting to see if he would show up. "I like breaking pretty things." He pauses for a moment and chuckles, a sneer curling his pale lips. "I'll even let you go first."

OOC: So he's challenging for Serpent's Province and all the mares living there that are currently claimed by Martyr, played by fierce


IRE | 6 year old | Dark Stockhorse Hybrid Stallion | Homeless | 0 mares, 0 children
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ƒierce
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i've not yet begun to defile myself.
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Lines © LadyX-LT

MARTYR
we like our thrills dirt cheap and our irony thick
oh this is all we know



The blue stallion breathes slowly, allowing himself to gear toward battle. It had been some time since he had to battle for his home.
Last time, he hadn't done so well, but at least he hadn't died from the wounds. He had known of some who did.
All he could do was try his best and think out of the box.
He wasn't his sire or his grandsire; Martyr wouldn't pretend that he had the greatness as they had in their days.
Kormada was a different world now, and the Province was a haven.
Serpent's Province was home. He would not easily let it go.

It had been eight years since his last real battle. The one with Orion for the Province, which he had lost.
It hadn't been by much, but it was a loss anyway.
Martyr was not known for his prowess in battle. In fact...he really wasn't known at all.
Just a random son of Viral and a no name mare with nothing to his name but a shoddy claim on the throne.
There were a few sons like him, but that thought did not make the roan feel any better.

As Martyr came to stand before his opponent, he knew he did not bring any brawn to the battle.
He was lean and muscular, but not significantly so.
He stood shorter than Ire, not by much.
Martyr was a looker, but that fact would not do him much for fighting.

His black ears flicked back toward his poll at Ire's words.
He wouldn't just be losing the Province. It would be his mares, too.
Gossamer. Vivienne. Even Romexae and Blair, wherever they were.
That thought was not at all something that Martyr wanted to see happen.
Martyr lets the anger simmer in his blood.
It won't burn him; he doesn't quite have a temper so hot.

An apathetic glare comes from the icy depths of his eyes.
If Ire thought he would rule the Province for long or at all, he was wrong.
The Province would be lost over Martyr's dead body.
"I'm not sorry for much, especially if it means I can grind you into the dirt a little."
Martyr was not territorial over much, but the Province was his.
He'd never let it go.

The overo stallion closes his eyes for a moment.
The terms of the battle were simple.
Win and he would keep the Province and his mares.
Lose and it would all be Ire's.
Martyr exhaled. Silence.
"Let us begin."


ATTACK ONE
Blue eyes open quickly, already having known his first attack.
Ire might guess that Martyr would charge forward, and he was right.
The stallions hadn't been standing more than ten feet apart.
So, Martyr skirted forward, teeth bared and ears folded against his head.
He does not aim for Ire's neck; he wouldn't make it there before the painted male tucked his head.

He reaches forward, his head angled to grab into more.
He would be attempting to latch on to something considerably softer.
Ire's nostrils. The foremost part of his nose.

Martyr cannot tell if his attack has landed, but his teeth clamp down regardless.
If Ire pulls his head back, the skin and muscles will tear more than at first impact.
The blue roan hopes for the most damage.
He will find out if the fates are in his favor.


ƒierce   (adj.)   ferocious; bold; intense; dauntless
if i am chaos, then you are the storm inside of me
Aura | Fatale | Harlem | Phalaenopsis
Shikari | Shtriga | Vervain | Vitae
Carnivean | Finnigan | İskender
Lir | Martyr | Sonste | Thames
28 || adoptions -- log -- mare plotting -- to do list Asylum | Flannery | Hoarfrost | Israël | Magdalena | Rivulet| Salvatore
Sears | Stheno | Tribulation | Vermillion -- ( up for adoption )
Hollow | Ristian | Sémillon -- ( potentially adoptable )
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kimmys
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It doesn't take long for the roan to respond to his summons, slinking in like a downtrodden dog already kicked around by life. A predatorily keen look comes into his eyes as he studies the movement of his opponent, having never actually seen him before. He's a pretty thing. Probably does well for himself with the ladies, and had the circumstances been different, Ire might even have pressed a little too close with this one. The odds of that happening now, however, were so slim as to be nonexistent. And carnal pleasure is something that will have to wait until after the battlegrounds, as Ire highly doubts that he'll be able to win this particular battle with tongues or the press of flesh on flesh.

The liver chestnut had to admit, he's never quite faced an opponent that responded with calmness and an apathetic glare of all things. For a half of a second, the space between the flub and the dub of a heartbeat, he wonders if he's underestimated this stallion. Ire has always run hot himself. Hot temper. Hot desire. He's a creature that, born into cold, always craves the heat inside of himself. Thus, while they are not quite kryptonite to him, he struggles to understand stallions who project icy cold demeanors, and tends to prod at them until they give up the façade.

There is a pause between Martyr's answer, and his announcement that he was beginning. While Ire has never officially battled for anything in his life, nor undertaken any official training, he has taken part in any number of skirmishes. He's not a complete stranger to the process, and watches eagerly as the opposing overo finally gets moving.

DEFENSE 1

Ire doesn't know if it is intentional or not, but Martyr seems to telegraph his intentions. None of the shucking and diving that Ire is used to, just a straight charge with mouth gaping and ears pinned. It would be easy, perhaps, to dance as nimbly away as a bullfighter, for the roan's charge seems as clumsy to Ire as a bull's would be. But he'd much rather prefer to use Martyr's momentum against him, and therefore braces himself for impact, and leans his shoulder into the blue roan's direction. Thus far, having gone off of the straight forward charge and what would seem to be Martyr's aim, Ire tucks his chin in, protecting the tender section under his jaw.

He understands his opponent's true target only a moment before Martyr is upon him, and does not have time to move his head away. In fact, in tucking his chin to protect against attacks to his throat, he's put his head into a more perilous position. Wresting his head away with a grunt of pain, he can feel the stallion's teeth scrape across the thin and sensitive skin below his eye, tearing it open. Due to the lack of muscle or fat, Martyr's actually managed to flay him open along the ridge of his cheekbone, and like most head wounds, it begins to pour blood. The actual scrape itself is about five inches long, and up to an inch wide.

ATTACK 1

Angry and in pain, a squeal erupts from the liver chestnut as he continues yanking his head out of the way (to the opposite side from where Martyr is). This disrupts his initial plan for attack, but Ire uses the momentum of turning his head away into a new attack. Continuing the arc of his neck, he half-rears and pivots before planting his front feet into the sandy soil and lashing out viciously with his hind hooves. To this point he has assumed that Martyr's forward momentum was slowed due to their collision, which means that when he lashes out with his hind legs, he is aiming for where he thinks the lower part of Martyr's ribcage is, just above and to the side of where the elbow is.

A successful hit in this spot, directly behind Martyr's elbow would have the potential for a lot of destruction. If Ire's aim was true, broken ribs were more than likely, and a broken rib could easily puncture heart or lungs. Too low and there was the potential of catching Martyr's leg or the important shoulder muscles. However, if Ire's aim was too high, there was much less of a chance for lasting damage as Martyr's vital organs would be better protected by the stronger part of the ribs. In his attack, Ire had hoped to aim a bit lower rather than higher, but it happened so fast that he wasn't immediately sure what, if anything, he had hit.

He doesn't have much time (assuming and/or giving Martyr a chance to attack right away), but does manage to get his hind legs down to the ground before time speeds back up again.

INJURIES
- Head wound. Scraped 5 in x 1 in open to bone along his cheekbone. Bleeding heavily.



IRE | 6 year old | Dark Stockhorse Hybrid Stallion | Homeless | 0 mares, 0 children
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ƒierce
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i've not yet begun to defile myself.
DEFENSE ONE
Space grows between the stallions, but Martyr can taste blood.
That and the squeal of pain from Ire grows a sinister smirk on his black lips.
Martyr was glad that at least some of his attack had landed.
His momentum slows, and his forehooves begin planting into the ground before him...
...but not before Ire's blow lands.

The force of Ire's hooves knocks the air from the overo's lungs.
He can hear something snap, and pain shoots up his side.
Martyr lets out a cry of pain, not unlike Ire's before him.
Ire's attack had landed higher than intended, but there was damage nonetheless.

Two ribs broken, and three more fractured. No punctured organs.
There was also blood, shallow gashes from Ire's hooves.
The injuries would take time to heal after it was all over.
Martyr wouldn't let this hold him back now.
There was too much at stake.


ATTACK TWO
His hooves fumble for two steps, but Martyr manages to aim himself toward Ire again.
Martyr attempts to act quickly before the shock of injury can slow his mind.
The adrenaline still pumps in his veins. So, he uses it.
The overo strides forward, turning toward his opponent.

Ire's head is turned mildly in his direction at the point, the side opposite of Martyr's first blow.
Martyr takes a full stride to pull the foremost of his body up into a half-rear.
Forehooves stretch out before him in air and pull downward to pummel anything he can on the way down.
This attack would mainly be directed toward Ire's poll, neck, or back.

The closer Ire is, the higher Martyr's aim may be up his body.
If Ire is farther, Martyr might hit more toward his back or the tops of his shoulders.
There is no telling if the blow will land correctly, if at all.
One way or another, Martyr hopes to have injured Ire this round.
ƒierce   (adj.)   ferocious; bold; intense; dauntless
if i am chaos, then you are the storm inside of me
Aura | Fatale | Harlem | Phalaenopsis
Shikari | Shtriga | Vervain | Vitae
Carnivean | Finnigan | İskender
Lir | Martyr | Sonste | Thames
28 || adoptions -- log -- mare plotting -- to do list Asylum | Flannery | Hoarfrost | Israël | Magdalena | Rivulet| Salvatore
Sears | Stheno | Tribulation | Vermillion -- ( up for adoption )
Hollow | Ristian | Sémillon -- ( potentially adoptable )
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kimmys
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The scars on Ire's hide stand testament to the fact that he is no stranger to wounds and blood. The crimson liquid had begun to slide down his face wound, across his lips to drip at a steady rate from his chin, exacerbated by the adrenaline flowing through his blood. It's almost enough of a distraction to keep him from paying attention to how much damage he had caused, but not quite. Ire remembers the satisfying crunch of more than one rib, despite the fact that he'd hit a bit higher than he had intended. Ire smiles with vindictive satisfaction, even as he attempts to deal with the oncoming pinto.

DEFENSE TWO

From the corner of his eye he watches as the overo pirouettes and heads toward him again, closing the small amount of distance rather quickly. During this time, Ire is gathering his feet and regaining his balance, so does not really have time to move out of the way. Knowing this, Ire decides that his best bet is not to pull away from Martyr, but to press closer as his opponent starts pulling his body upward. It looks as though Martyr is only going to half-rear, but in some weird suspension of time he continues pulling his body upward into a full rear (I'm assuming anyway, since he's now targeting Ire's poll and back, which wouldn't be in target range at a half-rear due to the fact that Ire is taller than Martyr). The liver chestnut is too busy with his plan of action to worry about this suspension of physics, and rushes toward his opponent.

Unfortunately, this proximity does put Ire in a dangerous position. With the roan's hooves flailing in the air directly above his poll and head region, it is only a matter of time before they make contact. The first deals only a solid blow to the upper part of his neck, and Ire knows that the muscle is deeply bruised and will make it quite hard to lift his head for days once the adrenaline stops flowing. However, it is the second blow that deals the most damage. The second hoof lands squarely on Ire's poll, pushing his head down slightly while forcing him to bite his tongue. Unfortunately, it's not the blood now pooling inside his mouth that is the main damage. The second blow has caused Ire to become concussed.

ATTACK TWO

Confused or not, it's already too late into Ire's counter attack to back out, not that he had any intention of doing so. By rushing forward, and putting himself into the danger zone, he has hopefully caught the overo while he's still rearing up, balancing on two legs. Putting his full weight at a dead run, Ire hopes to bash into Martyr's chest or underbelly with his own shoulder, and then continue pushing to hopefully flip the smaller stallion over. Initially he had wanted to take a snug hold on Martyr's throat to do this, but as his mouth is filling up with bloody spit faster than he can spit it out, biting the roan is no longer an option.

While this attack doesn't perhaps look initially like a very serious attack with the lack of hooves or teeth, Ire is hoping that because of the damage caused earlier, it will do high amounts of damage. Firstly, in attempting to ram his shoulder and withers against Martyr's girth area, he could knock the breath out of the stallion again. Not to mention, with broken or cracked ribs, hitting that area again could cause the already painful ribs to pierce Martyr's vital organs or just generalized, excruciating pain. Lastly, if Ire did manage to push Martyr over (as is his original intention), there likely wouldn't be much damage other than generally being bruised, but the indignity for his opponent would be a delicious sight for Ire.

Attacks finished, he draws away, staggering slightly as he slows due to his concussion. Dark brown eyes whip to his opponent to see the outcome, even as things begin to appear more bright and too saturated than they normally are.

INJURIES
- Same face wound from earlier
- Deep tissue bruising along upper side of neck
- Bitten tongue, now bleeding
- Concussion


IRE | 6 year old | Dark Stockhorse Hybrid Stallion | Homeless | 0 mares, 0 children
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ƒierce
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i've not yet begun to defile myself.
DEFENSE TWO
It surprised Martyr to see Ire moving toward him while he was attacking.
He had a bad feeling of what the stallion had in store for his next attack.
Though his forehand was on its way back toward the ground, he was still in the air when Ire came to deal his attack.
There was nothing Martyr could do to stop it.

His lower position forces Ire's attack to land on the forward-most part of Martyr's underbelly, just below his chest.
The blow forces Martyr backward a few steps, and it ultimately forces a fractured rib to snap.
This knocks the breath from Martyr's lungs and makes pain shoot up his chest and side.
There will be significant bruising and swelling from this injury.

After the few steps backward on his hindlegs, the overo manages to untangle his upper body from Ire's and place his forehooves on the ground.
The stallion's steps are placed gingerly, his breath heaving from the pain and Ire's last blow.
It will hurt to breath for a few days, and his harder activities will have to be put aside until the bruising begins to heal.

He doesn't offer congratulations to Ire on a good battle.
Martyr focuses on assessing the damage.
He has three broken ribs now, two fractured.
Shallow, bleeding gashes from Ire's hooves on his ribcage.
Severe bruising and swelling on his chest and underbelly.
Labored breathing from the blow to his chest.

It would take some time to heal.
Even if Martyr lost and wanted to come after Ire again,he would have to wait at least a month to do.
That is if he didn't want those ribs to pierce anything important.
His eyes turn to Ire, wincing as he inhaled.
Who would the winner be?

ƒierce   (adj.)   ferocious; bold; intense; dauntless
if i am chaos, then you are the storm inside of me
Aura | Fatale | Harlem | Phalaenopsis
Shikari | Shtriga | Vervain | Vitae
Carnivean | Finnigan | İskender
Lir | Martyr | Sonste | Thames
28 || adoptions -- log -- mare plotting -- to do list Asylum | Flannery | Hoarfrost | Israël | Magdalena | Rivulet| Salvatore
Sears | Stheno | Tribulation | Vermillion -- ( up for adoption )
Hollow | Ristian | Sémillon -- ( potentially adoptable )
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`d e p p
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I think everybody's nuts.
[justify=740]FIRST ATTACKS
SEN AND MARTYR
→ Martyr aims to bite the tip of Ire's nose/nostrils.
Damages given: 5/10
Originality: 8/10
Realism: 8/10
Total: 21/30

KIM AND IRE
→ Ire aims a kick at Martyr's lower ribcage.
Damages given: 8/10
Originality: 6/10
Realism: 9/10
Total: 23/30

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FIRST DEFENSES

SEN AND MARTYR
→ Shallow gashes on his abdomen, two broken ribs, three fractured ribs, no punctured organs.
Damages sustained: 8/10
Originality: 6/10
Realism: 8/10
Total: 22/30

KIM AND IRE
→ Long gash across his cheekbone.
Damages sustained: 7/10
Originality: 8/10
Realism: 8/10
Total: 23/30

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

SECOND ATTACKS

SEN AND MARTYR
→ Martyr half-rears (rears?) and aims to wound Ire's poll, neck, or back with his hooves.
Quote:
 
Ire's head is turned mildly in his direction at the point, the side opposite of Martyr's first blow.
I do consider this a form of power playing, as you could have easily worded it as "Assuming Ire's head is turned..." or "He assumed Ire's head was turned..."; per the rules, this will deduct a point for this round.

Damages given: 8/10
Originality: 6/10
Realism: 7/10
- 1 for power playing
Total: 20/30

KIM AND IRE
→ Ire runs into Martyr's underbelly, aiming to flip him over.
Damages given: 7/10
Originality: 9/10
Realism: 8/10
Total: 24/30

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

SECOND DEFENSES

SEN AND MARTYR
→ Bruising on his chest and underbelly, broke a fractured rib.
Damages sustained: 7/10
Originality: 7/10
Realism: 8/10
Total: 22/30

KIM AND IRE
→ Bruised upper neck, bitten/bleeding tongue, concussion.
Damages sustained: 8/10
Originality: 8/10
Realism: 8/10
Total: 24/30

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

OVERALL

SEN AND MARTYR
Comments: Overall, very good! I would just suggest for the future that you keep in mind a better sense of where your character and the other character is, how height and size would effect them, etc. (in attack 2 for example). Just a tip!:)
Variety of attacks: 8/10
Grammar / punctuation / spelling: 8/10
Overall total: 101/140

KIM AND IRE
Comments: Very good! (I'm happy you're back!) You do a very nice job executing and explaining attacks, as well as sustaining damage for your character.
Variety of attacks: 8/10
Grammar / punctuation / spelling: 9/10
Overall total: 111/140


The victor is..
K I M AND I R E

Congratulations!

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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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