Epiphron had never been a woman particularly prone to violence; and though she was not the gentlest of beasts, Azalea's betrayal had been the final push over the edge. First, it had been her husband's infidelity that had formed this pit of rage that sat in the middle of her stomach, refusing to be satiated -- she had maimed him as well, not wanting him to ever forget how foolish it was to dishonor her and to disgrace her family name. And now, seeing Azalea so easily sitting beside the woman that was clearly a kin of Isardis.. this was the final step. Anger coursed through her veins, blood pounding in her head, a dull ache beginning to form between her ears as she grew more angry by the moment. Azalea had always been a confused girl, never quite the same as the rest of her family... but to come to sit at the side of Isardis, as though he was an ally to her, was too maddening to bear. Despite everything, she was an Adravendi; how had she forgotten this? What she truly wondered the most was how she was not cheering Syrinx on, and begging him to end the life of the albino King. Isardis had violated her and forced her to bear children that she hadn't even wanted. A snarl rippled through the air as she sought to strike Azalea, fangs begging to tear into the woman's flesh, wishing to inflict the same punishment that Argent had on Chrysanthe. ?An eye for an eye,? she repeated silently, lips curling into a cold sneer. Still her paws were spread evenly, attempting to distribute her weight to all four limbs still, knowing it would be easy to lose balance otherwise. As she aimed to bury her teeth into the left side of Azalea's face, she kept her shoulders rolled forward and tensed, her body remaining aligned directly in front of Azalea's. The care she took in leaning forward only provided her with more balance and poise. Her own hackles were raised now by pure instinct, her entire being flooded with adrenaline and the drive to not just fight, but also to protect herself. She kept her eyes narrowed, fur scrunching around her face and eyes to protect her from any kind of retaliatory attack to the face. Azalea?s instinct was to duck her forehead down, directly avoiding some of the attack, though she felt her jaws dig into her niece?s forehead. The taste of blood brought her no relief, no consolation, and certainly no happiness -- she didn?t want to necessarily hurt Azalea, but to show her how foolish she was being. To side with the enemy was a grave mistake, even if she had not verbalized her desire to defend Isardis. Sitting by Roman said more than words ever could. Attempting to remain aligned directly head-on with Azalea, she felt the woman?s left shoulder collide with her own, attempting to push her back. Though she moved with purpose, she had no desire whatsoever to kill Azalea -- death would be the very last thing she would wish upon her niece. All she wished upon her was a punishment she would remember. Perhaps in blinding her, she could open her eyes to the truth. It seemed that Epiphron had suddenly gained Syrinx?s terrible habit of doing wrong things for the right reasons -- she had fooled herself instantaneously into believing that hurting Azalea would somehow help her. The threat of losing her brother was all too real now and she found herself slipping into a manic frenzy. Epiphron had no real interest in attacking Azalea?s neck, and she was instead grateful for her niece?s head tilting downward. The collision forced her backwards, but she struggled to maintain some semblance of balance. She was not sent sprawling, but temporarily she found herself losing her posture. Her tail lashed out behind her, standing sharply at ground level at her rear to keep her stabilized, A roar left Epiphron?s lips -- a horrible, earth-shattering growl that even she did not know she was capable of. Pain emanated in her left shoulder where her niece had made contact with her, a bruise already beginning to form beneath her skin. Instantly she would duck her head down to align with her back, her knees bending slightly, knowing she would be just as likely to topple over if her muscles were too tensed and rigid. She felt her toes clenching as she stretched them wide to gain more traction, ears pinning against her skull as her lips curled into a snarl. Fury ebbed through her veins as she once again attempted to draw her body forward, this time angling herself slightly to the right. She would hope to rear up slightly on her hind legs as she leapt forward at a slight angle, her weight pushing forward as she aimed to close her jaws around the flesh that held Azalea?s left eye in place. She strove to snap her jaws open and closed, wanting so badly to inflict permanent damage on the eye itself, hoping the pressure was enough to badly damage it. Her intention was to render the eye totally blind, but she knew Azalea wouldn't let her win so easily -- her niece had always been a fighter. But it was the image of Chrysanthe?s own useless eye, so mangled and scarred from battle, that pushed her on. Epiphron vs. Azalea for maim of right eye Round 2 / 2 Attacks: Coming slightly from the right, once again aiming to bite at the left side of Azalea?s face and potentially maim/blind her in her left eye. Defenses: Paws spread evenly to distribute weight & maintain balance, toes spread, shoulders rolled forward, tail straight behind her to keep balance as she is forced backwards, fur around her face scrunched up to protect her skin and eyes, knees bent slightly, ears flattened against skull. Injuries: Bruising and soreness in right shoulder.

And if he dies, what will become of her? The peculiar mistress loiters upon the scene, silently bewildered and utterly perplexed; onwards, her father battled his prime enemy in a fight that would surely result in one clenching the others heart in eager fists. She had the upmost faith in her Patriarch, of course, however the coiling thoughts of his demise were enough to cause her stomach to churn in bitter revulsion. Golden lanterns seek those present, pondering silently who she will pledge her body and mind to should her father become nothing but another stain upon the Battlefields sand. Chaos unfolds, marked towers catching repulsive oddments of an Adravendi?s accusations towards Azalea; immediately her spine bristles, defences falling solid as the war-child paces closer, amber gaze simmering with intent upon the now-thrashing forms of the duo as Epiphron wrestles to destroy Azalea?s veneer. Muscles tremor, daring the Adravendi to win, craving silently that she tears Roman?s acquaintances eye from her socket; so the peculiar wildling can seek bloodied retribution upon her pathetic crimes.

If the two had had time to talk things over, perhaps the outcome would have been different. Azalea did not see it wrong to befriend an Armada and if she went her whole life thinking that way then she might as well tell Soren and Kismet to leave and never try to find her again. They were Armada just as much as they were Adravendi. In this public arena the two seemed fated to collide with tooth and nail. Where Epiphron sought to shame her, Azalea sought to rise above. It had occurred to her that this was the perfect way to part herself from her family. When she left Valhalla behind and the haze in her mind began to clear she had contemplated a name change to depart wholly and firmly from her past. She was not a victim. She was not wrong. And most of all, Azalea was not weak. She was worth well more than her family pegged her for. As Azalea retaliated against her aunt's attack she could feel the blood begin to well and spill over, staining her fur a very dark color. The motion caused droplets to go flying, lost in the fray as their shoulders struck and Pip roared to life. The sound from her aunt was unlike anything she had heard from her before. Never had the younger female seen the blue eyed grand daughter of Cairo be so aggressive. Azalea's tactic seemed to work, pressing her family member back and causing her balance to shift. Azalea was already phasing into her next attack though and Epiphron was quickly righting herself. Their next collision was sure to be a brutal one, she could tell already. Her tail stood out straight behind her, bends bending and holding bounce as she prepared to strike again. She was on her toes, prepared to strike. A snarl still on her face as her chin tucked once more and her ears folded themselves to her already ravaged skull. She came to realize then that she had opened her left eye out of her own accord. Epiphron's next barrage came swiftly then, giving her no time to be grateful for her eye sight. Again teeth came for her face but this time Azalea did not truly shy away. With a snarl Azalea would rip forward, her right foreleg lifting as she looked to overcome her aunt's shoulder blades, mouth growing wide as her own ivories poised to Epiphron's scruff. As Azalea goes to rise over her aunt, her tail curled to the left some and her hind end side steps to her own right. She could feel the harsh collision of teeth with her face and this time the pain came like a wave crashing into the shore. Her body jerked at the pain but she was too far into her attack for a yelp to leave her body. Azalea's aim was to grab her aunt's neck and twist and shake and make her hurt as she did right now. Azalea would not give up her attack there though, drawing her head back and turning her head to the left she aimed to grabbed and rip the pale ear right off of Epiphron's pretty head. If she were destined to have a fucked up face, then Epiphron would only get one ear. With her left eye in darkness it was hard to say in that moment if she had shut it, lost it, or was just blinded by blood. Perhaps the others around her had watched as her delicate eyeball was popped like a cherry. Epiphron vs Azalea for maim (was told since I had put the maim part in my first post that changing to a maim rather than dominance should be fine) Round 2 of 2 attack: Azalea meets Epiphron head on and then shift her position slightly to her right (Pip's left), trying to put her right leg over Epiphron's shoulders and hold her close as she seeks to bite, shake and release the upper left side of her neck before trying to rip off Pip's left ear.

War was what fueled her -- what kept her alive. The bitch craved the thrill of adrenaline in her veins -- craved the stains of blood upon her vision. What she could wish upon -- could be received. A call of challenge would rattle the land, the siren immediately ghosting toward the sound to haunt the field of battle. On the field, a crowd already had been gathering, two battles being fought at once, blood staining the floor -- though she only paid mind to one, the battle of two foes -- her father and Isardis. "Cleave him to bits, father. Claim what belongs to you. The empire must fall at your paws." Quietly she crooned, sending her rare blessings upon her father, wishing upon his victory and rights to slaughter the deformed 'King', and end his family's reign over the Alacritian lands. 'For their reign has gone unchecked for far too long.' "Speech."

Had it not have been for the spoilt childs words Satis would have found momentary harmony waiting for the outcome of Azalea?s battle. Alas, it is an earthy being and her foul mouth that sends Satis in an eager lope in the babes direction, seeking to pause a few meters from the girls right side. ?How about I cleave you apart, child? It is only a coward who speaks such words whilst dreaming on the sidelines,? fangs bare as lips pull into a snarl, adrenaline fuelled by the raging fights that enveloped the peculiarities fervent being. ?After all, I seek only to claim what is mine; and it?s going to be your dazzling tail,? words seep as poisonous threats and defences raise within an instance; skull lowered as chin tucks, golden gaze narrow upon the earthy girls form, toes splay as claws dig into the loam for traction and knees bend, four limbs squared and balance equal, spine aligned with her nape as tail tucks defensively between haunches, abdomen tight and harks stitched against atypical crown as her teeth bare and jaws unhinge, hackles bristling. Dark nails push eagerly into the earth as the Armada localises her power to her haunches, seeking to move towards Synder at a controlled jog, muscles supple in preparation to change course should the babe try and prevent access. Satis attempts to approach the child?s right side at a 20 degree angle, with her skull pointed ambitiously in the direction of the girl?s rear end. With an ultimate endeavour to launch from her hindquarters the African oddity elevates her right shoulder blade in an attempt to drive it into the soft, fleshy region behind the last right ribs and before her hind right thigh; hoping to collide bone with the small intestine and cause extreme bruising or fatal rupture. Skull strives to hunt towards her own left as spine seeks to extend, attempting to grasp the girls tail in gaping jaws about an inch upwards from its base; where her cranium will then seek to pull rapidly back to her right and hopefully up towards her oppositions spine, ambitious to shatter the vertebrae within her tail and potentially cause splintering bones to savage skin. If the body part did not pull free, should Satis find her ultimate success there was no doubt it could shrivel and die after loss of circulation regardless. However simultaneously, in an effort to make her attack upmost effective, Satis attempts to momentarily lift her right forepaw; hoping to stomp it aggressively down upon Synder?s back right hind paw in an effort to prevent the girl moving her haunches away, and to potentially cause future pain to the toes. A few moments later and regardless of success Satis will replace her right paw soundly beneath her in an effort to restabilise her balance. Satis vs. Synder ? Round 1 of ??? For Maim/Removal of Tail.

He is present, if not barely; loitering within the shadow of the moon as no more than a pale and obscured imagining. Ghoul?s battle athwart the rocky throes of the fields, his father answering the confront of an Adravendi who begged to trophy his head. He was bothered in the least, brow rutted vaguely as the youth looks on at the raged thrashing of his father and the one he presumed to be Syrinx- his arch nemesis. Though the Armada saw no bliss in joining the brutal war of his family at the time, sinister thoughts for future comebacks were already light within the caverns of his busy intellect. Jigsaw is in attendance solely to witness the outcome of the death match that quarrels ahead; finding little interest in loose bashing as several others did.

fight starts at the **
saf has informed me that she's leaving this weekend, so if she passes the deadline during her absence i will not default her. skype for questions!

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? there is no denying the aggravation that festers within the tyrant?s bones, no silencing the animosity which plagues the chasms of her vindictive mind; she is wrath incarnate, a sinful carnage queen who craves to vehemently reprimand those that had dared to flee when pitted against raw supremacy. and when she had sought the retribution of her adversaries, still she had been abandoned -- left to nurse an intense bloodlust that had gone unslaked for far too long; but nevermore. it is his call that forces the phantom deity from her enigmatic crypt, the most bittersweet sensation of trepidation flaring within her broadened chest cavity; it is syrinx -- the red titan -- and the tenor of his summons clearly enunciates every savage intention that loiters within his bones. a herald for death { and for whom is obvious }, and the elysius adheres to the cacophonic symphony with dutiful and methodical precision, adrenaline rapidly creeping through steel veins as she moves with the practiced fluidity of a queen -- and juggernaut. and as she approaches the epicenter of the infamous battlegrounds, so the chaos unfolds, and her mismatched gaze of violet and silver ravages the scene with intense scrutiny. avid pupils momentarily linger upon isardis and syrinx -- a perfect representation of fire and ice { and their clashing qualities } -- and the tyrant discovers the anxiety which lurks beneath her apathetic guise. however undesired it is, still it is present when she looks upon the armada patriarch, and the phantom finds herself leaning towards his favor; however silently her hopes remain. you cannot fall -- not today. ** yet her gaze wavers from outburst to outburst, and in doing so, so the familiar physique of her former adversary sidles into view. anticipation burns the multitude of lacerations that mar her once-pretty countenance, and soon it is impulse and the carnal desire for gore that instigates the urge for annihilation. the russet pawn had narrowly escaped war beneath the whims of a negligent whore, but there was no fleeing the violence that the elysius now craves to inflict upon her -- again. with a smirk so criminal engraved into the porcelain folds of her visage, the phantom begins to secure her defenses: her skull descends over her breast and her tail streamlines with the remainder of her spinal cord, her chin tucking against the curvature of her neck while her abdomen tenses and her hackles bristle along the length of her spine. shoulders roll forward and roll high while her skull draws back slightly to encumber her jugular in a protective halo of excess flesh and fat, abstract gaze narrowing to violent slits while her ears sew against the contours of her lowered crown. limbs bend slightly at the joints to lower her center of gravity while spreading equidistant apart, squaring her stance accordingly so that she might distribute her weight evenly among each appendage. toes splay and nails grapple the tainted earth beneath her in hopes of maintaining traction as her jaws unhinge, lips unfurling to expose the gluttonous incisors that had once craved to impale the red queen?s eye -- and now sought to pierce through her pawn?s. for if the red queen sought to save her own skin, so her counterparts would s u f f e r for their master?s cowardice. every ounce of fury that rages through her interior is released in the form of a guttural snarl that rips through gaping jaws as the tyrant queen announces her brutal intentions. { for still she is not a coward like they; she attacks with merciful forewarning. } there is yet sinful determination in her narrowed gaze as her assault commences -- robust appendages pumping madly in an attempt to close the distance that lingers between she and her adversary with lengthy strides, hoping to approach the pawn at a perpendicular angle from the woman?s left side and intending to position herself from the upper half of the woman?s left-sided rib-cage. her own jutting right shoulder blade intends to serve as the focus of her attempted assault, hoping to slam against the portion of her foe?s left-sided rib-cage just behind her { sibelle?s } left shoulder, and located towards the bottom of the ribs. the elysius? intentions are barbaric -- she yearns to break the woman?s targeted ribs with the potential force of her attempted slam and momentum. simultaneously, ravenous jaws will attempt to latch upon the left side of her foe?s face -- top set of teeth intending to pierce through sibelle?s left eye while her bottom set will seek to hook through the tender flesh upon the outside portion of sibelle?s left cheek, jaws tilting to her own left as she intends to diagonally angle her jaws upon her adversary?s left-sided face. her own left forepaw will leave the safety of the earth as her balance shifts evenly among her three grounded limbs to support her weight, attempting to hook around the front of sibelle?s left front ankle and pull back towards herself in hopes of upsetting the russet woman?s balance. all the while, her defenses are maintained to the best of her ability, for she knows that the slightest falter in this battle could be fatal -- her opponent is not weak; yet still, she had not been strong enough to best the elysius before. ARTEMIS vs SIBELLE for LEFT EYE ONE of THREE table by lu.

Epiphron vs Azalea for Maim Round 1 Epiphron: CLARITY: 9 / 10 POWERPLAYING: 10 / 10 DEFENSES: 4 / 10 ATTACK: 3 / 10 INJURIES: 10 / 10 Round one Epiphron Total: 36 / 50 Azalea: CLARITY: 9 / 10 POWERPLAYING: 10 / 10 DEFENSES: 6 / 10 ATTACK: 3 / 10 INJURIES: 10 / 10 Round one Azalea Total: 38 / 50 Round 2 Epiphron: CLARITY: 9 / 10 POWERPLAYING: 10 / 10 DEFENSES: 7 / 10 ATTACK: 5 / 10 INJURIES: 7 / 10 Round two Epiphron Total: 38 / 50 Azalea: CLARITY: 8 / 10 POWERPLAYING: 10 / 10 DEFENSES: 6 / 10 ATTACK: 6 / 10 INJURIES: 7 / 10 Round two Azalea Total: 37 / 50 Totals: Epiphron: 74 /100 Azalea: 75 /100 And the winner is... Azalea!Epiphron must give up by either submitting, fleeing, or passing out. Damage: Epiphron- bruising to her right shoulder, possible tearing to her scruff, torn/ripped off left ear Azalea- Deep wounds to her forehead and area around her left eye, possible temporary damage to the eye/mild vision loss Notes: This was SO close. I really had to split hairs for it to not be a tie. Very good job to both of you! Very fun to read and judge. Please feel free to Skype me or PM Athena's account if you have any questions on how I judged this. Good job again! --- Shelby <3 EDIT TO ADD JUDGING NOTES: The way I judge defenses is 1 point per defense up to 7ish points because it's so easy to get that many and then add on from there based on creativity. The way I judge attacks is based on how many moves there are in the attack and the creativity of the attack. Unless it is a really creative move, a one move attack will only get 3-4 points. Two moves, 6ish points, and so on. Of course that will vary based on how believable and attainable the attack is. I personally do not believe damage is a very fair thing to judge in a short fight like this so for the second round I tend to give either equal or close to equal points in this catagory. ALL THAT BEING SAID, here's some individual comments. Nyx - Where you really lost points was in the first round with your defenses. The first round simply didn't have very many defenses listed and I tend to be pretty picky on this since it's SO easy to list a bunch of defenses. You also tended to lose some points in the attack area because they were simple, one move attacks. Yes, they were bites to the head, but I really like to see some more creativity. Otherwise your posts were very good. They were pretty clear, pretty easy to read. Trynx - In your second post, I really liked the complexity of your attacks, but there were just a few spots were it tended to get a bit jumbled and it took me a few reads to really get what Azalea was trying to do. That's why there was an 8 for clarity. You had the opposite problem in your first post. You got a 3 for attack because of the one move, very simple attack. I understood the move plot-wise and everything, it just couldn't really compare to a bite on her head. I hope that clears up a few things. - Shelby.

Default to JUPITER

Due to Hestia not posting in the allotted time, Jupiter is the winner, and may now remove Hestia's tongue as per the conditions of the challenge.

Hestia can no longer fight or prevent the maim and must give up by either passing out, submitting, or running away.

Fight begins at **. Such vivid dreams of sugarplums and fairies haunt her imagination that the angel hardly notices the gazelle challenging her. A sharp voice would creep into her veldt auditories, as her crown would turn in the direction of the golden siren -- to her right -- cyan gems only given to her own amber gems. "How about I cleave you apart, child? It is only a coward who speaks such words whilst dreaming on the sidelines,? Her plume would unfurl, as the siren would rise, a comment slipping from inky lips of pure hatred. "Your blood is sinful, gazelle. Pathetic." In reply to her speech came a horrid snarl from the grazer, lips peeled in an ugly hiss of fury, as her defenses would fall into place. "I'd like to see you try to rip my tail off, bitch." ** Without any further questioning, both the siren and gazelle would lock into battle and begin to prepare for whichever female would strike first. The siren would allow her crown to lower to align with her shoulders, and upon her crown her ears laid flat, hidden in the plush plume of her neck, the skin upon her forehead tightening. Her cyan gems would narrow to bare slits to protect against dust that was floating in the air from all of the fierce battles initiated by long-held hatred, as well as to tighten the skin about her eyebrows to increase tension and reduce ease of scarring. Lips would peel in a ugly snarl, the skin upon the maw tightening just as her eyebrows. Her shoulders would roll backwards, hackles rising to toughen the skin beneath and to aid in the protection of her nape. The siren's chin would become tucked to further aid in protecting her scruff, as well as to guard her vitalities, such as her jugular. Knees would bend, poised for if the gazelle would try a more physical assault by charging to stun the smaller siren long enough to rip off her glorious plume, tendons within loosening to absorb shock if she were to land a charge. Abdomen would tuck, skin tightening on her sides and somewhat on her back, whilst her legs would begin to spread, weight becoming evenly distributed amongst her bodice for balance. Each digit would drive into the loamy soil for grip, and her glorious plume would rise to align with her bodice as a rudder and for balance, but should the siren go right away for her tail, she would tuck it between her legs, hopefully to reduce the grip she could gain. The siren { synder } allowed the Armada the first move, eager to see how the sinful lineage fought. The graced canine moved toward the siren at a jog, a confusing aspect for the siren, but nonetheless a preparation for an assault. Cyan eyes were locked on the tempest, striving to move to the left in attempt to place her own self at a similar angle, so they could be coming side to side, a true battle of skill and might. Ambitiously close hung the Armada's unhinged jaws, seeking what she claimed to be her prize -- the glorious white plume that trailed behind the tempest. She { Synder } allows the oddity to launch herself forth, and feels the sharp pang of her right shoulder blade, but in her movements, it was not her only attack. Already she could feel bruising, but adrenaline lulled her onward to live out the tactics this sinful creature displayed. The graceful siren would allow her skull to hunt toward her left side, seeking the tail she desired, her spine extending to grip her tail. The russet goddess would take a step backward, feeling the fangs of her opposition sink into her flesh, a bite wound about one inch deep. The siren had paid little mind to this wound, calculating her next move and tightening her skin to aid in reducing scarring, which had already begun to occur along her spine from the bitch dragging her teeth along it. A cracking noise would sound in her ears, but she had no time for weakness to show to the Armada. She was an Adravendi at blood -- but a lion at heart. Cyan eyes were dulled slightly, but little did that stop the angel from continuing the battle the fool had engaged. Swiftly she would move downward, hopefully allowing herself to break away from the gazelle, a booming step heard in her ears where her right hind paw had been, and to return the favor, she would attempt to stomp her own paw she had attempted to stomp her toes with, right smack-dab on the front right toes. In a quick motion, her paw would return to it's resting place as the siren would begin her assault to counter the damage the gazelle had attempted to give. To her own right stood the gazelle, her amber gems having locked onto the bitch, and her movements likely could be obvious, though the siren { Synder } could attempt to make her attacks subtle. For her tail, the bitch could live with a severed Achilles' Tendon. At her position, and for the size difference, it could be an easy maim -- and so very worth her time. Her banner would tuck between her legs should the bitch try to hunt for it once more, whilst the russet tempest would reestablish her balanced weight. Mandibles would become unhinged, seeking the blood of the gazelle. Moments before her attempts at rupturing the gazelle's Achilles Tendon, she would elevate her body, having allowed all of her power to localize at her haunches to bring her upper half skyward. Her right foreleg would attempt to wrap about the rear of the Armada, to hopefully aid in disallowing her to move at the right moment, and to do some damage to the bitch. Her left paw would rise, her weight all upon her haunches to aggressively lock down on the right hind paw of the gazelle, and to use her free shoulder blade to drive it into the section between her upper right hindquarters and final right ribcage, to send pain to the bitch and a warning of who was boss. Even if it should be successful or not, the siren would allow her right foreleg to recede from the bitch, to place soundly next to her left paw that had sought out the bitch's hind paw, her bodice rotating at about a ninety degree axis to create a right angle with herself and the bitch, hopefully. Unhinged mandibles hunted for the tendon she wished to rupture, and to shred. Her crown was pointed directly at the tendon, cyan gems hungry for the sensation of the Armada screaming for mercy. Quickly her skull would shoot forward, fangs bared in the direction of the tendon, in attempt to lock upon solely the muscle. If her attack could even be successful, she would bite down hard on the target, moving her cranium from side to side, in hopes of tearing the tendon from the bitch's right leg. Soundly she would replace her left paw with her right, and allow her left to seek the opposite side of the stilt she had attempted to bring into her grasp, in hopes of keeping the bitch in place long enough to rupture her Achilles Tendon and cause her much pain later in life. SYNDER ADRAVENDI v SATIS ARMADA for MAIM to SEVER ACHILLES TENDON ONE

OOC: Sorry for such a long-ass post. XD I got really into it and it just... became really long. XD 1222 words, yo. * dies * Hopefully I did well. XD. I feel bad for whatever judge has to read this and judge it. XD

Skype me for questions <3 I leave this afternoon and will be back sunday, but I'll have my iPad if you have questions, i just may not be the quickest to respond.

The fight continued, each titan searching for the upper hand to end the other. Fights began to break out left and right, blood staining the earth. It seemed that when heads threatened to roll, everyone wanted a little taste of blood. She, however, was content to stand on sidelines and merely observe, she had no reason to jump into the bloodshed, they had nothing she wanted or craved. Fate had other ideas. A snarl would fill her ears, snapping her gaze from the fight to a familiar scarred visage. Lips would peel back to reveal ivory daggers as her opponent settled into defenses. Did nothing satisfy the pale bitch? The sounds of battle fell away and she refocused her attention of her adversary. It seemed that she would not go unscathed today, she was forced into battle whether or not she wanted it. But as the realization of her opponent settled in, she would allow herself to be lost, and allowed a darker, more carnal need to take over. Her own defenses settled to mimic her adversary. Eyes would narrow to slits, tattered ears pinned against her skull, thick hackles bristled as powerful shoulders scrunched to add an extra layer of fat and fur around her neck. Her crown would lower to align with her spine as her chin tucked against her throat to protect vitals. Russet plume would straighten with her spine, ready to act as a rudder. Limbs would set themselves equidistant and knees would bend to better her balance and lower her center of gravity. With toes splayed, claws dug into the blood soaked earth and her abdominal muscles tensed, bracing for impact. Her opponent would shoot forward without a word. It seemed she was out for blood this time rather than to just steal a crown. The russet woman would remain at a stand still, spreading her hind legs just a few inches wider, and her right forelimb would bend slightly so that she was leaning away from her opponent, this would aid her in moving with and away from Art so that she didn?t fall over, this movement would also bring her height a few inches lower, to about Arts level. The collision came with painful force, a heavy bruise immediately flaring across her ribs and momentarily knocking the wind from her lungs, and while her ribs would be sore, no bones where broken. Front limbs would begin moving immediately, pivoting her front end in a quarter circle to her right, away from her adversary. She hoped that this movement and Arts momentum would bring them a shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip position with the little tyrant on her life side. As soon as they collided, despite her movement, pale jaws would flash in her line of vision, aimed directly for her eye. She would duck her crown immediately, further lowering her height as she had not yet risen back up to her full height, neck twisting to her own left so that jaws where aimed at the right side of Arts throat. Because Art had tilted her jaws to her own left, the russet Queen aimed to grab a hold of the upper right portion of her enemies throat, and thought it would please her greatly to end her pale adversaries life, any sort of hold would be enough. The pale wenches jaws would bounce off her forehead, leaving behind only a light bruise due to momentum. Simultaneously, her left paw would leave the safety of the ground, her right limb remaining bent to keep her height low and her balance adjusting to her remaining three legs, she would attempt to slam her paw down on Arts right toes, immediately bringing the appendage back to the safety of the ground, hoping to break toes or at least cause enough damage for her to be slowed down. As soon as her paw is back on the ground, whether or not she landed on Arts toes, she throws her weight into Art as much as possible, hoping to possibly upset her balance in some way. All the while, her defenses remained in tact as much as possible, she did not want to be bested by the overgrown child again. SIBELLE vs ARTEMIS for PARTIAL BLINDING/DOMINANCE : Round 1 of 3 ATTACKS: hind legs would spread a few inches wider, her right leg bending deeper than her left so that she is leaning away from Art slightly and thus lowering her height. When Art collides with her side, she uses the momentum of the collision to move to her right in about a quarter circle to her own right in an attempt to get them shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Since Art is trying to grab her face as soon as they collide, Sib is lowering her head, and craning her neck and turning her head to the left, so that her jaws are aiming at Arts throat. She is using the fact that Art tipped her jaws to her own left, and is trying to grab a hold of the right side of Arts throat. Simultaneously, her left paw would lift and attempt to slam down on Arts right toes, wanting to break them or cause her enough pain to slow down. Once her paw is back on the ground, whether or not she successfully lands on Arts foot, she throws her weight into Art as much as possible, hoping to disrupt her balance as much as possible DEFENSES: eyes narrowed, ears pinned, hackles lifted, shoulders scrunched, skull lowered with spin, chin tucked, tail flagged, legs spread equidistant and bent at the joint, toes splayed, claws digging into the ground, abdominal muscles tensed INJURIES: heavy bruising across her ribcage, momentarily loss of breath from impact. light bruising her to her forehead. OOC- not sure Sib will ever be in a position to blind her, so it may just end up as dominance, unless you are cool with any sort of maim? I don?t mind as Art did try to break her jaw XD just let me know. Speech,

image copyrighted to Lakela on dA

PM'd Croa to give her a chance to respond before my post so it wouldn't as heavy PP but mixed with no response and others saying that she's "disappeared" (? o:), I'll go ahead with this.

No response found her ears and she accepted it as submission, sweeping forward without pause, without conscience. Front legs would lift from the ground as the celestial phoenix leapt upon the youth, pinning her swiftly from her perpendicular position and wrenching the bitch's jaws brutally apart with her paws. A fleeting ounce of conscience flashed forward and her eyes flashed with memories of better times. When this would have been unacceptable--unthinkable.



But things were different now. Alacritia, the land she'd been born in, had been invaded and ruined and weakened with watered-down blood until their identities did not matter to Jupiter anymore. She'd once been able to respect the wolves that had migrated here and had their families and thrived but it had all deteriorated. They were all insignificant scoundrels, undeserving in a land that could give them everything and yet they were all too afraid to take it.



Jaws clamped down on the writhing muscle and with one harsh, jerking pull, she lunged backwards, spitting out the appendage quickly with disgust. Lip curled and salmon tongue snaked out to clean the blood that had sprayed so quickly upon her muzzle. Hackles raising, celestial eyes glanced around, daring any to challenge her. Others were fighting for dominance while she had taken the tongue of an insolent youth.



Something inside of her echoed disappointment. Though quickly silenced, it was given audience briefly and an answer echoed in her conscience. A monster.

"speech"

OOC: [OOC:Much thanks to yumpy. I had a serious life issue come up. It was handled :) Yumpy you?re fabulous. And I?ll make sure my next post is pretty damn near close to right after you post that way we can get this over with. Again, apologies, and thank you. ]





Isardis was a grand fighter. His technique was seemingly flawless and his movements were fluid and quick. He was the perfect battle partner for the red king. He loved the edge and the risk of the fight. He loved the way they hungered for more from each other. They were ravenous creatures set on finding a life without their only worthy adversaries. Would their children endure the same? Would they feel inclined to hatred because of their lineage or would they find pride in standing apart? There was plenty of room for error in their future, but there was also plenty of room for success. Perhaps, they would stand together, perhaps they would be in the same position as Syrinx and Isardis. Regardless, Syrinx only expected loyalty of his blood. He did not expect their wounds to remain open and became bigger sources of anger. Of interference. There was much to be done.

Continue Fighting

His ears were pinned against his head and his jaws were parted. Eyes were narrowed in on Isardis?s face and his body was in perfect alignment. paws clenched the earth seeking traction and his tail was out to assist balance and act as a counterweight. Weight was distributed evenly between three grounded limbs and his back legs were parted and sprawled to create a better base. with his muscles tightened and his chin tucked as best as he could dare to do so he would be sure to keep his shoulders rolled forward to assist protecting his neck and he would also remember to keep his head itself slightly lowered towards his own chest. Much was left to be done.

Syrinx could feel his teeth lightly take purchase in Isardis?s face, however, he knew it wasn?t enough to do much damage besides maybe pester isardis. Syrinx could also feel Isardis?s shoulder ram into his, however, the placement was different. The position that Isardis took was almost in Syrinx?s armpit and elicit a pained snarl to rise from his throat. He could hear the pop of his left shoulder over his own rage and immediately he knew there would be no weight to be put on the limb. His response was swift and he would throw all of his weight evenly onto his back legs. Using the muscles of his rear legs he would attempt to hoist the limb up and wrap it around Isardis?s neck or at least throw the left limb over Isardis?s right since it would be directly in front of him.

Still head on with Isardis; Syrinx would release the grip he had taken on Isardis?s left ankle and he would take to the same motions: Hoisting his body upwards and attempting to wrap his right limb around the left side of Isardis?s neck or at least get it draped over Isardis?s left shoulder. He was now standing. regardless, however, of being allowed to rest his weight on Isardis and attack him more from above, Syrinx would still rear into the air trying to alleviate the stress of the weight on his dislocated limb.

Isardis was not as simply as one would think, however, Syrinx could feel Isardis?s face seem to tilt upwards and before he was overly aware he could feel teeth begin to penetrate a bit of the fat around his neck. A pinch around his left jugular would alert Syrixn to pull his head backwards. Isardis would be allowed precisely a centimeter deep into the left side of his neck, however, the length of what he had managed to gather in his mouth would leave laceration approximately 2 inches long. Given that, this side of his body was mostly burned and killed there was not an excessive amount of responsiveness to the tearing flesh. The deadened and burned skin did not acknowledge the tear or the blood that pooled to the surface and lightly fell. The damage was moderate, however, unnoticeable to him, and the blood loss was minimal.


Syrinx would begin his own attacks. They would be simple, however, direct. His head would sharply turn to the left and he would look completely downwards. Jaws would part and Syrinx would aim to bite across the entirety of Isardis?s skull. His top set would attempt to snap beside Isardis?s right ear and his bottom set beside Isardis?s left. Regarless of finding purchase he would snap his teeth together and his entire point was clear. Syrinx was attempting to sever the pretty boy?s ears he wanted to destroy his appearance. Even if he walked away alive Syrinx would pray that the Aramadan king was u g l y.

Simultaneously, Syrinx would hope that his attempt at grasping Isardis was successful, though regardless of failure or success, he would torque his own body to the left (so with his action weight could be moved to his right front limb should he end up on the ground again) His torque was an attempt to make Isardis?s weight distribution unsteady and knock his balance off. If he could get the king to merely fall beneath him Syrinx wouldn?t need to move much any longer. He could destroy him from above, yes? A slight hope grew in his chest. He was capable of this, more than, but he was prepared, because so far, the damage to his shoulder was next to lethal. It gave Isardis an uppernhand that he didn?t necessarily need. It would be his downfall should he lose this day.

Syrinx vs. Isardis
for death
one TWO three

She would arrive late to the challenge, with a large load of herbs wrapped up in grass and leaves gripped firmly in her jaws. It had taken her a while to gather this much on short notice. After the demonic angel had claimed her from Abaven she had silently went off to explore her new home. To learn the land and where the best herbs had and would grow. And then she had to find the right place to make her own den, somewhere in the middle of everyone else but close to where her plants she needed where close by. It was a lot of work, much so that she hadn't even seen who really was all in the pack besides Isar and her. Though she didn't mind it, she had work to do and it needed to get done as fast as possible. Knowing her father, fights were always right around the corner. But as the howl went up for a challenge a shiver ran down her spine. This was no normal challenge to the prime white warlord. There was history and a more deadly intent. She had to race and sneak into Abaven to collect her herbs she had gathered in her time there, undetected. And in stealth she would succeed in her goal. The detour had left her well behind the gathering of those that would show to the fight. But time was not a problem for her, she would arrive with tail high waving like a banner, head lifted up and amber eyes gleaming. So many wolves and many already engaged in their own little fights. Thankfully she had brought so many herbs with her, it looked like she would be tending to more than just her father. She could see family there, allies and ghosts of memories and stories told to her. So many there, so much blood. A shiver raced through her but not in fear. No the voices of those fighting the clashing of bodies and fur and blood everywhere excited her. one day she would be in a fight, and win each one. She was no fool to start picking fights when she knew her skills still needed to be refined and perfected. Why waste her time in a hopeless fight if she was going to lose? Oh no, when her time came she would enter this battlefield with confidence she would win and rule. For now though her focus would be on hat of her father and the russet man. Slight surprise froze her in seeing the russet man's lower jaw was exposed as just bone, no flesh. How had that happen? How long had he lived like that? Questions boiled up in her, she needed to know. All purely in needing to know if she had future packmates with similar wounds, how to care for them in knowing they could live on in such a state. She would find herself a spot, in safety of the clashing wolves but with the main pair in her full site. Her amber eyes glowed as she assessed the damage already done. And though she had never doubted her father in a fight before, this one felt different. It made her stomach clench painfully and her eyes sought those that where family. If the fonder of so many died what would become of them? Would they flicker out in the abyss of the ebony night sky? Or would they flame up to engulf the darkness and blind those before them?

Left shoulder comes to contact almost with its target in a satisfying clash upon Syrinx? left frontal armpit region, braced chest muscles absorbing the shock of the force; attaining perhaps no more than very minor bruising upon the blade of his jutted left shoulder, merit to a somewhat successful counteract. Immediately his left shoulder rolls back to its defensive, scrunching position, chest muscles relaxing to re-allow ease of movement as chin tucks tight against his throat, cherry towers becoming seamless against the tapers of his skull as ruby gaze remains defensively narrowed. Paws still splay atop rocky loam as claws dig for toehold, centre of gravity somewhat lowered as joints bend into a position of shock absorption, hackles bristling with overwhelming rage as spine remains aligned with his level tail and balance remains equalised upon squared limbs. Abdomen tightens to strengthen his core and ghoulish jaws remain unhinged and imposing.

Isardis had seemingly succeeded in finding the flesh of Syrinx?s left throat; however the jugular went tragically unscathed as it lay dormant beneath a protective layer of fat. Isardis had previously shifted his position leftward to prevent face-to-face access, though through whatever unrecognised circumstances it seemed Syrinx would assault him now from an undesirable frontal position yet again. Regardless, the red fiend?s next course of action is unexpected; his left forearm wrapping over the right upper shoulders of the pallid ghoul, with his right forelimb following suit shortly after in a successful leverage (under his throat and-) over his left side neck-base. Unfortunately Isardis? previous efforts to crush toes would therefore go unrequited and dreadfully unrewarded; but he was not wavered then and would not be now.

Spine grows rigid and unyielding; the muscles through his shoulders and neck tensing as his nape strives to lift and crane back towards his own wither, interlocking with his aligned spine in a cunningly masquerading effort to offer Syrinx grapple behind his nape. He is deceiving, shrewd, his wits flourishing and his calculation falling second to few; for a man who is so easily demented by rage, Isardis now plots his enemies termination as though it is his living purpose, his avid motor drive ? and perhaps today, it is.

With brutal temptation the icy fiend will hope to swiftly take a single, moderately distanced rightwards step with his right hind limb in a brief endeavour to obliterate the duo?s front-on placement, his left hind scuffling instantaneously after it?s departed companion. Rear hocks bend more-so as muscles begin to coil upon the attraction of his next assault - however he falters upon his own infuriated yelp! Syrinx?s obscured upper jaw had found contact behind his right ear and skull, his lower jaw piercing through the lobe of his left ear. Justifiably, it was the latter that had encouraged forth such a wail of exasperated shock, as the lower canines raked through the right side of his shuddering left tower with chilling ease; tearing the cartilage an estimated three centimetres or more inwards from the outer edge and threatening to pull it entirely from its base. Syrinx? upper jaw had failed to match his lower, barely scathing a minor distance atop rosy skin.

Fuelled by a newly birthed wrath, Isardis attempts to shy his skull to his own left and wrench his ear and nape from any hold Syrinx may have managed to maintain. It is virtually in a similar moment that Syrinx seems to tip his weight to his left, Isardis? balance is threatened by the crimson?s leverage, forcing his toes to further splay, however the youths sideways tip also appeals to an impending attack. Having earlier sought to allow Syrinx further purchase upon his nape with his forelimbs, the beast remains rigid in the hopefully maintained pose; and too cautious to lift his toes, the pallid King hopes to slide his four limbs backwards against the gravel a single stride in the motioned endeavour to angle Syrinx?s upright standing position into a stance he could possibly not maintain - hopeful the beast was dragged backwards with him due to his hugging grasp around Isardis? nape.

It is then Isardis will endeavour to lower his skull just to the left of his breast in a solitary motion, stiffening and hoping to create a streamlined framework from skull to neck to shoulders; ambitious that with his next faction his opposition would no longer be able to maintain his embrace. With his haunches slightly positioned to his own right and Syrinx?s weight tipping to his right also (Syr?s left), Isardis releases the corkscrew power that fumed within his bowed haunches; curling his hind toes to further amplify his driving force in the soil as he strives to rapidly close the small distance between them yet again. Having had previously sought to create detachment between them via his backwards shuffle, Isardis attempts to elevate his serrated right shoulder blade and drive it into the exposed right armpit of Syrinx, just above where the elbow joins the body. Having had hoped Syrinx remained embraced around his nape in such a small time period, Isardis craves to cause colossal damage to the youths underside right armpit sinew and render the beast with two useless forelimbs ? hell, he was not against the imposing prospect of another satisfying and cracking dislocation or fracture to the elbow or frontal shoulder region.

Crazed and captivated by the thrill of bloodied violence, it is with delicate timing that Isardis seeks to send his jaws gaping forwards, downwards and slightly right; though not wholly sure of where the ghoul now stands it is rational for him estimate the thrashing swine is reachable no matter if in front of him or still above him. He strives to crane his neck outwards (to his left) to compensate for his skulls attempted rotation towards Syrinx?s body, four limbs resecuring in balance against the rocky loam as previously elevated right shoulder returns to its defensively rolled position. He strives to clamp his jaws down in the tender fleshy regions behind Syrinx?s right elbow, ambitious to destroy the flimsy skin and shallow sinew that attached the elbow to his ribcage. He wants to ensure the monster is rendered lame on both front limbs. Right shoulder attempting to roll even more forwards and upwards in a further effort to protect the right side of his neck from his adversary during assault.


Isardis vs Syrinx ? Round 2 of 3!

FOR DEATH.
Attacks: Craning his neck upwards and interlocking his nape with his spine/shoulders in an effort to give Syrinx more leverage in his embrace. Sliding legs backwards a step in an attempt to drag Syrinx back with him to try and effect his balance and create distance between their chests. Lowering his head with his breast and slightly to his left, trying to create a streamlined frame from skull to shoulders in an effort to suddenly give Syrinx next to nothing to grasp onto upon his forwards thrust, of which he attempts to drive his right shoulder blade into the right armpit of Syr and cause extreme damage to muscle or dislocation; trying to render both his oppositions front limbs useless (with Syrs left already displaced). Finally he attempts to bite the muscle and flesh behind Syrs right elbow.

Injuries: Minor bruising on left shoulder blade from the collision with Syrinx's shoulder. Badly torn/mangled left ear cartilage, minor skin scathes behind right ear.

The call was foreign to him, never had he met his great uncle Syrinx, many of his family were in fact still rather unknown to the boy on both sides in fact. Of course he only cared for his mother's side, Roman perhaps was different to Isardis as well but the boy still wanted little to do with the Armadas. Today however he would be slightly intrigued. The summoning of Isardis for a death match. Who had the albino annoyed now, so much that one of them would soon be facing death? The latter thought was rather troubling, not because he would be sad to lose the father he'd never known, never cared to but simply the thought of death itself. All the same however the boy would be drawn towards the battlefield, that curiosity getting the better of him. There was no surprise to see the many Armada family members that had turned up, although aside from Isardis and Roman, Kismet couldn't name most of them and could only recognise those he'd seen during his imprisonment in Glaciem. What was more intriguing however was the fact that he wasn't the only Adravendi present. His mother would of course catch his attention first and the fact that she was currently battling another herself. It took him a moment to realise that this was his great Aunt, he had only seen her briefly once during a short meeting of the Adravendi family. Why were they fighting? His own hackles would raise as he moved closer towards them, the other fights, even the death match wouldn't catch his attention now as he watched two members of his family battling. He longed to put a stop to that. Before he could reach them however the pair would break apart, the fight over and it seemed his mother had won. He wouldn't be so easily calmed however and still wished to ensure that they wouldn't attempt a round two, not to mention he wanted to find out why they had begun to fight in the first place. He would move to his mother's side as he came to a stop. They'd both need their wounds attending to but he was no healer himself, wouldn't be able to help with that. For now the fight itself was still his interest. "What's happening?" He would enquire, mismatched gaze looking from from to the other.

The fight between Syrinx and Isardis was certainly one that was going to attract a fair amount of attention. Both males had rather large families and support from their years in Alacritia. It was perhaps purely that this was a death match that was drawing in the most attention. It was in fact the very same reason that Talvi had chosen to attend. She had been informed of the fact that Isardis was a skilled fighter, perhaps even if it had been a simple spar the girl should have attended though she had mixed feelings about her grandfather right now. She still had yet to tell anyone else about this new revelation, the knowledge of her heritage. Though she'd never done anything to warrant any anger from Isardis, she couldn't help but feel a little wary after learning what he had done to his son. Athena wasn't overly pleased with him at the moment either, and to be honest knowing what she did, she couldn't help but wonder if he had any sort of punishment in store for Bevroren now. He could die today. That single revelation was enough for her to drop any fears and make her way to the battlefield. No it wasn't to watch some display of fighting skills, it was purely to support the man. No matter how he had been known to react to things, Isardis had been good to Talvi and her siblings. They had been welcomed into the pack as Bloods growing up amongst his children. Perhaps she would have even had the chance to get to know him better had he not been so ill for a while, she knew back then she would have liked the opportunity and even now she wished that she'd had the chance. The fight was already in progress as she arrived, in fact a number of them seemed to be breaking out around her. Blue gaze sought to find Isardis and his opponent however, glad to find that the albino was still alive. The other man was a stranger to her, though it was difficult to get a good look, the male's appearance was surely one that she would have recalled. What troubles had he been through to earned such scars and marks upon him? She hoped he would earn his last today, not just another mar to his already damaged looks, but one serious enough to end his life. One would have to die today, and Talvi was rooting for Isardis to live.

Synder v Satis for Maim Round 1 Satis: 8 for clarity- -2 I don't find it believable that Satis could throw her right shoulder in an attack while also lifting that paw in another attack. I opted to put this in clarity since I'm not sure if it was just an order issue. Trying to step on the paw then throwing the shoulder would probably have been fine though it might have lessened the force. 10 for powerplaying. none seen, previous error corrected 4/17/14 at 10:45 pm central time by lunarcat7 7 for defenses. +1 for each seen -3 for not readjusting balance among remaining three legs upon lifting her right forepaw 10 for attack. +4 shoulder attack (+1 for severity) +4 jaw attack (+1 for maim attempt) +2 paw attack (-1 for clarity) Good work, very nice! 10 for injuries. first round Round one Total: 45 Synder: 0 for clarity- -2 how's she moving to the left? twisting? side-stepping? -2 how far to the left? I'm assuming she's now facing Satis head on but you need to specify -2 how much damage was done from Satis to Synder's tail? you say cracking, did it break? I also find it unbelievable that she could simply shake off a broken bone like that -2 which paw is she attempting to slam on Satis? again you have to specify we can't assume -2 how's she moving downward? are her legs coiling suddenly is she diving forward and down? ((specifics strike again! xD)) -2 what does she hope to accomplish by slamming her paw on Satis in the second paw attack? -2 where on Satis' rear is she attempting to drape the leg? -2 in which leg is the tendon in she's going for? 4 for powerplaying. -2 you say she sets the paw down after lifting it this assumes that her attack was successful. -2 too much movement you attack her paw and then attack it again? Give your opponent time to respond to the first attack before launching a second on the same target -2 "crown point directly at tendon" this needs to be an attempt 7 for defenses.+1 for each seen -3 not readjusting balance to other three legs after raising paw 5 for attack. +2 first paw attack (-1 clarity issue) +0 foreleg around rear (I really don't see how this would do damage) +1 second paw attack (points deducted for clarity and pp) +1 shoulder attack (points deducted for realism. I don't see how she can get her shoulder down to slam into Satis when she's trying to raise her self up with her foreleg over Satis +1 bite (points deducted for pp and clarity) 10 for injuries. first round Round one Total: 26 Totals: Satis: 45/50 Synder: 26/50 And the winner is... Satis! Snyder must give up by either submitting, fleeing, or passing out. Snyder has also lost her tail. I'll leave it up to you guys to decide if Satis amputates it completely or it falls off later from the injury. Damage: Feels weird doing this for a 1 round fight as Yumpy hasn't had a chance to state damage. Minor bruising and lacerations will heal in a couple of ooc days. Moderate wounds a week ooc, severe probably 2 weeks. As this was a maim fight though Synder looses her tail as stated above. Notes: Pretty much everything I want to say is stated above in the notes for each round. Only thing to add is for Starry. Keep an eye on over using pronouns and synonyms. You refer to both Satis and Synder multiple times as "her" and "siren". I had to read through several times to make sure I understood who you were referring to. Try using their actual names more often. I didn't deduct for this but there are others that might. Keep working on your clarity score as well! In some cases it's better to focus on fewer and simpler attacks til you get the hang of clarity as clarity bugs can kill your attack score to. Thanks guys! - By [Lunarcat7]

skype for questions! i'm probably online even when it says im not lol.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? it is evident that her russet adversary has been made aware of the oncoming onslaught -- avid pupils traversing the pawn?s slightly-larger physique as the woman settles into a defensive stance, yet makes no movement to straighten out the perpendicular angle created between their bodies until the moment of collision. right shoulder blade successfully strikes her opponent?s left-sided rib-cage; however, the tyrant queen is aggravated to know that despite her momentum and heavy weight, the force of impact had been too weak to even fracture her adversary?s ribs as had been her brutal intentions. the force of impact, however, is intense enough to cause light bruising to blossom upon the front of her own right shoulder, but it is only a minor inconvenience that the phantom can easily disregard as adrenaline continues to course through her veins -- an intoxicating sensation that further fuels the bloodlust that wracks her twisted mind. similarly, the phantom is unsuccessful in her endeavor of piercing the woman?s left eye, and is left unsated as her jaws merely bounce off of sibelle?s forehead -- incisors failing to make even the slightest incision upon her opponent?s flesh. her opponent would pivot to the right until they were nearly parallel to one another -- sibelle?s left side adjacent to her own right, with the russet wraith slightly ahead of her in terms of positioning. and yet, artemis had no intentions of maintaining their parallel positioning, and would immediately seek to swing her own hips out and to her own left in hopes of bringing her body perpendicular to the center portion of sibelle?s left-sided rib-cage. with this movement, sibelle?s jaws would successfully rake down the upper portion of her own right-sided neck, creating moderate lacerations of about a quarter of an inch in depth and two inches in length into the scrunched flesh haloing her jugular, though no grip is obtained due to the tyrant?s movements away from her adversary?s jaws. her own left forepaw meets the safety of the earth after having been ignored, reinstating her balance upon all fours as opposed to three in preparation for the oncoming assault. however, as the tyrant notices her adversary lifting her { sib's } left forepaw in hopes of crushing her front right toes, artemis attempts to move the forepaw entirely out of harm?s way -- lifting the right forepaw now and attempting to hook it around the back of sibelle?s left forelimb { hopefully located towards the exact center of the limb } where she will attempt to yet again pull the limb back towards herself in hopes of upsetting sibelle?s balance, weight meanwhile shifting evenly between her three grounded limbs in hopes of maintaining her own balance. because of the tyrant?s movements away from the pawn, as the russet woman would attempt to throw the entirety of her weight into artemis? right side, it would only be the outside of the phantom?s right shoulder that would receive the brunt of the attack, and another bruise would bloom across her pale flesh to worsen the bruise upon her right shoulder until it was a considerably moderate bruise, and the abrupt force of impact would also force the phantom to step backwards just slightly. jaws that had previously failed to pierce skin would then tilt horizontally to her own left, hoping to strike low as she attempts to wrap her jaws around the upper portion of sibelle?s left forelimb -- mandible seeking to dismantle the left elbow of her adversary while her upper jaw seeks to clamp down upon the front of sibelle?s left elbow joint. she intends to break the targeted bone with the pressure applied behind her hopeful bite, seeking to complicate the movement of her adversary as best she can. all the while, her defenses are maintained to the best of her ability: her skull lowered considerably over her breast and in alignment with the remainder of her spinal cord, tail streamlined in similar alignment, and abdominal muscles tensed to tighten her core. shoulders are rolled forward and neck is scrunched to safeguard her jugular in protective layers of excess flesh and fat, hackles raised along the length of her spine, eyes narrowed, and ears pinned tightly to her lowered crown. limbs are spaced equidistant apart and bent slightly at the joints to lower her center of gravity, weight distributed evenly among each grounded appendage, and her toes are splayed as her nails grip into the earth to maintain traction. jaws are left slackened and her chin is tucked as best it can be to the curvature of her neck { though such is difficult as she horizontally tilts her skull }, blackened lips peeled back to unsheathe untainted incisors that urge for usage. but even in the heat of battle, the tyrant queen can only hope for the negligent red whore to dare show her face -- to dare witness the vendetta artemis unleashes upon her poor pawn. ARTEMIS vs SIBELLE for LEFT EYE TWO of THREE attacks -- hips pivoting to her own left in an attempt to maintain perpendicular positioning. jaws seeking sibelle's left elbow, intending to crush the bone with the pressure of her attempted bite. right forelimb attempting to wrap about the back of sibelle's left forelimb, located towards the center of the forelimb, and hoping to pull it back towards herself with the intentions of upsetting sibelle's balance. injuries -- moderate bruising to right shoulder, quarter-inch deep and two-inch-long lacerations to the scrunched flesh upon her upper right-sided neck { no grip obtained }. full dodge of sibelle's paw. notes -- it was confirmed by saf that, during the time frame where sib and art are parallel to one another, sib is slightly ahead of art in terms of positioning. not that it really matters with art moving away but i mentioned it in my post and don't want to get docked in pp for it xD table by lu.

Shoulders were rolled forward to encumber is neck in fur, flesh, and fat. His hind limbs were evenly spread with toes splayed and his knees bent ever so slightly to keep him decently balanced. His jaw was lightly tucked and lips were parted. Eyes were narrowed in on his opponent and his spine was in perfect alignment. Muscles were tightened to keep him sturdy and his ears were rolled back on top of his head. He needed to slay. He needed to end. syrinx was tired of the war and would put the last of his strength (despite the pain and exhaustion) into his final blows.Still, Syrinx is aware that he is not the only one fighting for his life.

Syrinx could feel the shift of power in his opponents stance. he could feel the force of Isardis pressing against him and immediately he would let himself re-adust. steps would be taken to find some sort of balance and his limbs would tighten in an attempt to keep himself close to the Indarran king. However, Isardis would push against syrinx's right side and he would attempt to snap into Syrinx's flesh. The movement of his limbs in an attempt to tighten around Isardis's neck would make it so isardis's teeth only grabbed the edge of the flesh near his elbow, however, the tender spot would bleed heavily with a 1 inch deep cut that was barely a centimetre long. it were as though a violent nip had come to him.

Syrinx would not be able to handle his pressure with his wounded limb and he would feel his positioning change. He would feel his weight falter and he would feel gravity begin to turn him backwards. However, he would attempt to take Isardis with him. Syrinx would attempt to thrust his right shoulder slightly towards his own left in an attempt to smash it into Isardis's face and stun him. The he would attempt to grab Isardis's neck in his teeth. Syrinx would attempt to make to snap in the same motion he had previously used on Isardis's ears, simply aim farther down, and grasp deep into Isardis's fur. He wanted to keep his teeth near Isardis's neck so that, even while he was falling, he could hopefully pull the demon king with him and still have chance at destroying him.

Syrinx could feel his body roll against the ground. His head kept tucked forward so that he would not hit it on the ground, but his position was simple. He was flat on his back with three limbs in the air. His dislocated left limb would be closer to his body and a sharp pain surged through him. His focus, however, would not rely on him, but his opponent.