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Post by Mallory on Apr 1, 2013 14:35:38 GMT -5
[/color][/font][/center][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=height,500,true][atrb=float,left,true][atrb=style, background:#FFE87C; padding: 0px; border: 3px solid #000000; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 5px;][style=height: 300px; width:430px; margin-left: 15px; margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-right: 15px; font-family: Tahoma; color: black; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; background-color: #FFE87C; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 10px; -opacity: 0.75;] This time, things were very different. Sure, the mare’s environment hadn’t changed much since her last duel here. The arena was still unchanged from the events from the days before and eerily quiet despite the blood and carnage that had happened recently. The mare grimaced slightly, knowing all too well her own blood now mingled with the damp sand. A rain storm had come through during her resting period, but it could not wash away the stench of blood and sweat; it could not remove the heavy blanket of an unpleasant fragrance that clung to the very stonework of the arena. Despite its grandeur and illustrious appearance, Alyse was now very aware of what evil lurked underneath the attractive façade. No matter how irresistible the arena looked to the crowd, the golden mare knew exactly what the shadows held and the nightmares that plagued the warriors who exited the arena with their lives.
Alyse knew that this round would be her last, regardless of whether or not she lived or died. She would have to redeem herself of her loss from the first round. She had come close to winning, or so it was said, but Alyse felt as though it was the worst loss she had yet to deal with. Her ego had been battered and bruised – her skills had been questioned. Now she knew better and knew what to expect, to an extent. This new opponent was an enigma, for now. But at least she had a better understanding as to how this worked, and now knew better than to leave her mind so unguarded. She would not let herself succumb to panic and madness. Not again.
She entered the arena with less cockiness than her previous appearance. She had let her ego get the better of her and oh boy, did she know it. No, this time the golden and red mare knew much better than to let her pride get the better of her. She still strode in with a confident swagger, but hide behind a well composed mask of neutrality. There would be no teasing, crooked grins to tease the mares who screamed her name and no over the top displays of her person. No, this time, Alyse waited patiently while reflecting upon herself and the possible outcomes of this fight. She knew better than to pace and fidget, like before. She had acted like a fool; a young, naïve fool who knew hardly enough to be qualified for such an honor as the games. But now she knew better, and the evidence was still very apparent upon her golden body. The puckered, angry looking pink slash of tender skin was raised like an ugly ridge across her right flank – evidence of her brush with the gladiator of Selisona. Despite the healer she had found during her resting period, she would be left with the scar and significant repercussions because of its severity. It was the price she paid for being too full of herself. The price she paid for acting like a downright fool for letting panic seize her with locked jaws and shake her like a sickly newborn foal.
Alyse knew that her right leg would have to be something she would have to be wary about now, and even far into the future. Her main concern was how the injury would affect her ability to fight. A numb sensation often plagued her after long bouts of physical activity, or after one of her rare periods of sleep. How would she fair in another fight, when she could barely stand to do border patrol in Thalmic without taking to the sky and allowing her leg to rest? A slight, almost indiscernible grimace ghosted across her face at the implications before she shook her head. Ignoring the dirty blonde strands of her forelock that fell across her amber eyes, the mare glanced around the crowd. She knew better than to expect anyone she knew to cheer for her. Allowing her dark eyes to drag themselves to the only entrance into the fighting grounds of the arena, Alyse inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly.
And now it was just a waiting game to see who her opponent was.
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tagged: Sephiroth
status: Complete
words: Enough
notes: Kinda rambly...
- Attack [0/5]
- Defense [0/2]
- Injuries:
-
"Alyse Speech"
Alyse thoughts! [/font][/color][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 2, 2013 23:52:11 GMT -5
 [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=background,http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n87/Bai_MeiEr/tables/sep-02.png,true][atrb=style, background-image:url('http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n87/Bai_MeiEr/tables/sep-03.png'); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom; padding:0px 60px 0px 60px; text-align:justify;]» Defeat was a sour taste in his mouth, a bitter pill that he could not - would not - swallow for quite some time. Sephiroth was not a sore loser, no - after the results and the winner had been announced, he'd reined himself in and backed off with as much dignity and grace as was due a gladiator of his station, regardless of his deep, abiding lust to continue on and keep making the Loxacin stallion's life a living hell. The judges' decision was absolute, and he would not disgrace himself by whining and throwing a tantrum like an impudent child. But that still didn't mean he had to be happy about it. No, the rage boiled and seethed beneath every inch of his skin, an unbearable gnawing at his insides that threatened to eat him whole every time he thought about it. He, Sephiroth, the infamous mercenary, the Demon - defeated! by some Illusionist from Loxacin whose name he didn't even bother to remember. Adelaide and all of Aeon would scoff at him and call him a braggart, putting on airs that he hadn't lived up to; he would never live it down. His pride bristled and burned at the very thought. Who had made the grand decision that he had lost, anyways? Was it just because he'd failed to catch himself in time when he'd been teleported out of the air, and took a tumble in the dust? Did they not see the burns that littered his opponent's hide despite his hiding behind that charm of his? Did they overlook the fact that white rib bones were peeking out from his charred and bloodied sides? Well, that was all in hindsight now. He would have to take the humiliating blow of defeat and salvage his position and standing in the eyes of Aeon now, and there was still one way he could redeem himself, by emerging the victor in this next match-up (and, perhaps at a future time, challenging that Loxacin gladiator again and defeating him). Whoever this Thalmic champion was, they would be bearing the full brunt of Sephiroth's fury at having suffered defeat earlier.
» He did not canter restlessly about anymore; he simply paced into the arena, crowned head held high and steps deliberate. The obvious reason for this was the fact that he still walked with a slight limp on his left foreleg and right hind, more pronounced on the foreleg. Despite having had his injuries treated by the Gascti healer (and to add insult to injury, the bitch had gone and healed his opponent too! Had she forgotten that Gascti and Loxacin were enemies?!) the muscle had been torn badly from the fight, and would not recover completely for quite some time, if at all. The other fact was that his anger was much more internalized this time, festering quietly in his breast while he paced in with haughty dignity. He would not give the jeering crowds the satisfaction of seeing him scream and roar and attack everything in sight like the barbarian he longed to become. That was the one thing that would crush his already-damaged reputation into the dust for good. Rather, he would let that rage build up inside, focus it on his new opponent, and give the crowds something to remember by tearing into the unfortunate soul with blinding, unprecedented ferocity. The spectators loved bloodshed, after all, even more than they loved to mock the losers.
» His new opponent was here already. Feline green eyes and their thin slit pupils locked on the gold and black figure standing in the center of the massive ring, already watching him and his arrival. Gladiator of Thalmic... He was a thin and slender thing, rather delicate and girlish-looking next to the nightmarish silhouette of the scarlet Demon walking in to meet him. He, too, sported wings on his back, albeit of the feathered avian variety, leading Sephiroth to briefly consider the possibility of an aerial battle, with curling red patterns decorating his body, and elegant features - at that the Gascti stallion paused for a moment with narrowed eyes, realizing abruptly that 'he' was, in fact, a she. "Thalmic sent a mare as its champion?" he asked bluntly, deep rumbling voice doing nothing to hide the rather callous directness of the question. He wasn't even being condescending or sarcastic, as he was definitely not in the mood to play word games or taunt his opponent for amusement today, but it was undeniable that he found the situation a bit bizarre. The simple truth was that mares just made worse fighters than stallions - in his opinion, at any rate. What had the Thalmic Chief been thinking? Surely he couldn't have been expecting her opponents to take it easy on her just because she was a female, because if he had, he was the greatest idiot to ever walk this earth. Clearly hadn't worked in her last fight, at any rate, and Sephiroth had no plans to give her an easy time of it this time either. "Beating up girls is hardly my idea of a fight. But if you insist." Unfurling his massive wings, the crimson stallion readied himself for the coming battle without further ado, watching her closely while letting the burning magic well up inside and warm his breast with its fire. He would let her make the first move - perhaps he could take a leaf out of the Loxacin stallion's book this time, and let her show her aces first. Besides, he wanted to see her move, see just how much her previous injuries had lamed her, see if she would reveal some magical ability like Notus had.
T A G » Alyse {Mallory}
M U S E » blah
W O R D S » CMLIX [959]
S T A T U S » complete
C R E D I T S » all table codes belong to Ayumi of Aeon. do not use without permission! |
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Post by Mallory on Apr 3, 2013 16:59:59 GMT -5
[/color][/font][/center][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=height,500,true][atrb=float,left,true][atrb=style, background:#FFE87C; padding: 0px; border: 3px solid #000000; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 5px;][style=height: 300px; width:430px; margin-left: 15px; margin-top: 15px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-right: 15px; font-family: Tahoma; color: black; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; background-color: #FFE87C; -moz-border-radius: 10px; -webkit-border-radius: 10px; border-radius: 10px; -opacity: 0.75;] Despite the loss, Alyse knew she had to have done well enough to garner some more support from the natives of Aeon – even if she didn’t know who they were or where they came from. The extra support rallying behind her was unmistakable, so no doubt the word had spread about the close win bestowed upon the gladiator of Selisona. Alyse knew that word of their fight had to of spread, given the disadvantages leaning against her, yet she had managed to some out bloodied, but with her life. Her wounds would scar, but she had evaded broken bones the last round, unlike her opponent. Oh yes, she had seen his jaw and knew that there would most definitely consequences in the future for the hulking stallion because of her blow. She had been proud at first, for being able to cripple a foe who was stronger than she, but the pride had quickly faded to guilt. Only the Gods knew exactly what kind of damage she had done and she felt that it was better off that way. She could only speculate on how the stallion was doing now, after seeking a healer. She could only wonder about the other fight that was to occur; how catastrophic it could possibly be between two powerful stallions. She may have lost, but clearly she had left some sort of impression on the natives if their cries and calls of encouragement were anything to judge by. It was certainly nice to have some sort of support this round that much was for certain.
Of course, there had been whispers that circled around after she lost. Many questioned why didn’t she use any magic, couldn’t whatever abilities she had been blessed with by the Gods had helped her against her superior foe? The idea made the mare scoff. She certainly had magic coursing through her veins, there was no denying that. However, her own ability was terribly uncomfortable, to say the least. She knew she was different, especially when she could morph plants into field mice as a child. It was something frowned upon, and her mother had quickly smothered Alyse’s curiosity over her own magic. As an adult, Alyse knew there were not many Witch Doctor’s in Aeon. They were still treated with caution regardless, which led her to further smother her magic. Why use it if no one appreciated it? Even so, despite her own misgivings and discomfort with her own abilities, Alyse eyed the bits of greenery that clung to the ancient stone structure. Even if her magic was weak from disuse, she had to heavily reconsider not using it for this round – especially if her opponent was skilled in his own art. She had learned her lesson the hard way the last time. Even if her tricks were small, anything could help, right?
Her opponent was all fire and boiling anger as he came stalking through the sole gate, feline like eyes locking on to her as soon as he entered. No doubt he was still furious over his own defeat, for whatever reason. Rage could fuel the fight, but it could also be exploited to her own advantage. She could not let her own rage get the better of her this round. It had to stay locked away tight in a deep, dark corner within her alongside the nightmarish hell she had been put through the last round. She inspected him carefully as he grew closer, taking inventory as she did so. He was winged like her, but his wings were vastly different from her own, and had great horns crowning his skull. Something to watch out for that was for certain. She had no intentions of getting gutted this time, either. She came too close in the last round. One grand benefit was that the stallion, despite his dramatic appearance, was that he was her height. They had an almost level playing field, physically, which could certainly prove for an interesting battle.
Suddenly disbelief seemed to paint itself across his features. Ah hah, he finally realized it! she thought, resisting the urge to outright laugh at his blunt statement. A brow merely arched instead as amber eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her head tilting to go along with the expression. “It would seem so,” she responded, her smoky voice assisting in the reveal. Her voice, despite its rich tenor quality, was still feminine enough to compliment her androgynous look well. Certainly, if he looked hard enough, he’d realize she had not been thrown in as a wild card – at least, not at first – in order to garner a less fierce fight. No, her fresh scars and rugged body proved she had come to prove herself. Unable to stop herself, she mare let out a harsh bark of a laugh as a grin that did not quite reach her eyes broke across her black and gold lips. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t expecting a fair fight, now would I?” she continued, her smoky tenor carrying along a teasing tone with it. The mare’s own wings unfurled slightly, the feathers ruffling much like an angry bird’s would. She was not blind to how he had stepped deliberately, as if to mask the injuries he had sustained in his own previous fight. Too bad for him she had noticed, however. The mare’s head dropped, tucking into her chest as her hind quarters propelled her into a powerful leap. As her front hooves hit the sand, her back legs dug back into the shifting ground, allowing her to use her own momentum and body way as a battering ram towards his side with full intentions of landing a blow on a sore spot.
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tagged: Sephiroth
status: Complete
words: 950+
notes: I'm assuming there's some sort of ivy on the building, which will later aide her. xD
- Attack [1/5]
- Defense [0/2]
- Injuries:
-
"Alyse Speech"
Alyse thoughts! [/font][/color][/size][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Deleted on Apr 6, 2013 1:00:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=background,http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n87/Bai_MeiEr/tables/sep-02.png,true][atrb=style, background-image:url('http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n87/Bai_MeiEr/tables/sep-03.png'); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom; padding:0px 60px 0px 60px; text-align:justify;]» She sounded confident enough, not a waver or a hitch in her deep, not-quite masculine voice as she responded easily to his blunt question. Whether that confidence emanating from her speech and posture was well-founded or simply foolish self-delusion was yet to be seen, but would be revealed soon enough in due time. He would give her a fair fight just as she was "expecting", and let the audience drink their fill of bloodshed while he was at it too. Sephiroth did not fight with dirty underhanded tricks; it was one of his few redeeming qualities, even if that practice was born mostly from his infernal pride. He might have readily employed some sneaky tactics every now and then, but intelligence and good use of feints and bluffs made up a good portion of one's repertoire, after all. His pride would just never let him stoop to things that would cause others to question his true strength and snicker behind his back. That was one thing the Thalmic girl could rest assured on that front, at the very least. The things she did have to worry about were much more obvious and direct. He could practically feel her gaze sweeping over his wings and horns, knowing that she, too, must be making preparatory calculations and analyses about what sort of attack pattern he might use, where he'd been injured previously and where best to attack next. It was also probably a safe bet to make that word about his last fight had spread to her ears as well, and that she already knew of his magic class and fondness for roasting his opponents alive with those jets of bright blue flame of his. Such a pity that he'd heard no such snippets of information about her. From what he could tell, she'd fought the Selisona gladiator with tooth and hoof alone, which already naturally put her at a disadvantage against the giant Aeonian whom he'd heard was a highly skilled Illusionist. (Fancy that; both the Illusionists in the Games this year would be pitted against each other. Make-believe fantasy versus make-believe fantasy.) A foolish move to not use any magic when one's very life was very much in danger - unless she really did not have any magic at her command? It was a possibility, at least, unlike the last time when he'd faced the gladiator representative of a clan famous for its deep, abiding obsession with magic. It seemed like he would have to coax it out of her like he'd had with Notus, then. Tedious work and somewhat frustrating, but it had to be done.
» Now that he'd allowed the black-and-gold mare to make the first move, he could practically see the cogs working in her mind, deciding on how best to launch the offensive, and where to target. It wasn't hard, either, to guess where she would make her move. The lameness with which he'd walked in on that left foreleg practically begged to be taken advantage of in a situation like this, and just as his previous opponent had singled out the area, his shoulder was relatively unprotected, without twisting, ridged horns or five-inch-long spikes protecting it from harm. In this instance where the element of surprise was lost the moment they locked eyes on each other, there was little room for anything fancier than an all-out rush at the one place deemed to be most vulnerable. The only other option for her was to take to the skies, and while Sephiroth's last tumble in the dust had left his wing sprained and in poor shape, he was still confident that, after receiving the attentions of a healer, he could properly face her in aerial combat today if it came down to it. No, she took the first choice and charged him, a bold move and one that was somewhat uncommon for those of her gender; most mares preferred to rely on tactics that involved a little less brute force. Hell, brute force he could handle, not a problem. Staying right where he was, his toxic green eyes followed her figure as closely as a hawk as she sprang into action, shutting out the sounds of the spectators erupting into a roar at the start of the match. His immediate response was to set himself on fire. Almost instantaneously, blue tongues of flame sprang to life and crackled and danced around the feathers on his four legs, as though his four hooves themselves were burning where he stood. While she swung around to his left in an effort to get at his more heavily injured side, the Demon pivoted around as well to keep himself facing her, hooves kicking up dust from the arena floor and sore muscles crying out in some protest that was duly ignored by his brain. It looked like she intended to just body slam him where he stood; he had no intentions of letting her do so. With a deep, booming war cry the crimson beast reared up onto his hind legs, muscles in his hindquarters bunching and contracting to lift his heavy bulk off the ground and straining beneath his hide to keep the timing just right. If he calculated this well enough - which he did more often than not - then he could bring all his weight crashing back down her on his two massive flaming fore hooves, with force like a falling titan and more than enough power to at least knock the wind out of her, if not leave charred scrapes or bloody gashes. Her own momentum would bring her sailing right in to amplify the force of contact, and his hooves would wreak havoc on her chest muscles, shoulders, anywhere they could find purchase. As if that weren't enough, Sephiroth tucked in his chin to his chest as he reared, a simultaneously defensive and offensive move as he protected his jugular and angled the tips of his deadly horns straight at the charging mare. His crashing down on her in that one fluid motion became a truly vicious and deadly assault, attacking with his hooves, horns, and magic in one movement.
» In half a second more they made contact, flesh and bone meeting flesh and bone with an almost sickening thud! of impact. He'd turned his body so as to meet her charge full-on from the front, and managed to spare his left shoulder more direct aggravation, taking most of the impact on his chest and - hopefully - hooves, still on fire. But the shockwaves sent through his body by the collision still irritated the wound all the same, sending sharp bolts of pain through the nerves and reminding him unpleasantly of the day when Notus had inflicted the wound on him in the first place. That damned Illusionist, to leave him disadvantaged in such a place, even after the best efforts of the Gascti healer. Just the thought of his last opponent and his subsequent defeat was enough to make the flames on his hooves flare anew, the embers now licking all the way up the length of his legs.
T A G » Alyse {Mallory}
M U S E » blah, rambly
W O R D S » MCCVII [1207]
S T A T U S » complete
O O C C H A T » Attacks: 1/5
Dodges: 0/2
Injuries Sustained: remnant injuries from first fight; sore/bruised chest muscles and aggravated shoulder injury
Just for clarification, he reared while she was charging him and tried to hit her with his hooves and horns coming back down. Hooves are on fire. (I counted this as one attack since it took place simultaneously.)
C R E D I T S » all table codes belong to Ayumi of Aeon. do not use without permission! |
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