Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +---- Forum: Battle Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=64) +---- Thread: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] (/showthread.php?tid=15061) |
||
Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Déodat - 07-28-2014
RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Blu - 07-28-2014 Don't forget to post a thread on stat rolling! RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Thranduil - 07-29-2014 It had been a long time. Wind stirred. It had been far too long. Sun reflected off its twin. The time had come. The golden son was ready to do battle again. Ready to feel the sweat and strain. Ready to breathe the fire of rage and taste the bitter crimson of life. Lost power and skill from a two year’s avoidance of a battlefield had left the golden youth, in his own eyes, unfit. The mountains had cured that though. Rising high and solid their icy challenge was met by the gold. Climbing their heights the golden had stolen from their supply what he had lost. Now, feeling each muscle pull and give with the fluidity and controlled power of a hunting cat, the day, he felt had come. Pulse pounded down in his chest, lungs breathed in deep, anticipation rose. It was time to return. Time to raise the battle cry and let loose the power he felt tingling in his blood. The golden was returning to the brawl. Returning to the fires of war. Such does his mind tell the preparing body. A general’s speech to his soldiers. Wait though, something is amiss. Those are fresh faces, cleaned just that morning by their mother’s handkerchief. They stand with fresh packs, clean clothes, and new guns. They have never seen war. When the general turns from them his assuring smile of pride and faith falls. He knows. The golden knows. It has been a long time. It was a faraway place from the sand dunes where he once earned his metals. Time breaks all things though. Not even stolen strength and vigor from the mountains can gain those dependable skills back. No, they must once again be earned. Blood and sweat paid in anew. Loans on life and body made. All these things the golden knew and feared. No one in this land of harsh ice, and unforgiving earth would give him the easier test. Nor, for that matter did the gold want that version, for he like the general, knew the truth. The soldiers must go on to full battle regardless of those truths. Mother’s sons must become solider men. So the forgotten golden must become the solid warrior. Both through the pain, sacrifice, victory, and loss of full battle. Never fear the fear. The twin horn’s ego was enlarged greatly by the recent successes of his work. No, not the work of the herd in which he now labored. His work of chaos and manipulation. Advancement in this made only last night as his lady tasked him as Phantom. It gave silence to the worries his absence caused, and pushed his pride ever larger. Ego could quickly be broken in battle, but time will demand him know these things later. For now, the golden boy shook his body loose in a low extending two paced trot, those earth eyes a spark with gold, looking for a challenger. Fate wasted no time, perhaps she sought to see the truth in his eyes. A call rang across the lake shores, echoing upon the mountains, and in the twin horned’s core. Pausing in mid step, the cat tail lashes about his hocks. Decisions are being made. Cloven hooves step towards the call. Lips lift and twist in a wicked grin. A red sleek creature he finds by the lake. Beat slows in viewing the challenge, coming to face it head on. Well built, sturdy, yet toned, crowned with clear red blade, and pierced by ice in the eyes, is the stallion the golden finds. One hark leans back, while earth eyes narrow and discovers hidden among his coat splashed with white, scars crisscrossing about him. Grin did not falter though, just as the previous worries were laid aside, so now the higher experience worn by this red was laid to rest with them. The golden’s pride was much too large to worry about such small matters. Feeling twenty feet tall the gold shook about that Spanish head and threw into the air a wild, fierce battle cry, letting it echo on the mountain tops. Returning the gold dusted gaze to the red, one gold forelimb was struck out in challenge. His mind begins its work. Many think battles time for automation, gut reaction, and instinct. A time for slowing down the mind. The golden sees another world. What courses they choose, what pain they feel, is all a conversation, just not with words. So his skills to read, theorize, and understand are the lenses he views through. As he faces the red warrior his mind is not turned off, but the opposite. It is on overdrive. Whirling. Buzzing. Ready. It’s been too long, so don’t make him wait any longer. "speech" TAGS :: @[Déodat] WORDS :: 790 (this is going to be hard XD ) ATTACK :: 0/3 NOTES :: First attack to you my friend, and good luck! SUMMARY :: Thranduil feels swelling pride and ego from recent successes, and so decides to answer Déodat's challenge and fight once more. Facing him head on he calls out an answer and strikes out his right foreleg for a moment in challenge, then ready's for attack. . RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Official - 08-17-2014 RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Sevin - 09-07-2014 @[Déodat]- Is this still continuing? RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Déodat - 09-09-2014
RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Thranduil - 09-21-2014 The golden son’s lips curl as the blood brute dips his head in acceptance of the challenger. A cool wind blows between the two, as a lady’s favor given in the last peaceful moment, caressing of the gold’s Spanish neck. Tassled lion tail curls and flicks back in forth as the energy builds in the prideful gold. He was ready for the dull peace of this place to end in a clash of hooves, sweat, and yes, even blood. Blood was not a savoy taste but oh how could you deny its bitterness when it is so viciously won. Did the gold rationalize it also meant his own blood might be shed? Of course that was stored somewhere back there in some deeply buried file, but it could not come forward when he was so blinded by the coming red. All powers focused on that coming brute. Every muscle and nerve begging for the first crash. Waiting for the beginning of it all. It kept waiting, and moments dragged on. Front cloven hoof paws at the permafrost ground, as the blood brute came in his own time. Harks flick back, impatient for it all to begin. Earth eyes found their target focused, but there was no edge, no blood lust. A tension rose in that golden breast. No! Nares snort out his dissatisfaction. Whether from cockiness or disinterest this red’s rolling pace, set to his own time would not do. Proud twin horns shook out and called out a bitter sound of war. Herd-mate or not, fight hard damn you. If you’re not on the edge of your seat then you don’t belong here. Red body shifts, and the Spanish neck of the golden son curls. Heart races and rasps against its walls, while breath comes fast and hard already to fuel the adrenaline. Now the warrior races to the left of the gold. Legs begin to dance in anticipation, ready to set loose. If that red fighter wouldn’t up the stakes, then the golden would drag him up with him. Even in their dancing the golden remains in the same place, ready to show the red just how serious any fight with the gold would be. Seconds tick down to, three, two, one. Blood coat comes to his side, but before the solid scarred shoulder can find the gold’s coat, the gold one is raised beyond its reach. Fore hooves push the solid youth off the ground and raise him above the earth. Attacks fly at the same moment. A sting like a bee hits the golden barrel, then slides down, unzipping the flesh, and letting the precious red begin to flow. The gold’s mouth opens in release at the first blood stolen from him. Stabbing pain radiates up his spine and out to his cloven hooves. It was a shallow blow, a scratch really to what it could have been, but it was enough when combined with the need for a ramped up fight to push the gold’s intensity up to its maximum. What was going to be a planned, precise strike on the white patch of that stallion’s back becomes a pain fueled full hit. It blinded him to its aim, but not to its power. Full force was sent to snap out those cloven hooves with such viciousness. All in a manner of seconds the calm of this piece of the Basin was gone in a flurry of horn and hooves. "speech" TAGS :: @[Déodat] WORDS :: 575 ATTACK :: 1/3 NOTES :: SUMMARY :: Thranduil rears just in time to avoid Deodat's shoulder, but still gets scraped on his barrel. In retaliation and hoping to escalate the fight, he strikes out for Deodat's back, hoping to hit it before the red runs by. INJURIES :: Shallow slash along the side of his barrel of his left side. . RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Official - 10-02-2014 Deodat has requested a default. Default win to Thranduil. He earns 0.5 VP Apologies, partial judging requires 2 attack posts per opponent, not total. This fight doesn't meet those criteria. RE: Blood In The Writing[Thranduil x Déodat spar] - Thranduil - 10-02-2014 I would like a partial judging please, as I spar mostly to get the feedback anyway. I know theres not much here, but still. |