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Night Runner [Ru vs Albrecht] - Printable Version

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Night Runner [Ru vs Albrecht] - Ru - 03-12-2017

A day’s leisurely travel brings the youth to the most northern of passages. Where she has rarely ventured, for disliking the coolness, the ice and the loss of heat. Though despite this, now that it is Tallsun, the landscape is bearable in the last reaching rays of the sun.
Ru has since touched down with a heated body, giving off wafts of steam that replace the cool air surrounding her. Most of the snow covers the grounds, that crunch and creek underneath her weight.
This land is otherworldly, as the day pulls back to reveal mountains swaddled in pinks. Magenta and the hot blood orange, tinge these tips with a foreboding reminder of why the mare has travelled so far. It is as simple as any rudimentary, animalistic purpose that exists in each and every one of them. As to why the others do not exploit these traits, is a wonder to the woman. They will all face a time in their lives, when no one can vouch for their safety. Or when Kaos rears his ugly head to destroy their homes; who will defend their borders? When there is nowhere to hide, or escape from, when home is all there is that stands between the enigmatic god.
Where do cowards run, when the call is made to arms?
There will be no escaping their vacant bodies, or their slinking forms.
She moves to stand on rocky ice. Testing out the traction in her hooves, as it catches random rubble and rock, and where there is none to catch her hooves at all. Preferring the snow-laden rocks to the uneasy purchase of pure glacier ice.
As always she is nervous with the prospect of battle. Pain still leaves its bitter impression on her mind. However finds herself more accustomed to the sense of ripping sinew and punctured muscle, despite its unnatural bite.
Rolling back her wings, she rears against her haunches and cries into the cooling airs. Her feathered mane a flare, and her neutral colours outlined by the dying sun.
Who will answer her in these frosted halls?
The uneven ground, littered with unknown ice and hidden in old frosts are challenge enough. With the lack of sunshine, there proves a more formidable obstacle. One that punctuates itself the further it sets in the long, Tallsun day. Ru softly lands on her fores as her voice rattles out, and scans the uneven grounds – littered with odd, and swerving rock formations.

Words: 411
Setting: Tallsun, Frostbreath Steppe, setting sun, uneven ground composed of glacier and rock, random rock formations littered about. Anything and everything goes! :3

Image Credits


RE: Night Runner [Ru vs Albrecht] - Albrecht - 03-21-2017


At times, it seems the only way to keep the knot of coldness in his breast from spreading is to move - a lot. He’s used to fitful nights, the wearing process of snatching rare moments of sleep between bouts of suddenly jerking awake, those stolen moments of peace found more often under the glow of the sun than the cloak of the stars, but this seeping, leeching chill – there is no respite from it, only temporary delays. As frustrating and futile as it feels, he inevitably succumbs, rising and roaming at all hours, sometimes walking, sometimes galloping full tilt as if he might somehow outpace the curse he carries inside himself.

This evening is no different from the rest. He rouses, curled tight and shivering despite the warmth of the season and the cloud of steam drifting into his cave from the hot springs outside. Illogically, a shimmer of frost hangs from the tips of his whiskers, his uneven coat. Slowly and with obvious effort he rises, stuffing his muzzle into the wool at his chest with a mix of annoyance and desperation, removing its contents – mouthing the tooth caps into place, slipping the golden chain with malachite pendent over his head – and shaking himself to spread the dirty fabric across his maneless neck.

He pauses, staring down at his sleeping companion, momentarily debating the merits of waking him versus leaving him be, but the old stallions brows pinch upward, guilt staying his voice and touch. The young python is sprawled on the smooth stone of the cavern, his body warmed by the radiant heat against his belly, his lidless eyes soft and unfocused. All is quiet across their shared consciousness, an indication of the snakes deep, dreamless sleep.

Not wanting to disturb him, heart heavy with the image of the little constrictor balled tight against invading places, faces, and memories that aren’t his own – a sad side effect of their codependent relationship – he quietly slips out instead, jogging across the valley and through the towering sentinels, rolling into a long lope when he reaches more even ground of the tundra.

Here, at last, his muscles begin to churn with effort enough to create heat, his breath faintly steaming in the cooler air of the far north. After a time he slows, lifting his head to watch the last splashes of orange and pink bleed across the sky. Against this backdrop of color a sillohette descends, its massive wings beating with an audible shhhs of air being cut against wide, bladed feathers.

The blacks ears flick forward, wondering – hoping – if the color of those wings is tawny, black, and brown, but as he lifts his head in a throaty whinny, eyes still pinned to the unknown figure, an unfamiliar voice rises to cut him off.

466 words
Wearing an Earth Amulet and :: [ Item: Tooth Caps | Offensive. A set of tooth caps like fangs. ]

"Alby talks" 'strom talks'
OOC // @Ru

RE: Night Runner [Ru vs Albrecht] - Ru - 03-29-2017

She doesn’t have to wait long for a returning call. A heavy, rattling response escapes beyond the shadows disfiguring the stranger. Ru can make out the years that have formed those swallow cheeks, by the amount of golden sun that highlights their rigid edge. The brief, hesitant glance that swallows his gaze, is not one she recognizes.

A crown twists behind the aged man. Her eyes trail from his cheeks to those horns, squinting to take in what other abnormalities that might inhabit the specter. With a long inhale that takes with it, the crisp mountain air – she billows out the heat from her lungs and advances on the stranger.

The pegasus woman keeps her air-born limbs outstretched, as her feathered head flares. She is nearly transported into an ether world between the twilight. No longer bound by the pleasantries of a mortal life. These things and thoughts are merely fairytales, but perhaps it will make the pain less aggravating. Perhaps they would paint their colliding bodies with fanciful imaginings, rather than the dull thud and spat of a spar.

- Not that that had been boring.

There’s just something ethereal fighting in this dim light. Where the stones cast long shadows, and the sun etches out the stranger in fine, slim lines.

Does he recognize the intent in her strides? Picking up at a trot, the female canters half way through the distance between them. Does he search for something else, rather than the primeval beating of their limbs? She assumes he does not, at least – she will know soon enough.

There is no easy way to come in hot, to be unpredictable, and catch her opponents off guard. She is still a child in her craft, learning what makes for foul and nasty wounds – where to cut. She enjoys it without realizing it, even if the pain follows her through. To have to gamble and shave off potential years from her purchase off the earth enthralls enough. There is no life worth cowering in the shadows, nor fear or dread to swell in every crack of her soul.

With the goading heat of the sun against her back, she charges into the stallion’s right shoulder. Lunging with her fore limbs curled as battering rams, for his slight and bony figure. Her lips curl back, in an attempt to sink her teeth into his neck. She can only hope that her charge gives her enough momentum to startle her opponent. Allow her body to shove forwards, and overpower his height for the briefest of moments.

IF, he submits and doesn’t fight back… The mare will have to come to terms to her poor assumption. That he wishes not to fight, that he had heard the battle cry wrong. It is out of her hands, for now, whether or not he suffers some great injury.

But before she can even consider the possibility, her body is steaming with the twist and pull of battle. Too consumed in the limelight that begins to dim, and thrust their bodies – so dissimilar and opposite of one another that they would make for an amusing display of wills and might. She is calculating whether or not he will go for her measures, or stand clear of her attack. If he will attempt to curl away from her with his hind legs, or lift his fores to meet her momentum.

The thrill is intoxicating, as she holds her breath in that very moment.


Attack: [1/3]
Closing Defense [0/1]
Words: 578

Image Credits


RE: Night Runner [Ru vs Albrecht] - Albrecht - 04-07-2017


The silhouette turns, earthbound now, though its wings remain outstretched. A ridge of – Horn? Hair? Feathers? – rises on the crest of its neck and between its ears, furrowing the old stallion's brows. So it’s not Gaal then, he thinks with a sigh, his expression deflating with disappointment, but the figure moves toward him no less enthusiastically for whatever emotion might be visible across the distance, first briskly trotting, then cantering. The black's ears swivel in apprehension as the winged stranger continues to pick up speed, advancing despite his worried posture. By the time she reaches him, for he can see clearly now that it’s a mare, slightly smaller than him but also younger and stouter, she’s openly charging, bearing down upon him like a force of nature.

What the hell did he do this time? He wonders, but the mare gives no explanation, skipping all due process and moving straight to sentencing. His instincts shout for him to run, to flee to the safety of the Basin before he gets the shit kicked out of him a second time, but the old black resists, planting his hooves and tensing, flinching in anticipation of the impending collision, desperately trying to rationalize with the dread clanging dire warnings in his head that to take the hit on his terms will result in less injury than it would to - literally - take it up the ass while trying to escape, because though his legs are long and his lungs are getting stronger with every day that he wanders to escape the creeping cold in his bones, the mare has been gifted with enormous wings and they, by their very nature, give her an insurmountable advantage in maneuverability and ground coverage.

The whump of flesh meeting flesh, the mare's forequarters slamming squarely into his right shoulder, sounds loud and hollow in the cold thinned air. Her momentum shoves the stallion back several feet, his legs scrambling to keep him upright while his lungs gasp for breath, everything they’d held before having been instantly driven out by the force of impact. He hadn’t expected her to be so strong. His body is ringing with shock, the right side of his front half simultaneously numbed from the blood being crushed out of it and deeply bruised by the trauma of being smashed between their two hefty skeletons, heat and pain only slowly returning and radiating out from the two circular epicenters where her knees had struck. It's all he can do not to crumple beneath her, a sudden sense of outrage helping to keep him precariously upright. Who is this feathery fuck? He seethes. She's pummeling him and he hasn't even insulted her yet!

Ears pinned flat to his skull now, the black inhales sharply, rallying himself and leaning into the mare's momentum, hoping to stop her assault from continuing through and past him, to hold her still if only for the briefest of moments. His head snakes to his right, toward the mare's right side if she hasn't yet changed direction, his mouth open and reaching for the large knuckle of her right wing, where the extra limb folds and begins to slope backward when not held taut. He mentally praises himself for having worn the metallic tooth caps and malachite amulet, as if it had been forethought and not simple cold that made him do it, snapping violently at the joint, hoping to grab and puncture the delicate capsule, to completely incapacitate the mare's ability to fly.

He shifts his weight onto his hind legs then, tucking his hocks underneath himself and forcibly lifting his barrel, dragging his right shoulder and foreleg up with it though they hang like dead weight from his body, still stunned and buzzing with pain. He grunts with the effort, but persists, determined to hook himself over top of the mare, to pin her down by her withers, neck, wing - whatever part of her is still nearby - to limit her mobility by any means possible in the event that his first attack failed to ground her.

680 words
Currently wearing :: [ Earth Amulet ] :: [ Item: Tooth Caps | Offensive. A set of tooth caps like fangs. ] and :: [ Item: Wool Scarf | Medium sized wool scarf. ]

"Alby talks" 'strom talks'

RE: Night Runner [Ru vs Albrecht] - Blu - 04-29-2017

Time limit exceeded, Ru defaults to Albrecht. Albrecht earns 0.5 VP.