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Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Printable Version

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Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Sage - 08-07-2013


SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

The information gathered from the twins was bandied about in the golden beauty's mind for a while, waiting for the warmth of spring to return. The land was still dark, still cold, but the wind did not seem as bitter. With elegant legs and graceful movement, Sage stalks through the stars under the bright, silver moonlight of a nearly full moon. Her pastel eyes watch the shadows of the trees cautiously, waiting for any ghouls that might jump from behind their trunks. Her steps still purposeful despite the calm, slow pace.

The beauty had returned, but now it was time to reclaim her seat.

At the very least, Sage was to make certain that the new Wingleaders were up to snuff. Whispers about stealths, death, and war had been brought about upon her arrival. With such threats hovering above their heads, the towering pegasus moved with such consideration and watchful eyes; the Qian could not afford anything less than a powerful and capable body at the forefront. Confident in her own abilities, Sage believed that the only way she would approve of these new men would be to test her strength against them. The first on her list was Destrier.

Stepping into a small clearing, glowing brightly with the midnight flowers native to the land, the palomino looks like a flash of gold in sea of silver and blue. Stepping toward the middle, ever so calmly, Sage folds her wings about her side and lets her girlish voice proclaim her challenge in booming, yet sweet vocals. "Destrier of the Qian, I challenge you to a duel for your title. Defend your seat or lose it."

[ Challenge for the title of Wingleader.
Normal challenge rules, magic limits defined by the SWP. ]




RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Destrier - 08-07-2013


we are like birds of a feather
we are two hearts joined together
we will be forever as one
my brother under the sun </style>



In the midst of patrol, a call rang out and caught in my ears; it was a call for me, a challenge nonetheless, for the very position I held as Wingleader.

Slowing my steps until I had come to a halt, I turned my head to look in the direction that the call had come from. For a moment my mind cranked like clockwork, trying to place a name or even a face to the voice, but nothing came to me. With a brief glance to Suli, who exchanged a weary look to me from her perch in a young spruce, I picked up my pace again and headed swiftly towards the call of challenge.

As I went, I found it nearly impossible to staunch the unsettling feeling that was swelling within my chest. It wasn't that I was nervous or frightened to throw myself into the throngs of battle, to defend my title with all that I had and all that I was; no, I was fully prepared for that. What I wasn't prepared for was the possibility of walking out of this not as the victor, letting my children, Kaj, my herd, Bran, myself, and everything I had ever fought for down.

Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to rid myself of these ill feelings. I needed to keep a clear head if I truly wanted to emerge victorious today.

Ahead, a glint of golden pelt caught my eyes and immediately I began to absorb my opponent's figure. Unlike me, she was gifted with flight, but how useful would the feathered appendages be when we were surrounded by so many trees? She stood just shorter than me, and her overall build was much more slender than my own. If I didn't know better, I might have been surprised to see such a blue-eyed beauty pining for the title of a Wingleader, but I knew I couldn't truly judge her until the fighting had begun.

My feet never ceased movement as I drew closer to her, and when we stood approximately ten yards from one another(granted she had not since moved), I spoke. "May the most deserving walk the victor," I said, before I charged.

Aiming to put myself on her left side, I bucked upwards and thrusted myself to the left with the intent to knock my shoulder against hers. With my larger body mass, I hoped that I could at least phase her. At the same time that my head snapped back up from my initial buck, my teeth sought to find her tender flank. If no move was made to to stop me, I wheeled to the right once our hips had passed one another and kicked out at the last moment that was allowed, hoping to nick her at the very least, though only a fool would have been still for this long.

Above us, Suli looked on with a sharp, violet gaze, a low growl forming deep within her throat as she watched the battle begin. For now, she would be still, biding her time for the perfect opportunity to execute an attack of her own.

[WC - 527. 1/4 attacks, 0/0 companion/magic uses]




image by blu | table code by tamme



RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Sage - 08-07-2013


SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

He was calm. A serene smile is placed on Sage's lips as he arrives, sauntering in with heavy steps of a male. Already pleased with his reaction to such an abrupt challenge, the golden girl is happy to meet her counterpart. They are herd mates, after all, and the former Wingleader meant the current no ill. Having seen Destrier face to face, she is certain he will be a challenge - exciting. As such, her pale eyes utilize the time he travels to note the details of her opponent. Large, muscular even for a male. Taller than the tower of burnished gold and ivory, yet she still had hard worked muscle underneath her satin exterior. She is lithe, nimble in comparison to he. He would still best her in brute force, but perhaps she could outmaneuver him. However, the twins had failed to forewarn her about the glimmer of emerald in the skies. Knowing the power of dragon's breath, Sage hopes that this odd disappearance of the Gods has robbed him of his flame.

Silently, Sage twist her head to the side, glimpsing at him fully for a moment as he speaks. "So be it."
The calm before the storm.

The only warning of his motives comes in the momentary tension of his muscles before the black stallion named Destrier snaps into action. The winged girl throws her weight to her back end and launches her front end off of the ground, pivoting her body toward the right after seeing the slight veer in his motion toward her left. Her front hooves land in the soft loam beneath the starry mist, the glow of moonlit flowers gleaming below her and pushing shadows upward. Left shoulder relocated, Destrier's attempt to slam the thin cream frame fails due to the repositioning, and Sage works her front legs, still pivoting toward the right. The bite lands square on the left side of her ass, brushing the skin with saliva and a flush of dull pain but finding too large a mouthful to break the skin. Surely, a nice sized bruise would be there by tomorrow.

Her ears flick back into the lush plume of her mane in annoyance, disappearing instantly. In response, Sage plants her front end into place and kicks outward, back hooves seeking the flesh of Destrier's right shoulder or chest - whatever was within the range of her hooves. Hooves touching down, Sage makes a jerk forward, followed by turning right to face in the same direction Destrier had been moving. Back end moves, yet not fast enough to escape the fast draw of hooves. Instead of her left flank, however, the large stone colored hooves hammer into her right side as she turns, near to the hip joint. The feminine looking beauty lets out a surprisingly masculine grunt as the pain and force pushes the breath from her chest with the sudden force on her innards. A scrape cuts open in her flesh later surrounded by a crescent bruise, unsurprisingly, christening her figure in the first blood of the battle.

Sage grins. Nice shot, soldier.
If there had been time, she may have even cheered on her fellow Qian.

The inky black form is picked out amid the sea of silver, the small light of flowers illuminating the bottom of his body, but more importantly outlining him. Quickening her pace, the swift lady attempts to sidle herself along the left of Destrier. She stretches her front right leg reaching out like a menacing claw for the back of his left front knee when she figures she is in position. Simultaneously, her grin opens into a menacing set of teeth, flashing toward the left side of his face to distract his eyes from catching on to her tricks.

In the moonlight, her pastel teal eyes gleam savagely.
Let the games begin.

[ WC: 641; 1/4. ]




RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Destrier - 08-09-2013


we are like birds of a feather
we are two hearts joined together
we will be forever as one
my brother under the sun </style>



My buck had proved to be in vain, for my shoulder met nothing but empty space and I found myself having to right my balance again as I carried through with my bite. Though my teeth had intended to close down on the tender skin of her flank, they instead met the palomino's thick rump due to her defensive pivoting, and I figured it would only cause a dull pain at most. Not the most effective of attacks to wear down my opponent, but at least I had landed a blow.

As I wheeled my body to the right, I was unsuspecting of Sage's sudden kick. Luckily, the areas of my body most prone to injury had been turned away and only my rear was exposed now. Her creme hooves collided somewhere between the dock and gaskin of my right side, causing a sharp jolt of pain to flash from the point of impact down through the length of my leg. A grunt left my lips and my ears slicked back against my head, my rear tucking from the impact. Luckily the pain didn't last long in the entirety of my leg, instead settling to a non-stop throbbing that served as a constant reminder that I was locked in the heat of battle.

The palomino's kick spurred me into the execution of my own quick kick, though I wasn't entirely sure where it would land due to her repositioning if at all. Satisfaction bubbled through my being when I felt my hooves meet her side, the sound of her pained grunt nearly carving a grin into my face. I wasn't happy or proud that I had caused such a noise from her, but this was how it had to be.

Despite the stars that hung above us, shedding a sliver of hope upon those that called this land home, it was still inexplicably difficult to see every contour of my opponent's body as we danced this potentially deadly dance all in the name of being called 'Wingleader.' From behind me I could hear her pick the pace up, closing in on me as I moved away. What her next plan of action was, I didn't know, but I had to keep in mind that she would be much quicker than I in anything that she did.

I could feel her at my left side, much too close for my liking. In that instant, a memory flashed before my mind's eye; an iron-clad soldier who had managed to get past the rest, charging at us from behind, a battlecry leaving his lips as he poised his sword for my precious Bran's back. I had veered to the side to get my boy out of the situation until we could get ourselves in better placement. But without the threat of a sword and the loss of a life at stake, what I needed to do right now was quite the opposite.

In the moment that both front feet hit the ground next, I used the momentum I'd build up from my canter to my advantage as well as my heavier body as I sent myself to the left in yet another attempt to crash into the mare. However, due to her position and the cover of darkness, I had been ignorant to the attacks she had set in motion. As my my front legs left the ground and were propelled to the side, a smarting pain riddled my left leg as her hoof hit its mark. The wound had been afflicted on the widest, roundest part of my fetlock and I knew from the moment that it hit that my movement would be hindered for the rest of the fight. It had broken the skin, causing a trickle of blood to run into the feathers adorning my hoof, and it would surely be tender when all of my weight was suddenly forced back onto it.

To top that, as I sent myself to the left, her teeth did not meet my face but instead, they were more than likely given a mouthful of my curled neck. They were successful in removing a line of hair, causing a dull pain that would go away with little time, but I hoped that the imposing force would at least give her a toothache.

[WC - 722. 2/4 attacks, 0/2 companion/magic uses]




image by blu | table code by tamme



RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Sage - 08-11-2013


SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

A solid thud resounds from whatever surface of velvety black Sage manages to hit, for she has not the perspective to gather the information now. Not that she is happy, but certainly proud that her long struggle on the road alone had not dulled her sense of battle completely. Even in a quick kick that was more the fast reaction due to her annoyance, she was still sharp enough to capture her prey within the deadly embrace of hardened hoof and flesh.

It was not until she had turned that teal eyes meet with the tell-tale signs of a kick on the right side of Destrier's shapely bottom. A smirk grows on her face when she sees it, twisting the perfectly innocent features into something a tad more sinister and savage. Destrier need not fear for his life, but if he cared at all for his flesh, he may have stayed from this fight. Those who knew Sage well, after all, would note her ability to put stallions in their place. With such a pretty face, she had learned that skill early on.

Partially camouflaged by the metallic light of the moon and the flowers below their hooves, Sage skulks toward the left side of her opponent without difficulty. Pastel eyes widen in surprise as she realizes immediately when his front end lifts up that he intends to ram into her. Thinner of build and much less able to take a beating from such a muscled opponent, the pegasus quickly unfurls her wings. Determined, right wing tilts upward, toward the sky, while the left wing runs down, brushing the tops of the sparkling mists with its primaries. Then her left hoof cuts down to meet its mark, teeth snapping with a jarring blow on the his thick neck even as the bountiful expanse of pale wings rushes down in the night, the right wing possibly slapping down on her opponent. Her hooves push off the ground almost instantly as well, shoving Sage into the air a few inches from the grass and flowers at their hooves.

A dark shoulder catches onto the bottom of her right side just behind the shoulder, the momentum of the larger body shoving her sharply left. Thankfully, the slapdash defense of her wing-flap saves Sage from a a possible stumble and crash to the ground, as well as minimizing the damage. Still, the rattling impact sent a crushing pain to her side, definitely leaving a nice bruise on the skin above her ribs and she is sent, parallel, a foot or so from her opponent, as if she had made a strange hop to the side.

Keeping with the momentum of her body, Sage quickly regains her poise, noble in her appearance and spirit, showing no outward signs of being intimidated by Destrier and his imposing mass, even after she was bandied about like a half-grown filly. Instead, the mare takes pride in the fact that her attacks were successful. While not the most honorable tactic to aim for the legs, injuries in such areas were effective. If her hoof had done enough damage, Destrier would be slow of movement and much clumsier, making him less of a threat. An outside observer may be shocked by the cutthroat tactics of the stoic mare, as this was her herdmate, yet Sage believed this fight was more than a friendly spar. Destrier needed to prove to he was better suited as Wingleader, and by allowing his legs to be so easily injured... the mare was skeptical.

Didn't Madryn say he had proven himself through battle?
Suspect.

Trying to catch with his stride, Sage lets out a cowkick aimed for the thick left gaskin or possibly closer toward the stifle. Next, she takes advantage of her lithe figure, more suited for speed than force, to jet forward, attempting to launch out in front of Destrier and cut off his movements. She halts suddenly after one more stride, allowing her weight to fall forward, extending her wings for extra balance as she kicks outward, hooves searching for a chest, a face, a neck, anything within her reach. As she extends, the muscles upon her ribs screech out in protest. However, Sage would not let her pain show to the Wingleader. If she was deserving of his spot, she had damn well not show such weakness. Gritting her teeth, the golden beauty swallows her pain.

[ WC: 737; 2/4. ]




RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Destrier - 08-13-2013


we are like birds of a feather
we are two hearts joined together
we will be forever as one
my brother under the sun </style>



Black met gold as my shoulder crashed into Sage's, and satisfaction filled every fiber of my being at knowing my second attempt of the move had been successful. My heftier build had been in my favor this time, and as I felt the mare's mass move forcefully away from my own, I had already begun to plan my next course of action. First, though, I needed to put myself back on track and prepare myself for the hindrance of my new injury.

As expected, when my feet next touched the ground and the brunt of my weight was momentarily focused on my left front leg, pushing my hock nearly into the ground, a white-hot pain went shooting up the length of it and shot off in tendrils through my shoulder. I inwardly cursed myself for allowing such an injury, but I had not foreseen it in our flurry of motion. No matter the outcome of this battle, though, I would carry the experience with me and keep it in the pockets of my mind until I was in such a situation again.

When my back hooves came forward and connected with the earth, I dug them into the ground as deeply as I could manage given the dewy terrain, using my momentum to my advantage to try and turn away and to the right of the mare. It wasn't terribly easy, for I had never been meant for speed, and my hooves left a mild gash in the soft earth as they struggled for a solid purchase. Before I could get completely turned to the right, however, I felt a sharp, blunt pain as her hooves met my gaskin. Though it was mostly muscle there, it still pulsated in in pain in the vicinity of the impact, and would likely leave a bruise the following day. I could only be thankful it hadn't met my hock or any lower.

Facing to the right in correlation to the direction I had just been running, I kept my pace at a quick trot, watching as Sage had continued on and kicked out yet again, surely having expected me to keep going. A grin nearly pulled my lips back, but instead, the sound of wing-beats flying overhead pressured me into facing the mare again and starting towards her at a canter. The motion nearly caused me to grimace in pain with every other step, but I wouldn't allow my face to gnarl with it in the heat of battle.

Deciding it was time to join us, Suli had left her perch behind and was coming in from above, the spines on her back laying flat as she maneuvered herself towards Sage's face. Extending her wings at the last moment to catch herself on the wind, Suli aimed to stop herself and entangle her claws in the mare's mane and around her topline in order to hang on, while her teeth snapped for the palomino's ears. Her intentions were to be both a distraction and to help put my name as victor.

Keeping at a canter as Suli executed her own attack, closing the distance between myself and the lithe mare, I was reminded of the spar I'd held with Svetlana in the fields several seasons ago and the way she had simply flown away as I did this same move, and I could only hope it wouldn't happen again. I could almost feel Sage's determination to win, though, and I knew that I needn't worry.

If Suli's attack had been effective in stopping the mare or she had done so of her own free will, I stretched my neck out as I neared her, slowing myself as I did so, teeth flashing and aiming for where her neck met her shoulder. Then, I rose upon my haunches, striking for anything I could manage to hit, namely her back, wings or withers.

[WC - 652. 3/4 attacks, 1/2 companion/magic uses

Editted to change WC]




image by blu | table code by tamme



RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Boom Boom - 08-13-2013

Dingo and I have agreed to an IC pause to both participate in the invasion without penalty, carrying over all sustained injuries.


RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Dingo - 08-13-2013

Agreed!


RE: Grit. [Challenge, Destrier] - Sage - 09-28-2013

It's been well over a week since the invasion, and I still have no will to write this so Sage forfeits to Destrier.