the Rift


Same Old War (Ki'irha)

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#1



There was a certain allure to winter, in that the thick drifts of snow caught any passing sounds, silenced the howl of wind and offered a change of scenery, though no variety of colour, for the world had been reduced to greyscale. Even after so many years of living in the Basin, Roland harboured little love for the snow, and even less for the cold. He had grown used to it, his coat coming in thick and long in the winter, a distressing slight upon his usually well groomed appearance, but despite the added insulation he felt no urge to embrace the season.

So he tucked himself away beneath the ground, beyond twisting and turning hallways, pillars and pedestals of stone, and there he passed the days. A new confidence had been stirring within him ever since he had acquired magic, a dangerous notion of invincibility now that he had power, privilege, and it gave him courage. He had yet to put his abilities to a vigorous test, but once the snows no longer barred him into the valley he would learn of their limits. It was a pleasant thought with which to pass the time, a promise of excitement, a change of pace, new frontiers and grand ventures, but the anticipation also made him restless. The caves he took shelter in could only keep him content for so long before he began to think of them like the Sanctuary, barred in above and below, trapped and near sightless, with nothing but the tireless mantra of dripping water echoing in his ears, a maddening accompaniment to his ruminations. Roland half expected to see the haunting black cat materialize from the rock to taunt him with more riddles and mind tricks.

After days spent staring at the same dark walls and unforgiving ground, he braved the chill, the biting breeze and slippery ice. Though he longed to bask in the heat of the hot springs, and perhaps never leave until the frost around it thawed, he knew the water would freeze upon his skin the moment he left its warmth, and he would be worse off than he had begun. He did not stand idle beneath the boughs of leafless trees, however, hoping to soak up any weak rays of sun that managed to escape the mass of cloud. Instead he paced the open flats of the valley, determined to find some enjoyable aspect in the bleak of winter, and wishing to be spirited away to a southern oasis all in the same thought.

There was only one solution to abating the cold, beyond bathing himself in hot steam, and that was to get his blood pumping, to create his own source of heat and shake off some of the ice that had frozen in his joints. He walked at a brisk pace, his breath fanning out before him like great billows of smoke, until he had finally found a place that was not piled too high with snow. It reached up to his fetlocks still, and he could feel the coolness seeping into his skin, but it was manageable. The stallion repressed a shiver as he looked out at the dark expanse of the unfrozen lake, still and silent. The air felt like ice in his throat, dry and cold against his tongue, and he wished for a moment that he was back in the damp, dark, questionable comfort of the caverns.

Clouds overhead threatened yet another snowfall, but he reckoned it wouldn't be upon them until nightfall, and the sun had only just begun its descent into afternoon. How easy it was to lose track of time when, literally, living under a rock.

His voice interrupted the eerie silence, echoing across the rocks, resounding through the copse of trees in a wordless challenge. It was almost too loud even to his own ears, glancing off the drifts of snow. Roland doubted he would receive an answer, when the weather was so foul and all seemed to have fallen deathly still; but he needed to persist, to find something to occupy his time lest he stagnate and turn to ice himself. If that required facing a fear, taking up the sword, then he would deal with it.

Roland filled his lungs with the frosted air while he awaited an answer, pacing through the snow and leaving a winding pattern of footprints through the thick powder underfoot. He sank up to his knees and withdrew, continuing back the way he had come as if to carve out a makeshift sparring ring in the snow. While he worked, he listened to the soft hiss of snow falling from the nearby trees, the pulse of a bird's wings as it passed by overhead, the crunch of ice under hoof, and continued his circle.

---

@[Ki'irha]

[WC: 800/800
Frostfall Seasonal Spar.
Setting: A patch of shallow snow- fetlock height- between the lake and a small copse of trees. The sky is cloudy and there is very little wind.

Ki'irha can have the first attack if she wishes!]


Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

Image Credit


Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#2







Ki’irha
Do Not Go Gentle into the Night || Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

Ki’irha was a refined girl. She was lean and long, with a beautiful face and a unique coat. She had been raised in a family of warriors. Her rough edges had been smoothed by a gentle mother, who filled her heart with kindness and softness. She had her moments where she was mature, powerful, a warrior who deserved the rank of corporal.

But today was not that day.

The young warrior girl huffed and stomped her feet as she moved slowly across the frozen landscape. In an unusual foul mood, the mare had enough of the snow and was bored out of her mind. She had been holed up in her cave for a full day, waiting out the most recent storm, and sitting in silence was not her favorite thing. She had no issues exploring on her own, but atleast in that way she was moving, learning, going place to place. But this snow had made exploring near impossible, and the blue mare was growing stir-crazy. So a break in the awful weather was a good excuse to go out. But it didn’t cure her boredom.

She cut through the snow, sinking in to her fetlocks, feeling the cold air nip at her skin. She was dragging her feet, tossing her head dramatically, wallowing in her mood. She heard a voice call out, no words, just noise. She diverted her path, unsure of what she would find. The cry was that of a stallion, and though she was unsure what would be waiting, it was sure to be better than walking alone through an icy white wasteland. It was then she came upon a sight that distracted her. Tipping her head to the side, stormy eyes fell upon a form strutting circles in the snow. Perhaps he was a crazed soul making crop circles? She could not be sure. She slowly approached the brown form. The closer she got, the more of his form she took in. He was a handsome buck, his coat a beautiful mix of brown and gold, and he was crowned like she. Was he the one who made the call?

“Darling,” She spoke, breaking the silence. She stood before him, dainty and elegant, her white mane curling down her neck. Her tail wrapped once around a fetlock. “Your circle looks very nice. But, may I ask you what you are doing?” She locked onto his eyes, silver to blue. The circle was large, big enough for several horses to move freely. She carefully stepped into the ring, cautious of the large stallion. He was larger than she, not by much, but enough.

“I am Ki’irha,” she introduced, knowing that though her greeting was unsolicited, she had just stepped into his circle, and figured it was the polite thing to do. “I don’t think we have met. I am a new corporal here, and figure it would be nice to meet those who I am responsible for protecting. Were you the one screaming into the sky? I don’t know much of this place, but it sounded remarkably close to a battle cry.” She tipped her head, waiting for a response from the red and gold buck.


____________________________
"The Cry of a Warrior”
0/3
Word Count: 520
Tagged:: @[Roland]
OOC:: Ki'irha approaches, curious as to what Roland is doing.
I would love if Roland could make the first move, either now or next post.
//Bad post is bad

Credits
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#3



Roland did not hear the approach of another pair of feet, so enthralled as he was in carving out a path through the snow. A cool wind blew across the curve of his back as he worked, barely strong enough to take notice of, but it swept across the indent of his footprints like icy tendrils of mist, carrying snowflakes in its current. It was oddly peaceful, and once the exertion of his work began to take its toll on him, Roland hardly paid mind to the chill. The snow drifts piled high around the trees served to muffle any sounds of advance, and the young mare was almost upon him before he felt her presence, a dark trace of movement in the corner of his eye. The voice that met his ears spoke as if they were familiar with each other, and at first Roland looked up and cast his gaze around the expanse of the valley, expecting her to be addressing another. Yet her sterling eyes were fixed upon his face, and her following question seemed directed towards his actions. Roland threw her an affable, if somewhat bemused smile, and drew to a halt. She seemed to be a fragment of the night sky itself standing before him, in such stark contrast to the pale, lifeless hues of Frostfall. Her frame was slight and delicate, ivory hair tumbling down her neck and a dark horn rising from her brow. Roland wondered how on earth he was supposed to trade blows with her when he feared a single tap might send her off her feet. Perhaps he had grown too accustomed to facing taller, stouter opponents than himself, mountains of sinew and muscle, while she seemed a mere featherweight in comparison. She was a fair sight better than the winged beast he had once encountered on the ocean shore, but he hoped she was sturdier than she looked.

Or perhaps she had not come to fight at all, but rather, remark on his artistic prowess. She gestured towards the circle he had worn into the snow, a haphazard littering of footprints, imperfect and uneven, but still distinguishable. Roland chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. "Thank you. I thought I would create a platform of sorts. Wading through knee deep snow isn't exactly my idea of fun."

She joined him in the ring, turning her attention away from his crudely orchestrated landscaping and towards introductions. Her name was an odd one to his ears, and he wondered what realm she might have hailed from to be given a title like that; or indeed, how she had been gifted with such a distinctive appearance. It was almost as if the Gods themselves had infused stars into her skin, which did not seem a likely natural occurrence to Roland. He ceased his conjecture to return the favour with a bow of his head, ever the gentleman, even when he couldn't feel his ears. "A pleasure to meet you. I am Roland."

The mare held what seemed to Roland an esteemed rank, and he began to suspect that perhaps her looks were deceiving. "It was an invitation," he responded with a humoured curl of his lips. "I suppose you accept, seeing as you are here, Corporal?" He swung his hips outwards and endeavoured to face her straight on, attempting to draw a leisurely step closer. The snow was relatively solid under his weight, providing a reasonable amount of traction in most areas, and Roland dug his hooves in until he was satisfied with his stance. "I hope I don't disappoint. My expertise lies in other areas," he admitted, and then he was pushing himself forwards and up, forelegs leaving the ground as he aimed to throw his left shoulder against her front. With any luck the blow would send her staggering backwards, a test to see just how sturdy she was on those slender limbs.

He had been determined to abolish the barrier of empathy that seemed to exist between himself and his opponent, but now, upon seeing her, he did not find it so easy to throw all care and concern to the wayside and do his worst. He would have to warm himself up to it.

His landing was softened by the snow, and Roland danced several steps to the right in an attempt to put some distance between them. Once at the edge of the circle, he turned on his heel to direct a mischievous look at Ki'irha. "Mind you don't step out of the lines," he called out with a wink. It would keep them close, and while Roland had forgotten much of the battle training he'd received as a child, he had always been best at close combat. This would lock her in with nowhere to run.

---

@[Ki'irha]

[WC: 800/800
Attack: 1/3
Summary: Positioned directly in front of her, Roland lunges at Ki'rha and attempts to ram his left shoulder into her chest. Then he takes a few steps to his right, standing at the edge of the circle, and turns to face her.]

Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

Image Credit


Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#4







Ki’irha
Though she be little, she is fierce.

When the stallion noticed her arrival, she was met with a friendliness and warmth that, for a moment, melted the cold bite of Frostfall. She took in his features, and there was no denying he was a handsome buck. Golds and reds and honey had been spun to create the stallion, molded over a muscled form. She returned the smile. "Well, I've seen some find entertainment in stranger things," she laughed.

Cutting to the chase, he told her of his invitation, commenting on her recent promotion. "It would be a pleasure sparring with you. Though, I hope you will be a gentleman to little ol' me."She spoke the last sentence with faux worry, before tossing her head and letting a light laugh tumble from her lips. She squared up, standing tall for a moment. The stag was larger than she, noticeably stronger. But she was lithe and lean. Not quite opposites, but perhaps the best of both worlds. She took a deep breath, tendrils lifting from her flared nostrils. She shifted her weight on the snow, feeling it's give and solidity. The breeze ran it's fingers through her mane, and her silver eyes fluttered shut. She felt the world spin beneath her cloven hooves. In her head, she marked the lines of their ring, aiming for no hoof to toe the line. She readied herself, before opening her eyes and bowing to the golden stallion in her traditional fashion.

The brute charged, and the midnight princess danced away, but not quite quick enough. His shoulder rammed into her hip, causing her to stumble abruptly, disrupting her grace. A single cloven toe came close to crossing the line in the snow. But she adapted. Ignoring the dull throbbing that bloomed in her hind leg, she used the momentum to spin on her hind legs, turning to face him before lunging forward, heaving herself towards her opponent. She reached him and reared, hoping to be close enough to throw her weight into him, and jam her knees into his ribs or soft stomach. She pawed the air, hooves like daggers aiming for any available spot of flawless gold.

Ears pinned back, mane splashing like an angry wave, eyes dark and stormy. The midnight warrior threw her whole being into battle. Strength coursed like fire through her veins.

She would find a way to earn her title, and the respect that came with it.

____________________________
"The Cry of a Warrior”
2/3
Word Count: 402
Tagged:: @[Roland]
OOC:: Ki'irha takes the hit to her right hind leg, and it causes her pain and causes her to stumble.

She then lunges at him, attempting to slam her chest into his side, and have her knees come up and jam into his ribs or stomach. She then tries to injure him with her hooves.

Sorry it's a short one, I'm on vacation but didn't want to miss the deadline! :)

Credits
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#5
^ I believe you meant 1/3
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#6
+96 hours (4 days) for downtime as of timestamp of this post.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#7
Time exceeded, Roland defaults to Ki'irha. Ki'irha earns 0.5 VP.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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