Conquest was measured by the triumphs, by the victories, achievements made by the whole – and no matter how many times he’d managed to seethe, to smolder, to devastate and ruin, if the rest of his harem couldn’t grasp hold of domination, they’d never learn the meaning of annihilation, supremacy, domination. So the Lord held two roles, and sought to regrow, to mend, to restore his fractured army, to unwind it’s crippled bombardments and aid the swing of its upheaval and escalation, otherwise, what would be their ultimate future? To watch and witness the paralyzing collapse of the many, while only a capable few acknowledged their abilities to distort, to disfigure and misshapen? To become an endless reflection of defeat and anguish, to revitalize only to observe faltering, stumbling, crashing and burning all over again? Gone were the days of their wasted fortitude, of their squandered, misdirected, misused capacities and powers, precision was a must, prowess a certainty; no enemies quivered or quavered when multitudes of monsters fell from mere blemishes, from bare anguish, from the first sight of blood. If they were proud, if they were violent, intoxicating, beguiling and ensnaring, they needed to display it for the world to see, shake, and fear. The Basin would evolve with its force, ferocity, and ambition, or suffer the consequences.
The first patriot was to be the GildedBlade, Illynx.
What would a leader be without their wiles, without their artifices, without their supremacy? Another augured, fallen crown, with just one chink in the armor, felled and forsaken, freed of thorns, throne and livelihood? Not remembered for their glossed, gleaming successes, but the crippling defeat of their designs, the fumbled, staggering stretch of their resilience? Perhaps, through loyalty, through adherence, through allegiance to the empire, to the sovereignty of the Aurora, he intended to forge a practicing barrage upon her, to ensure, certify, secure she contained enough aptitude, strength, adeptness to subdue opponents.
Deimos called out the golden mare amidst the deep valley of their homeland, along the opulence of dawn striking against the shadows of caves, frost and rime. The hot spring’s sulfer scent wafted nearby, but the Tallsun’s strife deemed it too hot for relaxation and relief, and the rise of his bloodshed, of his brutality, didn’t permit him anything but the gruff distinction of skirmishes, insurrection and revolution. If she were wise, if she was bold, if she was daring and valiant, she’d come and untangle her own woven path of treachery. The Reaper’s voice echoed over the lower rungs of the gully, commanded and demanded the brimming, brewing tempest and turbulence. “Begin.”
[Traditional training spar. Intro post – 433 words. 0/3 + 0/1 magic used.
I’ll be making OOC comments after Illynx’s first post. :D
Setting: Late Tallsun. Dawn within the Aurora Basin. Set in the valley, towards several shallow caves and the hot springs.
You have first move, lovely~ @[Illynx] ]
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[JUDGED] Iron Indignation [Training Spar]
