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02-22-2015, 11:51 PM
Kipling trotted hurriedly under the fading night sky, thoughts abuzz following a few winks of restless sleep. A few days ago, he had borne witness to a mighty kerfuffle in the meadow at Helovia’s heart. Ever since, he hadn’t been able to shake the epic imagery from his mind. Clashing hooves, bared teeth, torn hides - all of it happening in a series of dramatic flashes through the sizzling heat of high noon in Tallsun. So. Awesome! He wanted in. Like… immediately.
Inspired, Kipling spent a few days in intense training. Sure, of course it would take more than a few days to turn the scrawny stallion’s physique into anything battle-worthy, but no one told him that. He sprinted, he rolled logs, he swam, he pushed himself to the very brink. And then he started to feel sore and it was getting kind of boring, so he guessed that meant he was ready to knock hooves and gnash teeth with the best of them. As soon as the sun was up, he was raring to go. Without even pausing for breakfast, he hurried off to the site of the scene that had made such an impression on him.
It wasn’t hot yet, but the air was sticky and thick in a way that promised to be brutal later. Kipling wasn’t bothered. He had some asses to kick. He swooped into the meadow in a flurry of excitement, announcing his arrival with a piercing, shrill whinny. His slender auburn frame flowed quickly through the field, weaving around the sparse trees that dotted the landscape and finally settling to a halt with the northern branch of the stream at his back. Here, he had unwittingly selected an excellent vantage point – the glare of the rising sun was indirect at his side, and he had an unobstructed view of the open grassland before him. He hastily used his horn to push his newly-acquired bag off his foreleg and flung it into the roots of a nearby tree. Then, he was ready.
“Come on!” Kipling cried in his best attempt at a threatening battle cry (which actually sounded about as menacing as a toothless puppy’s growl – perhaps he should’ve spent a couple hours practicing that badass fight voice thing). “Come and fight me!” He reared and thrashed his forelegs – another display of bravado – then landed and puffed out his chest. He raised his head proudly and concluded his challenge with a sharp exhale: “Let’s go!”
0/3, 410 words (using wordcounter.net)
Standard timeline, 3 attacks + closing defense
Magic/companions allowed
Setting: Thistle Meadow, just after sunrise on a cloudless day. It’s an open, grassy area on the northern banks of the upper stream with a few solitary trees closer to the shore, where Kipling has tossed his bag. Everything is very still and it is already quite warm. Kipling is posturing for a fight.
@[Keidajen] Would you like to be tagged?
Inspired, Kipling spent a few days in intense training. Sure, of course it would take more than a few days to turn the scrawny stallion’s physique into anything battle-worthy, but no one told him that. He sprinted, he rolled logs, he swam, he pushed himself to the very brink. And then he started to feel sore and it was getting kind of boring, so he guessed that meant he was ready to knock hooves and gnash teeth with the best of them. As soon as the sun was up, he was raring to go. Without even pausing for breakfast, he hurried off to the site of the scene that had made such an impression on him.
It wasn’t hot yet, but the air was sticky and thick in a way that promised to be brutal later. Kipling wasn’t bothered. He had some asses to kick. He swooped into the meadow in a flurry of excitement, announcing his arrival with a piercing, shrill whinny. His slender auburn frame flowed quickly through the field, weaving around the sparse trees that dotted the landscape and finally settling to a halt with the northern branch of the stream at his back. Here, he had unwittingly selected an excellent vantage point – the glare of the rising sun was indirect at his side, and he had an unobstructed view of the open grassland before him. He hastily used his horn to push his newly-acquired bag off his foreleg and flung it into the roots of a nearby tree. Then, he was ready.
“Come on!” Kipling cried in his best attempt at a threatening battle cry (which actually sounded about as menacing as a toothless puppy’s growl – perhaps he should’ve spent a couple hours practicing that badass fight voice thing). “Come and fight me!” He reared and thrashed his forelegs – another display of bravado – then landed and puffed out his chest. He raised his head proudly and concluded his challenge with a sharp exhale: “Let’s go!”
0/3, 410 words (using wordcounter.net)
Standard timeline, 3 attacks + closing defense
Magic/companions allowed
Setting: Thistle Meadow, just after sunrise on a cloudless day. It’s an open, grassy area on the northern banks of the upper stream with a few solitary trees closer to the shore, where Kipling has tossed his bag. Everything is very still and it is already quite warm. Kipling is posturing for a fight.
@[Keidajen] Would you like to be tagged?
Once upon a time called Right Now
