the Rift


[JUDGED] the gloves are off [Rohan v. Mauja]

Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#1
rohan
The Warlander hadn’t realized that he’d been on his way towards his herd land until the familiar swell of trees had risen on the horizon, their dark edges smudged out and blurred by the hazy fingers of fog. He halts for a long moment, pale hooves dragging idly through the grasses (their blades softened with the ocean’s fair breeze), before he rests his weight squarely. Earthy eyes stare out across the flat fields that lie between him and the Edge, brown lips pursing as he allows his thoughts to travel along their rolling length.

It seems as though an eternity has come and gone since he had last seen the misty forests of his home—and even longer still since he had been officially accepted into their ranks. Another battle had been fought and won, the enemy defeated once more, but their victories had not come without the blood of Helovians accompanying—staining and bruising—their triumphs.

“This is the end.”

The Earth God had told them just that, had vowed to those who had thrown themselves so mightily, so recklessly into the fray—

“Return to your herds, tend to your wounded. The fight is over, be at peace.”

—the fight is over, be at peace


—as though it would be so easy, so effortless to return to whatever lives they had been living before. Rohan has been changed, he believes (for better or for worse he doesn’t yet know, he doesn’t yet comprehend what exactly could have shifted within him). Still, it is with a different gaze that he looks upon the familiarity of the Edge, less hesitancy in his gait as he drives himself forward once more, suppressing and burying the pieces of him that linger behind, that pull him to places his wandering heart does not yet wish to explore.

It is only as his large frame skirts along the very fringes of the territory that the antlered stallion notices another figure, another being. He slows from his hurried pace, thick tail lashing about the toughened, nearly-healed wounds along his back as he inspects the stranger, only recognizing the other stallion when the distance between them diminishes. “Mauja?” Rohan’s broad voice leaves him in a low and steady breath, his rimmed ears tilting forward as he inspects his King with a curious but unquestioning gaze.


“Speech.”
Attack: 0/3
WC: 388
Setting: On the outskirts of World’s Edge, where it’s fairly open land, spotted with trees, and the forest isn’t far away; it is early dusk, with the sun just beginning to graze the horizon. The worst of the heat has come and gone, with the distant sea breeze contributing to a fairly comfortable temperature. There’s fog beginning to settle low on the ground with the coming of night.
OOC: Meant to be a teaching spar for both Rohan and I! @Mauja feel free to take the first attack if you’d like c:

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.
image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.


Messages In This Thread
the gloves are off [Rohan v. Mauja] - by Rohan - 10-30-2015, 01:48 AM

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