Ophelia could not help but frown at the herd that had gathered that morning as the sun began to rise. The sparkles that had adorned her hair in the moonlight faded, and so did her will to fight. How could she take pride or honor in such an ill matched invasion? There was nothing to win here. Everything was being taken, stripped, rather. The alabaster mare ultimately felt disappointment fill her heart; not even their own lead was here to defend the shambles of a broken civilization, and she wondered what her sister was thinking now, having known Jackal when they were both young. The breath of silence exhales into chaos as fighting breaks out across the lush grasses and trees. Kri took flight from the trees, and Ophelia knew that her time to ache was closing, and she pushed her lithe body into a loose canter, making a wide circle while following the shadow of the winged leader of the Throat.
The young hybrid shut her heart behind iron walls, trapped to beat in her chest with a sole purpose: gaining control of the Foothills. Ophelia knew that removing individuals from battle one by one would give them even more of an advantage toward the end when tired muscles and heaving lungs caused more injury. So, she moved into the fray after making her wide loop to join against a tall, gray brute. Ophelia approaches from the south west side, dual colored eyes watching as Kri dove after the stallion, her hooves barely missing the crest of his neck. One of Kri’s warriors, a mare who mirrors the sky, landed in front, intending to fight from the ground as well as the new stallion of the Grey, Peixos. Their enemy, though the term seemed foolish and vulgar in her mind, stood very much taller than herself, but his ragged appearance and untried muscles spoke volumes about a general lack of interest in war. Though Ophelia’s figure was no more fit for war than his, she remained trim and athletic through travel, constantly moving from the forest to the Steppe.
Keen, strange eyes watch as Peixos takes advantage of Argetlam’s avoidance of Kri’s hooves, seeing the way the stallion launched his body toward the lonely Foothill’s fighter. Ophelia took the moment to act, quietly moving to Argetlam’s hindquarters, cloven hooves carrying her with speed and agility opposite of Peixos. She arched her neck, and attempted to spear him directly in the loins, though she knew that depending on his defensive maneuvers to her ally, he may be able to avoid her entirely. However, Ophelia was not without an alternative plan. Like a well-oiled machine, her mind works, the patterns of repetition she has seen taking shape and serving as a loose basis for subsequent action.
The alabaster hybrid pushes off the ground quickly with her hind quarters, leaping to the side in an attempt to remove herself from the proximity of his loins. As soon as her fore-hooves touch the ground, she lifts her haunches, lashing out with long, slender hind legs toward his barrel, or possibly shoulder, depending on his movement.
Tinek soared overhead, trying to move without interfering with the chestnut Pegasus, crimson eyes watching for a moment to dive. Just as Ophelia finished lashing out with her hooves, the silver beast tucked his wings to his sides and swooped from the sky. Just before colliding with Argetlam’s back, Tinek snapped open his wings and craned his neck downward, expelling electricity and frost from between his jaws. The dragon tilted his head as the wind lifted him from the battle again, attempting to make the blast that was intended for the top of his withers extend down his spine, but Ophelia’s kind was incredibly agile, he noticed. Granted, they were all earth bound and therefore rather limited…
The leader of the Grey’s intelligence turned to face Argetlam, watching her dragon’s jaws open and unleash a freezing, shocking hell with a churning gut. Why did they fight when so little were here to defend? What need and desire drove them when their own leader did not believe in their strength? As the sun continued to rise in the sky, Ophelia’s expression turned to storm. When she called for war, she longed for a challenge, proof that the Grey were noble, brutal fighters. What were they proving? Ophelia scoffed in her head as she kept her eyes on Argetlam, waiting to defend herself. Only that the Grey was smart enough to steal land from the broken.
[[OOC: (1/3) - (1/2 companion - 0/2 magic) - (756 words)
Ophelia circles to come at Argetlam's loin from the southwest (since no other direction was given for Arget's position, I assumed it to be his right, but I will wait and see!) and attempts to stab him with her horn. She then leaps to the side and kicks out with her hooves. As she is kicking out, Tinek swoops down and attempts to blast Arget with frost/shock combo (intensity of each power is lessened by half since he is using both in tandem) from his withers down his back. Tinek's body never touches Arget's body as he does not get close enough.
Ophelia uses that time to move and get in front of Arget, watching for her next defensive moves.]]
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Invasion Round One :: Cluster Two
