"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
10-03-2013, 02:21 PM (This post was last modified: 10-03-2013, 02:24 PM by Oxy.)
I'm. Really. Fucking. High. These words echo in your head as you stand beside a stream in the late morning. The sun overhead brightens the area around you, revealing strangely segregated pairs of horses battling with one another. You know you must be high for two reasons. One- you don't remember how you got to this place at all. You just blinked your eyes and suddenly you were here. Two- you look like a god damn fool. You look back and see a leather strap is tied around your waist and rump, long dried grasses falling down from the strap and surrounding your hind limbs on all sides almost to the ground. They're even rainbow colored. Then you look down to your chest. Two coconut halves are pressed up against your manly pectoral muscles, an intricate series of straps wrapped around your neck and under your limbs keeping them in place. Your signature drug bag is gone from your shoulder. Finally, you look down into the river. Your reflection reveals the source of an annoying rusting in your ears. A beautiful string of flowers is wrapped around your ears and up and down each of your two horns. I'M A HULA GIRL?!?
As you step away from the river, a series of insults beings to roll through your brain. You don't say them aloud, but sailors would cover their ears to hear you swear. You curse your drugs for taking you to this strange place, you curse the gods because you can't imagine what you did to anger them and you curse yourself because you must have mixed up your drug plants with something else (you don't usually hallucinate). Then, you find something else to curse. He's big, just like you. He's sturdy, horned and bay. He does have one thing you don't have, though. Wings. It doesn't matter. Hallucination or not, you're still pissed and you're still going to take it out on someone or something. This unlucky, bone-nosed stallion has suddenly become your target.
A blood-curling war scream breeches your lips and you watch the bay for a response. He must know what the sound means- he looks like he has more scars than you do. You're impressed- your subconscious has conjured up quite an opponent for you. The desire for blood makes your muscles tremble. The one thing you are glad for is that in your hallucination you don't feel slow, lazy or uncoordinated like you usually do. You feel strong and balanced, ready to make your opponent bleed and add a new color to your rustling skirt. Thank the gods for some kind of break.
You don't waste any more time screwing around. You're not about to let bone-nose get away from you- then who would you take all your frustrations out on? You force your big body into a canter and try to head towards your opponents side, the grass skirt beginning to swish around your limbs. Their tickling touch is nothing short of infuriating and your resolve to smash bone-nose to pieces is suddenly redoubled. Your massive hooves strike the ground, taking you closer to your opponent with each step. It doesn't take you more than a second to determine your first specific target. The wings. If the stallion can't fly, he won't be able to escape as quickly, and you need him near you if you're going to beat him bloody. As you close the final step between you and your opponent, you throw your head down, trying to drive your horns into the junction between wing and shoulder. You don't even bother to stop running, your only other goal to crash your... lovely lady lumps into bone-nose's side. Maybe the coconut bra will be good for something after all. Then, you think one more thing you never expected to think during this strange hallucination. Is that a snake?
WC: 644
Post: 1/3
@[Gaucho]- I won't tag every time, just wanted to let you know I'd started :)
Gaucho's dark ears swivel, towards the direction of the sound. But it isn't the location of the sound - the closeness - it's the category. For one so simple as Gaucho to posit that within simple notes anything more philosophical or meaningful could subsist, would be ridiculous. And yet, in his very bones he knew.
It was not a noise, not just some vocalization. It was a challenge.
Gaucho's stoic gaze surveyed his would-be challenger, narrowing his eyes slightly to diminish details and see the stallion as a whole. Subconsciously his battle-beaten mind took in the aspects of the stallion that might prove important; noting and then dismissing them quickly. He was as tall, if not perhaps taller than Gaucho - although perhaps it was his bulk that made him appear larger than he truly was. Like Archheebalt Gaucho thought, mentally probing Mara and providing her with an image of the draft stallion, who had replaced Gaucho's bones with rocks and lead during their spar.
Archibald dissipated from his thoughts as the dark stallion begins to advance. A welcoming, though hollow smile briefly parts Gaucho's dark lips, as he moves his more lithely built frame to squarely face his oncoming attacker. As Oxy's larger hooves pound against the dampening earth, Gaucho grunts loudly, as an idea takes form.
In a battle between a pegasus and a unicorn, surely it is the winged-one who has the advantage. For how can a creature bound to the earth, possibly land an attack? Gaucho had seen many use this to their advantage in the Throat, but the winged-Sergeant would not take to the air now. He would not deprave this stallion, nor himself, a true test of their abilities.
Rearing slightly, his brindled hocks becoming moist on the uncut grass, Gaucho's smaller hooves dug deep into the fertile earth. His dark wings billowed open at his sides, to aid in balance, as his forelegs continued to beat upon the ground. As Oxy neared, the ground began to tremble, and finally appeared to warp slightly, as if a tremor was rippling outwards through the grasses. With a grunt of effort, and a keen eye with which to sense Oxy's tactic, Gaucho lunged forward and to the right, kicking off with his hind-legs and leading with his right shoulder, hoping that his war-stomp would provide a disruption. Although the distance put between the two was enough to save Gaucho from Oxy's horns, it also eliminated any possibility of a counter attack, for even Gaucho's long frame could not kick through the distance he had put between them.
As Oxy's lowered brow sailed harmlessly by, Gaucho veered in farther to the right, to bring himself about as Oxy continued past. With a squeal of frustration, Gaucho surged after his attacker. His pace - which could have been faster if the length of his strides was not compromised by the wetness of the grass - was swift none-the-less. He angled his charge to try and come at Oxy's left side, at somewhat of an angle, hoping to avoid a defensive kick from the bulky stallion. He kept his steely gaze trained on the dark form, hoping to correct for any movements that he might make to deter Gaucho's attack. With a grunt, Gaucho tried to slam his right shoulder into Oxy's left - hoping that his collar of spikes would deal additional damage to his opponents muscle, should they collide. Gaucho kept his head slightly lowered and to the right, aiming to defend off any bites or horned-attacks that his opponent might try and usher his way.
In his antlers, Mara hissed aggressive - keeping her onyx gaze locked on the pouch-thing that was strapped against Oxy's body. Her own bonded had a collar of spikes around his frame - was it possibly that this bag held some sort of weapon, as well?
[WC: 653
Attack 1/3
Summary: Uses war-stomp and dodges to the right to evade Oxy's attack. Turns around and charges after, trying to knock into Oxy's left shoulder.]
As you run towards bone-nose, he rears, wings billowing open. You think he's going to launch into the air, but he doesn't. Instead, he batters the ground mercilessly with his hooves. He leaps to the side to evade you. You expected it and are about it compensate. Then, he does something you don't expect. He throws his foot down to the earth and you shake like a miniature earthquake has hit you. What a cruel hallucination this is, you think, as you begin to feel the familiar unsteadiness of being high on your plants. With the combination of your new-found uncoordinated limbs and the dewy grass, you can't help but slip and slide. Its enough. The stallion escapes unscathed and you continue running on past him like a fool. What a show.
In a moment the dizziness passes and in frustration, you growl to yourself and pull your ears down against your head. At least, you try to pull them down. The god-forsaken flowers rustle about around your ears and get in the way. “BWAHH,” you shout unintelligibly to nobody in particular. The sound is overlaid by a squeal out of bone-nose, your hallucinated opponent. Then, you see him out of the corner of your eye. He's turned and he's headed back towards you, his leopard-print cape billowing out behind him. At least you're not the only one who looks like a fool in this stupid dream you're having. He seems to come upon you very fast; your slipping must have cost you more speed than you thought. Just one more reason to be frustrated about this whole, stupid ordeal.
For a moment, you wonder if its even worth it to run. After all, this is just a figment of your imagination. Nothing that bone-nose does is really going to hurt you. The thought doesn't give you much comfort, though. Whether the situation is real or not, your emotions are and your missed attack has only served to increase your blood-lust. Unfortunately, your brooding doesn't leave you much time to think about a defense. Besides, his angled form is almost perfect. Even if you were agile enough to kick while running, you could not reach. The stallion comes up beside you and slams into your bony shoulder. His muscular body batters you to the bone and you grunt in displeasure. As the collar of spikes rakes against your flesh, sending a wave of blood down your side and dripping over the straps that hold your coconut bra in place, you know that hallucination or not, the pain is very real.
At the very least, you can count one thing a win. Your mass has more-or-less kept you from tripping up too much. Despite the stallion slamming against you, you manage to maintain an almost steady course, though you're thrown to the side slightly. Still, small victories aside, you know you've got to make your next move quickly. If the stallion has time to prepare, he may be able to avoid you again. The hissing of the snake in the stallion's antlers gives you all the motivation you need. You immediately slow your pace to a trot, trying to let bone-nose pass by you. For a second time, you throw your head down, trying to dig your horns into the fleshy junction of wing and shoulder. While you do this, you try to keep a wary eye on his bone-spike collar. It wouldn't do to injure yourself further on the thing. As it is, every step you take gives you a new flash of pain up your shoulder.
At almost the same time you throw your head down, you try to copy bone-nose's move. Bracing yourself for the pain you know will come if you make your mark, you throw yourself to the left. You hope to bash your shoulder into the back end of bone-nose's ribs or into his right hip. You imagine that you'll either cause him pain or cause him pain and throw him off balance if you hit. Both options are fine with you. All the while you do this, you try to keep tabs on two things. One- the wings. You're sure they can cause just as much damage or interference on the ground as in the air. Two- the snake. Although it's been firmly rooted in bone-nose's antlers thus far, you don't expect it to stay there. And really, what good is a grass skirt and some flowers against a snake? Stupid hallucination. If you had to dress up, you could have at least been something more menacing. A dragon, perhaps?
As Gaucho raced after his opponent, he found that he actually liked the way the cape felt, as it gently tugged on his collar. It was Sohalia's invention. She had come to him a few days prior - bundles of cloth trailing from her mouth, and saying something about looking dig-knee-fyed and being hand-sum. Although he bore her tittering and fussing patiently, he had no idea what digging, or hands had to do with his patrolling the Throat. Nevertheless, she had insisted, and soon, a leopard print cape was draped about his shoulders, with a red piece of cloth woven between spikes so that it would lay down his chest. She had called it a t-eye, and said that red brought out his eyes. Bring out from where? he had asked, to which she only laughed, rather than giving an answer.
Women.
Nevertheless, he did like the silken feeling against his chest muscles as they pulsed in pursuit of Oxy, and the soft caress of the cloth against his back as his wings pulled tightly to his sides to aid in his speed.
As the distance between he and Oxy closed, Gaucho remained unaware of the grasses and other "hula" apparel that adorned Oxy's dark body; the caveman's sole focus was on landing his attack, and berating Oxy's shoulder with his own. As flesh collided and a frustrated sound was thrust from his opponents lips, Gaucho too grunted - yet his was a pleased sound. The stallion did not stagger as much as smaller opponents such as Aryel, or even Levi might have - his height and sheer size allowed him to carry on, and yet Gaucho could smell the blood that had been unleashed by his spikes.
Gaucho had anticipated his partner to have shoved him back - to throw his weight around a little - and thus did not slow as quickly as he might have, once Oxy dropped to a trot. Realizing this error too late to completely avoid the attack, Gaucho instead tried to defensively angle his hindquarters inwards to the right, as he began to slow. The relative size of his canter-stride, and Oxy's sudden trot, caused Gaucho's right hip to bear the brunt of Oxy's horns: though luckily, due mostly to the invariability of each of their respective speeds, the horns did not penetrate as far as they might have. Instead, two neat gouges appeared across his dark brown canvas, bleeding slightly, but not slicing through to muscle. With a squeal of pain as his right hind-leg touched the ground, causing the skin to tense and pull at the new wound, Gaucho slowed considerably, wary of his foe's downward pointed blades.
As Oxy threw himself to the left, a move Gaucho had anticipated too early, his mark instead hit closer to Gaucho's right flank - hitting his wing as well. Grunting with dull pain and un-elegantly correcting so as not to be forced farther left and away from his opponent, Gaucho crow hopped with the intent of kicking somewhere at Oxy's left flank, quarter, or thigh depending if the large stallion shied away.
Recalibrating his movements, after being shoved and lashing out, Gaucho once again moved in pursuit. This time however, his movements were more wary - more ready to evade and dodge until...
??????????
Gaucho's gaze narrowed upon the ornaments adorning Oxy's pelt, and a grin began to break across his dark muzzle. Dancing lithely towards Oxy, cape trailing along his back, in almost the same manner as before - trying to stay on Oxy's left, at such an angle as to try and avoid a kick. From his antlers, silvery mists began to pool and bleed - taking the shape of 3 enormous eagle-like shapes. They were easily as big as dogs, as they glided on non-existent breezes. Rising into the air, before diving down aiming to come at Oxy from directly in front, they fanned out slightly trying to crowd the dark stallion. Hoping that this might provide a distraction, Gaucho veered in to the right again, though this time his intent was not to collide with the stallion in quiet the same way. Instead, his teeth lashed out for the string that held the coconut bra on - If this odd gimmick was anything like Gaucho's own cape and t-eye, it would be dishonorable to have them ruined or broken. He tried to grip skin as well as the string, before throwing his head to the left to try and break the costume. As he did this, his body followed, and as Gaucho tried to pull away, his hindquarters swung around, bucking towards Oxy's right flank.
Meanwhile, the spirit eagles tried to drive at Oxy, ghostly talon's outstretched.
[WC: 797
Attack 2/3
Summary: Slows too late and turns his hip in slightly, taking Oxy's slash to his hindquarter. Slowing more, Oxy shoves his right flank, and Gaucho crow-hops in return. After stabilizing, he races after Oxy, using his magic to create 3 spirit Eagles that circle around trying to attack and distract Oxy from the front. Meanwhile, Gaucho tries to tear off the coconut bra from the left side, then turns and bucks.]
As your horns hit their mark, the stallion squeals and you allow yourself a laugh, the gravely sound tainted by blood lust. The crimson liquid staining the end of the black keratin that spirals up to form your horns is exactly what you've been waiting for. Perhaps this hallucination is not so bad after all. You don't get too much time to think about it, though. You've got to deal with the consequences of trying to slam into bone-nose's side.
You've hit him well enough- not exactly where you had in mind but you'll take anything. This hallucination has been nothing but cruel to you, although you can't say you mind too much. There's something about a challenge that gets your blood flowing and makes you feel alive. Since it wouldn't do to lose yourself to thought in this moment, you try to keep focused on the fight. It's just strange to have such a clear mind. With every trotting step you've been taking, your left shoulder has been aching in protest. The slam you make into bone-nose doesn't help with that at all. A new flash of pain soars up your shoulder, causing you to wince away to your right. You're lucky. The sidestep saves you from bone-nose's crow-hopping retaliation. It's a move you didn't even think to prepare for.
As you run, you begin to give thought to your shoulder and how you can protect it. For starters, you switch back to a canter on the right lead. It helps to distribute some of the weight off the shoulder, reducing the pain of impact felt on each stride. Unfortunately, all of the motion and changing speeds has gotten your panties in a bunch. Literally. Your grass skirt has managed to wrap its away around your legs and tail, twisting about until the waistband is tugging at your hips with each stride. Old drug habits die hard, so you begin to freak out. Even though you're pretty sure this is a dream and nothing here is going to hurt you in real life, you can't help but jig and buck around.
Interestingly, your strange dance sends you to the left about the same time that bone-nose starts his pursuit. Using the motion to your advantage, you try to aim one of your childish bucks towards the stallion; it's more a defense than an attack. Of course, the motion doesn't do anything good for your shoulder. Together, your weight and motion tear at your wound, sending a fresh round of blood dripping down and adding to the collection of dirt and grime that already decorates your flesh. Even in your dreams, you can't manage to stay clean.
Then, bone-nose does something you never expect; rather, his horns do. You watch with interest and concern as bone-nose conjures three misty eagles from nowhere. You watch as they rise into the air, giving bone-nose just the distraction he needs. As they come towards you, you can't tell if its the flowers in your ears or the sound of their wings that you're hearing. Either way, its disconcerting. As bone-nose reaches out to bite you, you would really like to bite at his face but the crowding birds have you throwing your head about like a fool. With little resistance from you, bone-nose reaches down and tears the bra off. His teeth rake against your skin and the breaking string pulls against your flesh, giving you a bit of rope burn. Otherwise, you're unharmed. 'Thank the gods,' you think, but there is no time for words.
As the stallion swings around to buck, you retaliate without hesitation. The pain in your shoulder is increasing and you know you must make your move now. Sucking in a breath and gritting your teeth against the pain you expect, you throw your flank into the stallion's buck. At the same time, you reach down to grab and pull roughly at his cape. Two can play at that game. His hooves hit solid, the bruising extensive and immediate. About simultaneously, you feel talons scraping at your right side and you cringe against both of the pains. You suspect the birds' attack was thrown off by your thrust to the left- the pain of their attack is less than you expected.
Still, your lack of defense is not without merit. You intend to use the damp grass and your hopefully unexpected motions to your advantage. The stallion's hooves likely hit sooner than he expected them to. Hardly a second later, you throw your body towards him once more. You hope that he will be significantly unbalanced from the previous two motions you've made. Perhaps, with luck, you may bring him down. You hope this last ditch effort works. It will not come without significant effect on yourself.
Out of the corner of his gaze, Gaucho watched his opponent began to hop and dance about - as if trying to make the grasses adorning his large hind-end, shimmy and shake. A disconcerting thought momentarily took hold of Gaucho's mind, as he wondered if he was meant to be doing the same. Is that what Soh had meant? Was that 'being hand-sum? With a grunt he shook the thoughts from his addled brain, as he tried to remain with his opponent. Sacrificing what would surely ache in the morning, for the glory of taking a possession Gaucho deemed as valuable as his own cape and t-eye, he continued to try and hold his place at Oxy's side. Gaucho exhaled sharply as one of Oxy's distracting bucks hit his hind right gaskin-area. His teeth gnashed together as pain radiated from the area, but if he could pull that necklace-thing from Oxy's shoulders, all would be worthwhile.
Re-aligning himself as intended, with the aid of his ethereal eagles serving as a distraction, Gaucho was able to sidle next to Oxy. As his teeth found purchase on the textile holding the adornment to the dark flesh, Gaucho grunted with pleasure as it tore away with only slight resistance. Still grinning as he pivoted to the left, he lowered his head slightly as his hind end raised up to strike the long flank of his opponent. Suddenly Gaucho's primitive mind began to sound an alarm and try to re-calibrate, as his long-legged buck is stifled far too quickly. The impact of meeting Oxy's thick side so quickly, caused his back to jar and stiffen painfully, and forced his front legs and neck muscles to suddenly try and stabilize his large-self upon the slick terrain.
As his mind considered simply thrusting forward to re-gain complete balance, Gaucho felt a tug against his neck.
CAPE!
The immediate fury he feels at having so lovingly crafted an item in the mouth of anyone other than Soh, resonated through his body. With lightning fast reflexes, Mara acted as an extension of Gaucho, allowing the brute to release his anger in the form of her fangs. As Oxy grabbed hold of the cape, her body lashed out towards his pole. "GAUCHO CAPE" The primitive warrior bellowed through clenched teeth, (for the bra remained firmly held between his white ivories) just as Mara tried to snap her venomous fangs upon soft skin.
As Oxy's body once again oafishly shoved into his own, Gaucho consciously tried to negate his minds insistence on allowing the cape to be damaged, so that he could pull away. SOH he bellowed mentally, in the same way he communicated with Mara, as if the instinctual part of his brain was something that he could reason with. No, he would not allow this dancing bufoon to slobber or tear the printed-cape any more than he already had.
Were Oxy faster, or smaller like the majority of his other opponents, his efforts may have produced a double effect against the bay stallion - however Gaucho's battle-hardened body would not be so easily pushed aside. As Oxy's force insisted that Gaucho's body move, the warrior re-directed the momentum. His right flank took a painful shove, and his already injured right leg willingly yeilded to the bulkier stallions force, swinging Gaucho's hips to the left. All the while, Gaucho tried to keep his shoulders as close to Oxy as possible - so as not to further tug at his cape.
With a grunt of effort once he deemed them more or less perpendicular, Gaucho swung his head - trying to throw the coconut bra directly at Oxy's face, and hopefully force him to release the cape. Then, he tried to lunge forward - somewhat awkwardly however due to footing, and increased pain on his right side - and tried to grate his antlers up the left side of Oxy's neck, and possibly his cheek.
"Gaucho cape" He snarled once again, moving himself to the left. His right hind end was clearly sore, as he allowed himself to pivot to try and remain facing the darker stallion. "And t-eye" He advised menacingly, spreading his black wings and thrusting his chest forward slightly, to draw attention to the red fabric dangling from the front of his spiked-collar.
"You not hand-sum" He snarled, looking at the tattered bra, then back to Oxy. Although he could not see if his cape was torn with his wings outspread, he hoped not. He wanted to be hand-sum for Soh, and if he came back with his cape torn, maybe he would never learn how to bring out his eyes.
[WC: 783
Attack 3/3
Summary: Gaucho takes one of Oxy's bucking hops to his right hind leg. Oxy's shove into his buck strains his back and unbalances him. Though as Oxy shoves again, instead of moving away and possibly tearing his cape, he allows his hind end to be shoved around, and lunges forward, throwing the bra at Oxy and trying to scrape him with his antlers before prancing off. ]
GAUCHO CAPE, your thus-far silent hallucination shouts towards you and your ears turn towards the sound, brushing against the god-forsaken flowers you had almost forgotten were there. Immediately you regret grabbing at his stupid, flapping banner. The snake you had almost come to believe was harmless has lashed out at you, digging her teeth firmly into your neck just behind your pole. You throw your head back in pain and frustration, screaming bloody murder. If you had been in a mind to think straight you would laugh at the idea that the snake might come flying off of the stallion's horns. Instead, your mind is filled with thoughts of fire and burning as the venom seeps into your muscles.
Everything after that happens almost at once and you have a hard time reconciling what is happening. You feel pain that can hardly compete with that in your neck rushing up your shoulder. You've hit him, somewhere. Good. If the pain isn't enough to distract you, you suddenly find your clothing has become a weapon against yourself. The coconut bra flies dangerously close to your face and you throw your head back and to the side just in time to avoid being hit by the stupid thing. In your knee-jerk reaction, however, you forget to keep a hold of the primitive beast's cape.
It is then that you seen the stallion lunging at you, throwing his antlers against you with the fury of the goddess Lyssa herself. Seeing doesn't do you much good if you can't move, though. The sudden appearance of the stallion before you has forced you to an awkward and painful stop. The beaten and bloodied left side of your body is not prepared, in any sense of the word, to push away. You take the full brunt of the attack upon your neck, feeling the familiar rake of keratin on flesh. More tearing, more ripping, more blood. You burn with rage, but something in your head reminds you that you were never meant to win. Your hallucinated opponent had won this battle before you even started because that's how the drugs had wanted it to be.
You stop attacking, clearly favoring your left side. The battle was supposed to release some of the rage you felt at wearing this stupid hula outfit. It's done nothing of the sort. You are aware of being both enraged and defeated, a strange juxtaposition of feelings that leaves you grasping for how to respond. Were this real life, you would simply reach down to your right, grab a vine from your bag and chew until the world disappeared. Unfortunately, your bag isn't there and there are no plants to be seen anywhere. Somehow, you're going to have to reconcile these feelings without the aid of drugs and pharmaceuticals. Or, alternatively, you'll have to find a quick way out of this unwanted dream.
Gaucho cape, bone-nose spits at you once again and you follow his motions with your eyes. You wince backwards as he thrusts his chest out, concerned he's going to come back at you. Instead he's just showing off the adornments that drape his body and you try to relax. Behind your head, the snake's poison still burns into your muscles and you find your head swimming. Perhaps the poison, painful as it is, will be your escape from this terrible nightmare. “No shit,” you spit out in vehement retort to bone-nose's declaration that you are not, in fact, hand-sum. You want to say something else, but you force the words away. There's no need to act like a loser who can't accept his own defeat. You've been bested by a warrior far your superior. You can't imagine how your brain conjured the beast up; however, despite your rage, you make a solemn vow to try and emulate the thing. Someday, you'll be a hurricane force to be reckoned with as well.
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