She had to admit, she was feeling pretty cocky from her spar that had taken place not long ago. Storm was a good fighter, and had reveled many flaws in her system of attacks and defenses, so it was now time to sharpen those skills to perfection.

The day today was wonderful. The sun was shining, and few clouds covered the blue sky. It was one of the places that the wraiths, or darkness as Abishia had called it, had not consumed. The ground was pretty flat, however the darkness of a few rocks concealed them from being seen, quite a disturbance for those who did not catch them with her eye. Other than the few rocks, the land was covered in a lush carpet of grass, cut low, only reached about halfway up a hoof.

A whinny rang to anyone nearby, a call signaling a battle. She was ready to fight again, but this time, her lucky snow was no where to be found. Her blue eyes scanned the area, awaiting the unlucky brute who would answer her call.

"Talking"

[ooc; 0/3 attacks, sunny day, rocks scattered on a grassy flat plain. Magic/Companions allowed. I want Oxy to go first so I can see how the dice system works with attacks. :3]

@[Oxy]

Elsa

You had to get out. You couldn’t stand it anymore. Every day, the same damn thing. Walking around the stony floors, hearing your footsteps echo off the stony walls, watching the light shine through cracks in the stony ceiling… it’s enough to drive a man crazy. Not that you need any help in that department. They didn’t shove you into the ranks of the Asylum and leave you there for nothing. Nope, you’re a bona fide addict. Or… you’re trying to be. Kind of hard when the stupid DARKNESS has swallowed everything. Not that you’re bitter or anything. Nope, not bitter at all.

As you step outside the cavern you can’t help but feel like the day is mocking you. Your body is just starting to adjust to the limited amount of locoweed and this rebirth into the mainland is like reliving your detoxification all over again. The sun makes you squint and gives you a headache. The cool autumn breeze makes you shiver. The transition from rock to grass makes you slip. Even the cold sweats are there, as you look around nervously in anticipation of some wraith coming to attack you. But, just like with detox, all symptoms fade in time, and eventually you are left in the autumn air to just be Oxy.

Still, as well as your body is adjusting- to detox and the autumn weather- your brain is not. The plants aren’t just some play toy for you. They’re not simply there so you have an excuse to be an asshole. You’re definitely a jerk without them. No, without the plants, you’re something far worse- a man with memories he doesn’t want. They plague you day and night, hidden images you never wanted to return. They make you cringe, moan and groan. And you try so hard to fight them off, but your companion, seemingly hell bent on making your life even more miserable, often repeats the memories she has seen in your mind, bringing them back full force.

For the most part, in punishment, you keep the boggart shoved in your shoulder bag, flap shut tight, a little monster hidden away in the darkness. You’re still convinced there’s nothing good about her except for that she irritates Ampere. But is it really worth it? You’re beginning to think not but it doesn’t matter what you think. Even if you open your bag to let the boggart float about, she won’t go away. You’ve told her to leave, even; that her purpose is fulfilled. But you sense a determination within her- something you don’t understand. Whatever it is, she won’t go. Stupid thing.

A battle cry breaking the silence of the autumn air catches your attention and you suddenly forget your worries. Like Pavlov’s dogs, you are trained. The battle cry is your dinner bell; the familiar itch to destroy is your saliva. You pick up a trot, head towards the origin of the sound, and when you see her all you can do is bark out a nasty noise that almost resembles a word. “YOU!” Elsa might simply take it as some weird form of recognition, but it goes so much deeper than that. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before. The gentlest prod from your companion’s mind sends you whirling back down memory lane, even as your hooves begin to churn into a canter.

In your head, you see Kellian, a familiar face so long gone you thought she would never return. But there she is anyways, a perfect replica of Elsa, save the little snowflake marking. A cremello quarter horse with big wings, just a little big shorter than you, and accents all along her body, although Kellian’s were green instead of blue. Close enough. She was supposed to be a friend. She was supposed to be there for you and… Some friend she turned out to be.

Then there is poor Elsa, caught in the crossfire of your hate-fueled memories. This is why you need the drugs, to bury away these painful thoughts that resurface every chance they get. With no regard for your safety, you crash toward her, aiming for her left side, if she doesn’t move. You don’t even plan, you simply run. Screw the wings, screw her hooves, you are an avalanche of hate on this sunny day, intent on smothering the mare in her beloved snow. For good measure, when you think you’re close, you reach to the left with an open mouth, trying to bite her neck, or anything else within reach. Your addled mind has begun to mingle Elsa and Kellian into one, to forget there is a larger war effort going on, that you should not mangle the poor girl or yourself to death. You want revenge. Let her suffer.

Words: 798
Post: 1/3
OOC: Now you wait for somebody to roll dice for us in our rolling thread (I made it for us). You’ll base your response on how much damage is dealt to Elsa.

The day was quite normal compared to any other day. That was, until Mr. Crackface showed up. He just simply said “You”. It wasn’t a normal “You” though; it had some sort of underlying meaning to it. One she couldn’t pick up, but it certainly wasn’t friendly. No one screams at a friend.

Momentary fear consumed her, as she stood motionless for a few seconds. She watched as the large, creepy ass Oxy ran at her. It was like the fear all over again. The mobs, everything, it flashed in her eyes. She was back in her kingdom, the smell of musty straw, rotting apples, and compacted dirt. She was crouched behind a large boulder just outside of the kingdom, hiding and hoping. From the corner of her vision she noticed a large stallion, much like Oxy scream in wild ferocity at her sight.

She couldn’t go back though, not now. Not as Oxy was attempting to plow into her. He veered slightly to her left, and she tried to go right, with a little rear, but all in vain. Gross, disgusting, drug filled yellow teeth clamped down on the soft pinch of skin where her neck and left shoulder met. Elsa screamed. The pain was a lot worse than she had anticipated. Her eyes blistered with tears as he pulled away, tearing some hair of her thickening coat. Where the hair had been pulled small droplets of blood escaped her body, staining the hair around the wound a rusty color. A large, purpling bruise was also quickly to follow, signaling the damage.

Now she knew what it felt like to be his drugs, his locoweed. The way he probably gnawed at them with such ferocity, just trying to get relief. She almost felt bad for Oxy at that moment, wondering what type of personality lied under that euphoria-like façade. He didn’t seem to care though, and she could never help unless he asked- BUT DAMN THAT BITE WAS HURTING. In the midst of her thoughts his teeth had scraped over the left side of her neck and back over the previous injury, bringing her back to reality. It didn’t affect her much; her mind was much to focused on the previous injury- the one that hurt like hell. Why did he have to be a draft, like seriously, why couldn’t he be a tiny mouthed pony?

As quickly as her sympathy for him had come, it was gone. In fact, a new rage was reborn within her. A gargled grumble rumbled deep within her chest cavity. She reared up, and pivoted slightly on her hips to face him. Her crystal hooves flailed, trying to hit him in the face. She aimed to take out his horns, poke an eye, or maybe bop out a few teeth. Maybe she could stop his habit by taking away the very things he needed to process it. That would be quite a sight, a toothless Oxy wandering around like maniac desperately trying to create some kind of loco-puree. Either way she was just praying he would feel pain. She couldn’t lose this either; she needed to prove her worth, not only to him, but also to the rest of the Asylum. She needed to prove she was here to stay, and to impact them in a way they would never expect.

[1/3; 558 Words]
[Awesome thank you! <3]

"Talking"

Elsa

You suppose that you should have better planned the whole ramming into Elsa thing. She steps to the side with ease, avoiding your barreling chest that could have inflicted so much pain. What she doesn't avoid is your teeth, which clamp down aggressively. The taste of fur in your mouth as you pull back is enough to make you smile, enough to make you pleased, but it's not enough to sate you. Your lust for revenge only grows, your heart only pumps faster. Kellian deserves more, deserves agony, deserves death if you can give it to her. And give it to her you would, given the chance. Nevermind that this is your herdmate, Elsa.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elsa rear, turning towards you. If you'd stopped moving you might have taken hooves to the face, but you never even slowed. Still, being a draft, your canter is not fast. Elsa's hooves catch the very hind end of your rump as you pass, tearing at your tender flesh and making you scream- a terrible sound, but not all because of the pain. You're enraged. You let Kellian- no, Elsa- hit you, bruise you even. You can feel it, the slow pulsing of blood as it rushes to the site of injury, the way the muscles stiffen, the way pain comes to your brain in waves of nerve impulses. You bite your teeth against the assault, grind them, lay your ears back. How dare she.

As soon as you can manage, you skid to an awkward stop, lowering your head and bucking out. Your metal horseshoes glint in the Orangemoon sun as you try to reach for Kel- Elsa. You suppose, if your hooves are able to make contact and if Elsa doesn't move, that you'll hit her somewhere around the junction of wing and shoulder. But you don't consider it too much. Your left shoulder is burning as you cause a flare up an old injury from the mysterious gray bitch that bested you. You're not agile, not made for trying to stop so quickly, and you're reaping the consequences. Briefly, memories of that feeling of fire eating your shoulder interrupt your rage; however, a gentle reminder from your companion about Kellian gets you back on track. Funny. It's like the little boggart wants you enraged. As your hind limbs touch the ground again, you have a noticeable limp on your left front side. You could really go for some of your locoweed right about now.

In an attempt to shift some weight off of your left shoulder, you make a wide turn to the right at a trot, coming back towards where you think Elsa should be. The one thing you don't stop doing is moving. If you stop moving, your anger might morph from hatred to something else... a broken heart. But you don't want that to happen, because you don't- no, can't- feel like you owe her something. Because you don't want to miss her, you don't want to want her again. You want to hate her, to rip her to shreds, to make her feel every ounce of pain that she caused you. Can physical pain ever make up for the mental anguish she put you through? You're not sure but you'll try.

You remember the trial now that your mind is free of your plants. You stood before the council, surrounded by the king's best men, decked out in their best armor. You were stripped of your chest plate, your chain mail, your dignity. They were accusing you of things you never did- could never do if you wanted to. The death of the king's brother. You were a warrior, but no murderer. Not then. And Kellian. She stood off to the side, watching the whole thing, the best and only friend you had in the whole world. She was beautiful, the only one who had stood beside you after you fell to your drug habit. She had been there through every high and low, every trip and fall you had ever made. She knew it was an accident, knew it was a mistake, that you had ever gotten into that patch of weeds. She also knew you were innocent.

In a flash, you're back on the field, your mind not sure how to handle its lack of drugs, blending and mixing images to such a degree that you hardly understand what's going on. But you think you see Elsa, and you know you feel fury and you know you want Kellian dead. So you keep trying to move towards her, to close the distance even though you know she'll probably attack. Unbeknownst to you, your boggart slips from her spot in your shoulder bag. She has plans of her own.

Words: 800
Post: 2/3

In her flailing, massively awkward kicking, she managed to at least get his hind end. Although she would’ve preferred teeth, because that image in the back of her mind of a toothless Oxy was just so amusing; She could live with the possibility of him having a really sore ass. The scream that he admitted just brought the smallest, smuggest look to her face. She wanted him to feel the pain, to feel the wrath. She wanted him to walk home wishing there was snow to numb his pain.

Elsa hit the ground. The hard, cool ground that would not give way to the force of her weight. The junction between her shoulder and neck, where she had been bit, screamed at the rough movement of her shoulder. Elsa’s white ears, for the first time in a long time, had the indecency to fall against her head. She had never done that! That was such a sign of pain and annoyance! What a fool she was, she was never supposed to let her opponent know what she was feeling, especially one who had the advantage! Sure he wasn’t fast but he was one hell of a draft, and a strong one at that!

His movement continued, and they were forming a near right angle. A glint of light exploded the corner of her eye, as she just regained her footing from the landing. There wasn’t enough time to move, but she wasn’t about to be a flightless bird. She needed these. In a swift motion she moved her wings into the air, and did another small rear, not nearly to the height she had reached before. His hooves, metal freaking hooves, met just below where her wing and body attached on her left side. Damn, she was starting to be wrong about Oxy’s ability… and she really needed to start going to the right when taking hits. At this moment of suspended time, she knew she looked like an idiot. Her wings were all the way up, exposing them like a mentally unstable cockatoo. All she needed now was a nice head-bob and she might attract a nice cockatoo mate. To bad she lacked a yellow crest, maybe that was something she should look into getting after this.

She could feel the pulse of her climbing heart rate where his hooves connected with her body. She wasn’t that abashed by it, she was just happy she no longer looked like a cockatoo and she wasn’t getting kicked in her previous wound. One more hit to that thing and she would be in trouble.

She noticed that Oxy had taken to his right, circling around. Thank god he was not on the fast side, it gave her a few moments longer to calculate his movement, and figure out how she could better incapacitate him. Maybe it was a flaw, but Elsa liked to ensure that she would have the best possible moment for attack.

He was obviously turning right, so that meant that he was coming, flashing his right side for her. She turned on her own, a tighter, more compact circle due to her breeding. She cantered at him and in a calculated attempt, hopefully met near his front end. She reached out with her teeth, and aimed to bite the flesh along his body as he moved by, reaching mostly for the jugular. Or maybe she would take his breath away. I mean, she was the prettiest thing since… well ever.

Her eyes were so focused, and so intent, that even if she had tried, Elsa would’ve never noticed the black, floating, Boggart-thingy that had slipped out of his drug satchel. It was just so hard to notice everything! Keeping everything under control was not her strong suite, and it most certainly was the epicenter of her failure as a queen. If she had not been so caught up, so distracted, maybe she would still be home. Home was where she wanted to be, but it seemed that could never be. Her kingdom was gone, lost to her, buried in the past. As much as she wanted it back, she could never return. So Oxy had to be shown that she meant business, and she was here to thrive. She wasn’t going to be run out again.




[2/3; wc: 720]
"Talking"

Elsa

If you weren't so lost in your thoughts of Kellian and revenge, of history and days gone wrong, you might have been pleased that you hit the girl so soundly, that your hooves contacted her flesh with such a resounding thud. But you can't revel, you can't rejoice. Your brain won't let you have peace, won't let you know what is real and what is fake. You're lost in an absurd mixture of realities both past and present and you're drowning in your rage and your fury. Will you be able to swim your way to the shore, to crawl from this misery, to find what is truth and what is illusion? You'd like to, but you think you need this. It's a therapy, of sorts.

Just as you thought she might, the girl turns and begins to run towards you, a canter you'd like to match but you doubt that the rekindled injury in your shoulder will let you. So you just trot, limping on the limb like a fool, but watching the mare, two mares in one, close the distance. You don't know what she's going to do, but you tense your muscles, ready to try anything. Any hit is good, any damage is better. She may make you cringe, may make your rump protest at the swollen muscles along its midline, make your shoulder scream bloody murder, but if there is one thing she won't do, it's best you.

Your heart pumps your blood, beating faster and faster from the exertion and excitement, the sound filling your ears, adding an eerie overtone to the fight. Your body is sweating, damp patches making you look mottled. The dirt that would normally cover your hide is gone, replaced with the finer, grainier dust from the caves. You are a monster to behold, and a monster to know.

As Elsa closes down upon you, you try to keep your body so it is parallel to hers, so that your right side and hers will pass by one another. A plan begins to form in your mind. She reaches out, but you don't even try to defend it. She grabs flesh, the right side of your neck, teeth scraping and tearing as she canters. Blood begins to trickle down, your skin twinging and protesting at this new type of pain that has found it. You're lucky she didn't grab your jugular, didn't pull at the flesh over the vein and cause it to rupture. This pain is bad, but it could be so much worse. You wince, cringe, bite your teeth, but you know what is about to come and you try to stay focused, or as focused as you can considering the chaos that's your reality.

And then, all at once, almost at the same time as Elsa bites you, you and your companion burst into a flurry of motion. You've been so focused on your rage, so lost in your memories, that you haven't paid a bit of attention to what your boggart is doing, but she's been paying attention to you. She tries to swoop down in front of Elsa's face, morphing for the briefest moment into a dragon with flared wings, but your mind is so unfocused and she is so young that she has a hard time keeping the image. She hopes it is enough, though, to cause Elsa to slow down, to help you in your attack. As for you, you bite your teeth down and lunge to your right.

Your left leg screams in displeasure at this new form of torture you're exposing it to, but what is a leg if it means Kellian's death, what is your leg if it means that Kellian will fall to the ground and weep, begging for mercy, crying that you should kill her now instead of dragging it out. You're trying to ram your right shoulder into Elsa's... anything, really. Her sides, her wings, her rump, anything. You hope, at the speed she's moving, that a simple bump will be enough to cause her to stumble, to trip and fall.

In your head, the trial returns, the elders demanding evidence when you claim you're innocent of the crime. You look to Kellian, searching for her eyes, trying to reach them. She knows. She was with you last night, she has to tell them. But she only looks away, to the dirt, as the captain of the guard comes up beside her, lipping at her mane. Her mate. She has been stolen from you. Your heart broke then, and it breaks again now, because the two most important things in your life will be yours no longer. Your friend and your home. The elders scream guilty and banish you to the wastelands. She never even says goodbye.

Words: 800
Post: 3/3

Best you she will, or at least try. She wasn’t exactly the one to be sure of herself.

Her teeth met the right side of his neck. It was such an invigorating feeling, although the feeling was quickly dashed. She had bit at his right side, and a tinge of metallic taste filled her mouth. Wonderful, now she had druggie filled blood in her. She probably was in the process of contracting crazy. As she cantered, nearly parallel to him now, she spit the little bit of coat and blood that had tainted her mouth. It was just so… revolting! Eating his bodily fluids in any way shape or form was NOT on the top of her to-do list. It was just creepy to think that Oxy was kind of sort of inside of her. She shivered at the thought.

For a few moments, they were running parallel as she tried in vain a few more times to bite at him, and she was met with air. So Elsa stops, just stops. Her big ass finally has a use now. She curled it gently under the rest of the body, sending her whiteness to a sliding stop. Small bits of debris went flying in front of her, but the mostly thick ground kept it solid. As she does this, a small little black ball swoops down in front of her. It must be Oxy’s little companion thing he hates so much- although it was not in its usual wisp form. Flashes of a dragon appeared. Large pearly teeth aimed at her face, a low grumble coming from the thing. Large wings were spread, tipped with deadly bones. Greenish, acidic looking scales armored the creature. A tongue dipped in and out of its face as if trying to taste her scent, to consume her by consuming the air she breathed. In fear, she veered more to her right, slightly jarring her front shoulders from the sudden direction change. She could feel the now rusty looking bump that was by her neck. It stung, and screamed for mercy. The wings, which she nearly almost relied on to keep balance, shifted ever so slightly with her. The bruise on her left side from the kick pulsed. Once again, she could feel her heartbeat reverberating throughout that area. It wasn’t painful, but it was not exactly the most comfortable thing ever. She kept moving, hopefully, parallel to Oxy, thanks to his companion.

She was too caught up in the boggart to even notice what had happened with Oxy. There was no clatter of teeth coming from him. There was no large thud where his big hooves would have landed. There was not a sound. How eerie it was. In truth, there had never truly been sound except for an occasional scream or grunt. So all this time, the two of them had been silent, just, beating this shit out of each other. It was quite an odd concept. She remembered how her spars had gone. From every direction her trainers were screaming moves. Like a mechanical robot she was expected to hear, digest and carry it out. Just like an enzyme, she could not move unless given orders and she was only there to catalyze the reaction. To them, she truly did not understand, she was just a show. She remembered the way Ana would giggle at their fights, watching and rearing in her own anticipation for the attacks. Maybe that’s all she was to them, a nice sideshow to keep Ana occupied. Well, how to you like it now? What would Ana think about her fighting a commoner, and taking on the real world? Such an odd concept she would have to dwell on later. Inside she was torn so apart by this; was everything there truly fake, was everything just an act?

Never mind that now, Elsa had to finish. Sweat dewed gently on her pale body; the salty fluid causing more stings to her neck wound. Oxy had never hit her, and she could not put two and two together that his own companion had aided her dodge. She wasn’t going to wait around for him to attack her. Although she knew her left side would be in pain, but she had to take him out with a final move. He would have to respect her. With the force of her canter, she tried to drive her shorter, bonier, shoulder into his girth. She hoped this would cause him to trip and fall. At the movement, her shoulder screamed, but it was worth it. Maybe, someone would bow for her again, and revel in her past glory. She would be reborn.


[ 3/3; 780 words]
[ooc; I just want to hug and love Oxy forevers. ;_; and thanks for the wonderful fight! I would love for them to thread afterwards again if you are up for it? Maybe he could give her tips or they could just thread and see what happens?]
"Talking"

Elsa

You lunge to the right, but get only air, the sacrifice on your leg all for naught. You're as pathetic now as you were then, a mass of flesh and bones with the universe against you. It's no wonder you seem to fail every time you step onto a battlefield. You scream that you want to be general, you howl that you bleed and fall for your Asylum, but when the going gets tough, you just get lost in your mind. You're nothing, a worm in the ground, being trampeled on by every passerby and shaken to the surface every time in rain. You can't even keep it together long enough to get in three good hits.

Yes, you missed... but your broken heart doesn't care.

As Elsa comes back at you, driving for one final attack, you just keep trotting, moving, anything, trying to get away. The illusion is gone. Whatever ideas you had that you were great, whatever notion you had that you were exacting revenge on Kellian has flown away, into the air. Your mind comes back to you in your failure, as if wanting you to wallow in your pathetic reality. You see Elsa coming back towards you, from the corner of your eye, but you no longer feel a raging desire to destroy everything that she is. You just want to leave, to get out of here, to go hide in some dark corner of the Sanctuary that you were so spiteful of just minutes ago.

Her shoulder presses into your right ribs and you grunt, but your mass against her smaller frame is no contest. You bobble, perhaps a little to the side, but the primary damage is bruising that begins to form in what little bit of muscle you have overlying your ribs. You flick your tail in annoyance and shake your head, but you don't have the heart to do anything else. You are done.

Limping away, you try to leave Elsa behind, hoping that she'll figure out you want to be alone. You've got some feelings to short out- some that fighting just doesn't seem to be helping.

Behind you, the little black wisp of a companion follows, obedient as ever, despite your lack of instructions. You only hope that she has the decency to leave you to your musings, in this moment. If she prods at you as she is so fond of doing, if she pokes the wrong sore spot in some sort of childish game... you just might go mad.

WC| 426
Post: Defense