the Rift

Burn it down

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan
"We're soldiers in a war and none of us are backing down
And I will show you victory is mine before we leave this battleground
'Cause you don't wanna leave, and I don't wanna go
And I know just how this battle goes
You don't wanna leave and I don't wanna fight this kind of war...

- Jay Sean

"Hahahahahahaha....." A smooth voice rippled in the wind like black silk, a tattered strip of once beautiful laughter that now had reached a level of taint so deep that it was hard to say whether it would ever become clean again. It was a sound of water rushing inside the lungs of a drowning, fire licking clean the blackened bones of a charred carcass, of maggots in bloated flesh where a white-hot sun had stripped away all illusions of life and vigour...

The sound of its own voice aroused the creature almost as much as the fire that crackled behind it, crimson flames licking the ashen wasteland and igniting the remnants of life that had been coaxed into existence. It laughed as it danced in the wreckage of this car-crash of a world, sleek form glimmering as light bounced away from obsidian scales and lustfully caressed the razor-sharp thorns protruding from each joint. The disease and madness that had encased the creature once known as Lace didn't have quite the same effect on it as it had on others like it - flesh didn't rot as easily from this horridly beautiful form, this entrancing devil who walked the earth on dragons claws, ripping the world asunder beat by leather-winged beat. No, this being, this accursed existence didn't feel sick and painful and clawed asunder from within by malicious hatred - it THRIVED.

Power oozed from its being as if all chains and locks on possessed sorcery had been ripped asunder. Roots and shoots of dormant plants grew like weed before its feet only to die down under the force of blackening rot, or burned as explosions from swirling orbs of fire erupted again, and again, and again. It laughed as scales and skin and flesh burned off the shoulders and hips, moaning in pleasure at the pain and the sensation of meat knitting itself together once more...

It was invincible. It was indestructible. The world was its playground and it was the ruler of all... and as those glowing yellow eyes took in the dead world it felt the greed and desire for MORE rise like bile in its throat, and with a scream so shrill it might rip the drums of mortal beings asunder it called out into the night, for others to come and bow before it - only then would it be contented. Maybe.

Lace's appearance: obsidian scales cover the entire body, his mane and tail hair has fallen off. The tail is elongated and running along the entire spine as well as jutting from all joints are sharp spikes. He have dragon feet with claws, the mouth have split open all the way up to the jaw joint and he has a full set of crocodile teeth. He have leather wings, but they are too small to carry him in the air. Eyes are cat-slitted, yellow and glowing. Basically, he looks like a disgusting, very wrong half dragon.

Judged spar, 3 posts + closing defense. No companions, magic allowed. No time limit, we keep going until it is finished. Setting; dark wasteland, there is a red sun in the sky mostly blocked by drifting clouds. Wind coming from the north, Lace heading south.

Stat + Roll

there's .b l o o d. and .g o r e. on the floor
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
power loves not the light of day

From somewhere in the depths of your memory, the name comes to you. DarkEmpress, the wind whispers as it caresses your shoulders, twines through the spines along your nape. DarkEmpress, the weeds exalt as your bloody, broken hooves traipse aimlessly among them. DarkEmpress. You are the DarkEmpress. You are darkness. You are salvation. You are terror. You are greatness. You are all that this world may come to know and need, and you will bring those living in the light to their proper place as your servants in the dark. This you have promised the imagined masses that gathered before you, cheering your name, chanting your title to the heavens and the absent gods that fled before your glory. For you are the DarkEmpress, the Ruler of All, the Exalted One...

You lurk among the shadows, your black body blending effortlessly, the perfect accent to your black soul. Your eyes are deep, soulless pits, set in the surfacing skull and lacking their famous amber glow. There is only darkness there now, but somehow that is as unsettling as your orange gaze was - it seems like many moons ago, and for all you know it may be, but somewhere deep down, you know that it was not so long ago that you were well, and whole, and different. An angry laugh bubbles forth, spewing spittle and blood into the dying bushes before you. You were becoming weak. No more.

The ground flattens ahead, and an answering cackle floats on the wind. At first you think that it is only an echo of your glorious tones, but it does not end, does not fade, and it is then that the stallion catches your eye. Oh, how horrid he looks, all teeth and spikes and wings - but it is alluring, and you find yourself drawing closer, admiring the strength that is the stallion. You imagine you must look disheveled next to his reptilian glory, but no matter - you will prove your worth, even before he has challenged you. "Why, darling!" you squeal, excitement permeating your honeyed vocals. "What a wonderful costume! You simply must show me how it works." A feral grin splits your features, oddly wide and gleaming now that your bone is all that shows. You don't think it will frighten him, though.

You dance to the side, your movements an awkward, stumbling sashay to the right. The wind blows into your face and you relish the feeling. DarkEmpress, it insists, and you are determined to prove yourself. You grow closer, closer, attempting to approach at a subtle angle towards the stallion's left side. Your first attack comes in the form of clacking teeth attempting to clamp onto the steed's left wing and yank; you wheel to continue the motion whether the attack hits or not, and as you push yourself into a lazy canter away, you strike out with your hind legs, aiming for the left side of the face or neck. Is he ready to play? You are.

[Wraith Appearance: Psyche's body has taken on the appearance of a rotting corpse. Her right foreleg is almost entirely bone and muscle, the flesh and skin having begun to slough off. Her left hing leg is covered in blood which continuously seeps from a large gash along her left hindquarter, but is largely intact. The wound crawls with maggots. Her face is perhaps the most changed, as the majority of it has 'melted' away, leaving the top line of her head as only skull. Her eye sockets are empty. Large clumps of mane have fallen out or been torn away, and long, needle-thin, venomous spines have begun to grow back in its place. Her tail is a bloody stump; one may assume that it has been chewed off.]

[Attack: 1/3 | Closing Defense: 0/1]

"Talk talk talk."

in darkness is where it thrives
Image Credits
[Image: psycheicon.png]

Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
@[Lace] @[Psyche]

What is the status of this battle?
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan
Also underway, same reasons as before. :)
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Battle defaulted to Psyche. No VP awarded due to wraith sparring.

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