the Rift


[JUDGED] Nothing ever lasts forever [Tyradon challenge]

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#1


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

So, the sly bitch thought that she could change over the guard without Arah noticing? Tough luck. It hadn't worked. It ended now. It was time that the silver doe and her two snow touched children headed home, to The Basin, where they belonged. As a mother, Arah had to protect her cubs. They had been stolen because she'd hadn't kept them on a tight enough leash, that would change as soon as they returned to The Basin. Now they had regained their strength, Arah wanted to begin the journey home. Of course this would mean that they had to challenge for their freedom first. Looking over the sleeping twins, Arah slipped away silently. They would be safe here, out of sight and out of mind. They did not need to see this, they did not need anymore horrific visions haunting their nightmares. It was Arah who would take the pain, scars and have to learn to live with the consequences. The ivory doe was terrified, yet anger also fuelled her. It burned deep within her soul, someone had attacked her family and someone was going to pay. The hammer of justice would sooner or later fall on this heinous bitch, but for now she would deal with this dog. Looking around for their insane new guard, Arah wanted to begin this fight now. Before she lost her nerve, before she gave up hope. The Impersonator believed that The Basin was aware of her little family's disappearance. She wanted to believe that they were out searching for her and her babies, but this damsel in distress was tired of waiting. Time to take matters into her own control.

""It's time." Her normally gentle voice mixed with the wind, filled with disgust, rage and a hint of confidence. For she had done this dance before, perhaps she was not as skilled as the one she was about to face, but this mumma bear was prepared to face the one who seemed determined to ruin her girls. Practice would prove useful now, the knowledge she had learnt from expedience, lessons and watching others battle. The chill in the air nipped at her exposed coat, the snow swirled around her warm body. Beside her the stream trickled by, it's outer bank crusted in a light layer ice. The ice would probably crush under hoof but would be rather slippery. Unstable and definitely not safe, Arah took note. Her eyes raised to the snow that swirled around her and took one last moment to collect her nerves. It may be the calm rage before the storm, that filled her now, but the uncertainty still remained. ""I'm challenging for the freedom of myself and my girls." Her cry would either be answered or the three unicorns would slip away into the shadows, never to be seen again.

" "
Words :: 472 [800 max] Post :: [0 | 4] Setting :: Ancient Rotunda, light snow fall, snow is ankle height, slight chill in the air.

- Double checked I was allowed to do this!
- Official challenge.
- 4 posts and defense.
- Magic and Companion allowed.
- 800 words max.
- Tyradon may attack first.
- Challenging for the freedom of Arah, Arwen and Asch.



@[Tyradon]
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#2
The challenge for Seele is not complete. A completed challenge is a judged challenge. Until a judgment is posted, Arah and the twins are in Tyradon's possession, meaning that this challenge is, in fact, valid.

The 72 hour timer will reset from this post. Tyradon has 72 hours to respond, or the challenge will be defaulted to Arah.

Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#3


I DON'T FOLD UP AND I DON'T BOW

Rage.

His self-control has been impressive, by his own reckless standards. He has guarded the mare and her mongrel brats for Nieque knows how long now, and they are all still alive. Oh, he has been tempted - every time he looks at those foul antlers, every time he is reminded of the unicorn warlock who took his magic and of the boiling racism that sears in his veins from long before that, he has wanted to see the mutt mare's brains splattered like a broken promise up his feathered legs - wanted to see her face as Cynder eats her children from the outside in, leaves them screaming. But he resisted, because they are Confutatis' prisoners, not his; he has shown admirable constraint. And how does the vermin repay his generosity? By challenging him for her freedom.

It looks like he will get his chance to rain his fury down on her, a blizzard of hatred. She will burn for him.

The snow sucks at his massive legs as the warmaster moves towards his challenger, eyes blazing like chips of molten ice. "Kill her," he says aloud, his words addressed to his jade war-dragon who screams her delight - Tyradon can communicate with Cynder through his mind alone, but he wants Arah to hear his words; primal, psychological warfare. "And make it hurt," he adds to the emerald reptile, who leaves her perch on his scarred back to circle around above the two fighters. Already the behemoth is darting his gaze across her body, noting her size and build; she is over two hands smaller than him, slim and, to his mind, frail. She is an insect beneath his hoof; a creature fit only to crush. He thinks the surroundings will favour her more, though, as his gargantuan frame sinks easily into the thick snow and he feels it tugging at his muscles, testing every ounce of strength he possesses. The mare and her featherlight feet will likely not suffer as much from the resistance as Tyradon himself - but he will have an advantage on the icy ground, as his heavy, platelike hooves increase his surface area and thus his grip on the white carpet below. Sweat beads his neck and between the cavern of his thighs, freezing as it makes contact with the frigid air and giving him a silvery, ghostly sheen, accentuating every heaving muscle and tightened sinew.

He will break her.

He charges her, aiming to approach her left side in T-shape. Ears lace into his mane, slatelike gaze fixed on the smaller body of his opponent as he arrests his momentum and turns on his forehand, swinging his massive frame around the pivot of his front hooves in the hope of bringing his hind end to face her. He throws his weight forwards, hindlegs sprawling out from beneath his thick rump, kicking out once, twice, with his heavily feathered hooves aiming to crash into Arah's left ribcage. He puts every ounce of force he possesses into the attack, wanting to feel her ribs shatter beneath the impact - he wonders how pretty she would be with blood bubbling from her throat, pushed forth from pierced lungs. His muscular neck ducks between his forelegs as he kicks, ensuring he puts every iota of his back's rippling strength into his attempt to decimate the little rat girl, break her.

Simultaneous to Tyradon's attack, Cynder releases a serpent's scream and dives like an avenging angel from the heavens above. She aims for Arah's face - her legs splay, wings slowing her as she seeks to latch onto the mare's features from the front. Her right forepaw seeks to sink its viciously curved talons into her left eye, whilst her left paw aims for the right eye - she wants to paint the horned girl in her own blood into her own twisted vision of perfection, use her as the canvas for her macabre art. Her jaws do not sit idle, either, and open wide to spew a white-hot torrent of flame towards Arah's forehead, aiming for the area between her horns - she hopes to set the harlot's forelock and forehead afire, to watch as strips of flesh peel like cooked meat from her skull.

The warmaster and his war-dragon fight in perfect harmony; it's a dance, their mental bond thrumming with energy as each picks up on the bubbling hatred of the other. Cynder's mind has spent eight years being twisted by her bonded's strong opinions, her consciousness crushed into accepting Tyradon's racist way of life. The mare she is attacking is not a sentient creature, a living being with children and feelings; she is meat, she is prey.

____________________

Good luck! <3

775 words

1/4

Summary: Charges towards Arah's left side, turns and tries to kick out twice with his hindlegs at her ribcage. Cynder tries to land on her face, gouge out both her eyes and set fire to her.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#4


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

The sliver doe knew her opponent would not flee for safety, but neither would she. Arah let his words bounce off her skin, the vicious mutterings of the mad did not concern her at all. Her heart raged for two daughters, and the harm that had come to them. She would not bend. She would not break. She had to admit to herself, however, that this size, weight and the combination of a magical companion was quite impressive, and rather intimidating. The dark stallion wasn't too graceful in his movements, but he was easy to predict. This is where Arah's height and speed would become handy, and her rather elegant movements make her defensive thoughts more difficult to predict. Finally this fight was about to kick off, when her guard suddenly leapt into action, Arah was prepared. Forward he charged, coming towards her left hand side, full of rage and battle fury.
Arah was just as pumped. There was no way, this idiot would march on top of her, that was not how this was going to be. The stallion's hind legs raise, aligned with her ribs, the doe is forced to act. In a hasty attempt to protect her breakable bones, she leaps forward (she had to protect her ribs, her heart...her soul). With ears pinned to her crown, the mare screamed her pain as the stallion's hooves pounded into her fleshy rump.

Her entire left hand side explodes in pain, but it is without an ounce of fear— as Arah looks up at the dragon swooping down, a smirk crosses her face. It's scream alerts her to the impending attack. Attempting to maintain her composure, the sliver doe for a moment, ignores the large stallion. Out of her peripheral vision, she see's his hooves descending onto her left hand side a second time. Diving, the dragon's claws make a direct course for her eyes. Trapped between the stallion and the dragon, Arah tucks her head into her chest. Once again, pain radiates throughout her rear as the stallion's hooves meet her flesh. Animalistically, she screams in pain and in battle fury. Ducking her head under the dragon's claws, she feels it's talons bite into her flesh. Their final landing point is luckily above her eyes and they just miss her ears. Still the attack is vicious enough that blood is soon trickling down to her white checks. The sound of breath being drawn, the doe does not have to look up to know that fire is coming. Turning her head to the right, and withdrawing her head once again into her chest, the burst of dragon flame hits the end of her muzzle. The hairs singe away, flesh burns in the fiery breath of the companion. Nothing but a moan escapes, her throat is raw from the previous screams that ripped through her. Now, however, she is ready to return the pain. Golden eyes shoot up, too look upon and within the dragon's eyes; within her soul, Arah calls upon her magic.

Her hindquarters ache, face stings...burns, but her concentration is true. As soon as she summons her abilities, it sparks to life inside her. So you like you lizard burring things? Lets see how you like it. Savagely her lips peel back, as she sends her magic over the dragon, her golden eyes locked onto it's flying from. Attempting to wedge yourself into someone else's brain is no easy task, the lizard's brain was no different. It was vexing, yet she forced and shoved as hard as she could. 'Burn your master, set his mane alight.' A straight and clear command. She is not finished in her relation however. Their bodies remained in a close proximity, she would return the favour of pain. True, her aching hind was causing her be slower than what she would have liked but she would work through it...work with the pain. In fact the psychical pain reminded her of what she fought for. Her girls.
The brute's body was behind, an open target. Springing into action Arah whipped her neck and upper body around to the left, still partly focusing on sending her controlling magic over the lizard. Twisting around in the snow, the doe had agility to aid her in the attack. Now all she focused on was the guard's rear right thigh, she planned to stab her antlers into his leg. The barbs would catch and rip the skin, the antlers would pierce and inflict serious pain...she hoped. Her antlers got closer as her neck stretched out, she tucked her head into her chest and took aim.

" "
Words :: 772 [800 max] Post :: [1 | 4]
Edit because a part of my coding messed up.
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#5


I DON'T FOLD UP AND I DON'T BOW

They dance, and she screams as his hooves connect twice with her flank. He is somewhat disappointed that the echo of cracking bone does not resound in his ears, and resolves to break her at least once before the fight is done. Cynder's claws find flesh, but not the tender liquid of Arah's eyes - her fire barely clips the mongrel mare's muzzle, and her own trumpet of disgust rings into the heavens. Again, Cynder, commands the beast, his voice a mental echo in his dragon's consciousness. But, to his surprise, he finds naught but a brick wall of resistance - he presses further, and senses Cynder's confusion as her gaze is inexplicably locked to Arah's. The jade lizard's mind, normally so open to her bonded, is closed to him, save for the command he can hear echoing through her brain. "Attack Tyra-horse. Burn Tyra-horse."

The hellion realises what is happening with a sharp stab of mingled horror and disgust - the filthy vermin is interfering with his dragon's mind. The innermost sanctum of their bond, the most private and cherished section of their interlocked consciousnesses, has been delved by the hideous mental trickery of the scum's magic.

Cynder, don't you dare, the beast mentally hisses to her, ears pinning to his mane as his own dragon shoots towards him. He can feel her utter bemusement and fear, not able to understand what's happening to her, unable to realise why she suddenly wants to harm the man she loves more than any other. Her maw opens, her yellow eyes almost apolgetic as she brews the flame in her belly and prepares to send it forth into Tyradon's face, but before she can the stallion makes a snap decision - his skull reaches out and slams sharply to the left, crashing its massive weight into Cynder's side and sending the dragon sprawling out of the way. Her flame misses him by a hair's breadth, but a small grumble of disgust flees his clenched jaws as his head throbs with the force of the impact. That pain is nothing, though, compared to what he can feel from Cynder; confusion and bewilderment, and betrayal that her own bonded would use such brutality on her. Her aching side transmits to Tyradon, and his own ribs pulse as if broken; he finds he cannot meet her wounded gaze, and she swoops upwards with a small caw of sorrow that melts the warlord's stone heart.

Of everyone in his life, his beloved dragon is the one he cherishes most. But it was a choice between hitting her off course, or allowing her flame to ignite his mane, singe flesh from bone and likely cause him to lose the fight. They are both soldiers - they know that the pain of one is worth it for the good of the many. She will forgive him, but Tyradon will not forgive the antler-horned unicorn bitch who sought to threaten their sacred bond. With that action, she has condemned herself.

She will burn.

He begins to turn as he sees Arah charge towards him, but can do little to prevent her horns crashing into the thick muscle of his right leg save for shift to his left to somewhat lessen the impact. The tines rip into flesh and sinew, and the bastard grits his yellowed teeth as he feels blood erupt from the wound and pour in crimson rivulets down his leg. It hurts - by Nieque, it stings like a bitch, but the warbringer's rage throbs like a heartbeat in his chest and he forces aside the pain into the little box in the corner of his mind, where he locks his injuries until after the fight. He can whine, complain and limp once this battle is done; for now, he has a job to do.

He shoots forward a short distance, favouring his torn hindleg as he swings his massive frame around to try and face her right side again. He digs his heavy hooves into the thick snow, scrabbling for purchase as he charges forwards with the force of a freight train, his momentum only slightly lessened by his throbbing leg and the snow that sucks at every muscle of his limbs. He aims to crash his thick chest into Arah's right ribcage, hoping to use every ounce of power in his gargantuan frame to try and smash her bones and perhaps even topple her. His jaws snap forwards, aiming to pepper bites across her back and spine. Cynder, stop sulking and take your revenge, he commands the emerald beast; with a small chuff of agreement (no doubt she will pout at him later), the war-dragon swoops silently downwards, aiming for Arah's backside. Her jaws unhinge and she belches fire towards the mare's tail, aiming to set it alight.

____________________


797 words

2/4

Summary: Charges at Arah's right ribcage to try and knock her over/break bones, and tries to bite her back. Cynder tries to set her tail on fire.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#6


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

Her side aches from the pounding of his hooves and her once elegant head still itches from the dragon's deadly talons. In the past, the Impersonator had faced and fought with death. Now his training was coming alive again. Their dance is deadly, but it is hard to tell who is more wicked in the heat of battle. It had been a good while since she had a decent fight. The pain they caused had been a long forgotten memory, it was quickly being refreshed in her mind however.

The mind falls, it nearly always does. The tables turn...topple in her favour, the realisation hits now. If she can control the dragon's corrupt and cruel thoughts, then her guard suddenly had a lot more to fear. Checkmate. The doe is not alone in this fight. The lizard turns on her master, beautiful in its treacherous flight, and the mouth opens, her breath is drawn in. Burn him. The final command, a beautiful whisper of upmost control. Before the dragon can turn the stallion into a pile of ash, the master kicks the dog. The thick and stupid skull of the stallion slams sharply to it's left side, causing the dragon to sprawl out of the way. Death by fire is avoided by a mere hair. Cold, colder than the devil that will hunt the nightmares of her children, her golden eyes flash in the darkness. Frustration quickly turns to satisfaction, it is coursing through her ivory body as she charges towards him and her horns connect with the target. Pain, it is all she can think of, for a moment it consumes her. So the doe pushes hard with her antlers, the crown grandmother blessed her with proving useful. Retreat is unavoidable, her golden eyes look upon the blood decorating his side as she tears herself away. Subtly, the doe grins at the pain he must be feeling.

The snow had turned to a lethal mush under her hooves, it is slippery and dangerous. A fight begins against the surface and her hooves, balance was crucial to winning this fight. The stallion is in action again, moving away and taking aim. The doe acts indifferent as her body pauses to watch him and waits for him to make his move. Sailing a short distance away and clearly favouring his torn side, the abductor of little girls digs his deadly and huge hooves into the thick snow, and as he manages to remain balanced Arah smirks. Powerfully he charges into a battle fury as he takes aim for her right side. Forward he flies, his powerful legs propelling him with what appeared to be ease through the snow. Come into my castle, you'll never see the traps.

With the power of a bull, his onslaught accelerates towards her. Speed and bulk make his charge deadly, fear pounds through the veins of The Basin's Impersonator. Clearly his attack is aimed for her middle; while Arah does not know what he hopes to achieve, she knows it will hurt. Arah could never hope to match the momentum that his weight gave him, but she was agile. Perhaps the best way to win this fight was to turn his own advantage against him once again. Quickly Arah spins around to face the nightmare head on, her golden eyes lock onto his form. She will stand tall. She will not fall.

Keeping her gaze trained on him became difficult when suddenly the dragon was back. Panic fills her, she thought the lizard would have been out of the count for this attack. Never-mind, she could simply turn the dog against master again. The dragon draws breath, quickly! Sparking to life her magic fills her, staring over to the dragon the process begins again. 'Stop! I don't like your master's eyes....take the eyes out from his skull.' The flame stops at least, hopefully an attack will follow. Turning back to the stallion, he is closer then ever. This was also going to hurt the doe in the process, but it would be worth it if she was able to stab his rotten heart. After all, this is what antlers are naturally made for; stopping another's charge. Kicking away the snow and mud, Arah finally finds rocks underneath the slippery surface. Digging her hooves into the ground, nerves and nausea fill her. It was too late to turn back now though. Five...four...three...two...one. Arah grits her teeth and locks her legs, a solid stance as the guard flies towards her. Bending her neck and aiming her antlers, the doe waits from him to spear himself onto her deadly barbs.

" "
Words :: 777 [800 max] Post :: [2 | 4]

And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#7


I DON'T FOLD UP AND I DON'T BOW

She is a craven coward.

Frustration rockets through him as she pivots away from his charge, and he feels another spasm of fear from Cynder as the mare delves into her mind again; the emerald war-dragon, normally so full of rage and hellbent determination, is devoured by the primal terror of something she doesn't understand. Why is her mind being invaded by someone who isn't her bonded? Why is she succumbing to the sudden need to harm the man she loves? A muffled squeak of anguish bubbles from her clenched jaws and Tyradon grits his teeth, her confusion washing over him in a wave. He looks to Arah, and suddenly he has never wanted to kill something as much as he wants to kill her - he needs the sweet release of her skull crushing to pieces beneath her hooves, needs to swear a thousand afterlifes of misery on her for what she is doing to the partner of his heart and soul.

He makes a solemn vow to Nieque - whatever the outcome of this fight, he will make the rest of this vermin's life a living hell.

Close your mind, Cynder, she is weak! The dragon hovers, and the beast can feel her concentration as she fights against the magic. Her muscles flex as she fights with everything she has; she focuses on her hatred for this parasite sitting within her mind, trying to tame her wild spirit and use her as a weapon. No, she is dragon - she will not be commanded like some dog to turn on her master! Find the loophole in her command and exploit it, orders the black beast, his gaze fixed fully on his companion - he can feel Cynder's sudden and overwhelming desire to peck those eyes from his skull, and his scarred features twist into a hideous grimace as he plots all the different way he is going to flay this mongrel bitch until she is naught but a screaming mass of flesh writhing before him. Steeling her mind, Cynder dives towards Arah's back as the mare charges towards Tyradon, jaws open and flame blossoming as she aims to scorch the entirety of the unicorn's spine and neck - the mare had told her to stop her previous assault, but had put no time limit on the command. The loophole.

But the need to rip Tyradon's eyes from his head is still overpowering her - her resolve snaps, knowing she cannot resist the compulsion indefinitely. She flies towards him, talons glinting in the weak light, a mental coo of apology caressing his mind. "Sorry," she says, her sing-song voice soft.

She alters her course at the last minute, and flies with the force of a freight train into the nearest tree.

The collision comes as a sickening thud, and a bellow of agony flees Tyradon's slavering jowls as he feels the full force of the impact through their mental link. Cynder falls prone to the ground, out cold, and for a moment the stallion contemplates abandoning the battle and running to her aid, because fuck this battle when his dragon's life is at stake. He can barely believe what she did - she knew she couldn't resist the foul mare's mental hold over her, so she took herself out of the equation. She couldn't rip the warmaster's eyes out if she was unconscious, could she? A tide of adoration wells up in the beast's chest for his emerald companion, and it only serves to solidify his determination and the steel wall of loathing for this antlered monstrosity charging towards him. A warcry erupts from his muzzle and, at the last moment before they collide, he throws his weight to his right, aiming to run parallel beside Arah on her left side. Her left antler rips into the left side of his chest and drags onto his shoulder, creating a medium-depth, thick red welt that oozes crimson down his foreleg. It stings, but mercifully does not hamper the movement of his pulsing muscles.

The beast slams on the brakes, throwing his weight to his forelegs and kicking out with his hindlegs. He kicks to his left, aiming to crash his massive hooves into Arah's skull, hoping to smash it to smithereens beneath the force of his fury. He's glad he chose to dart to her left, as it keeps his injured right flank hopefully out of her reach - it still throbs painfully. Simultaneously his heavy head, lowered to lend force to his back leg's kicks, tilts to the left, aiming to pepper Arah's upper left hindleg with painful bites and caring little for how exposed he has left himself to retaliation from her own hooves.

She needs to suffer for his fallen dragon, whose absence from his mind is like the pain of a thousand cuts.

____________________


799 words

3/4

Summary: Cynder tries to set Arah's back on fire before flying into a tree to avoid hurting Tyra. He runs parallel to her and tries to kick her in the head and bite her left hindleg.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#8


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

The perfidious decent of the dragon, is graceful, deadly and beautiful. Avoiding the first breath of flame was a terribly short lived victory. Eyes are not removed from the stallions skull, bitter disappointment fills her for a moment. The last controlling command to the dragon had been inspired by a previous attack it had done to her. After all, she did not understand the creature. The scorching breath of the dragon can not be avoided, while the horrendous stallion still charged. The fiery kisses scald her back, the first bout of pain is excruciating. Flinching to the left to get away from the pain does only a little good for her back, but it does stop her shoulders from burning. The scream that tears it's way through her throat is so animalistic, for a moment Arah does not realise it is her creating the noise. Eyes blur as the pain takes ahold of her, the fight to remain in control of her own body began. As the initial bite of pain wavers and dies, she is left with a smouldering pain along her back. Blinkinging furiously, she tries to clear her gaze of the tears that leave her eyes hazy, but it does nothing to soothe the searing of her back. They say 'only a man who's been burned knows what hell is truly like.' Now Arah understands.

A sickening thud echoes through the area, finally the dragon is removed from the battle. 'Now, prove you're the warrior you claim to be,' her mind whispers full of venomous and indignant rage. Finally she would see his worth without his lizard. Patience is a virtue and hers clearly outweighs his for the alarming bulk of the ebony stallion still charged, clearly impatient to strike the next blow like the caveman he was. The doe's hooves rest on the rocky ground she had cleared from ice and mud previously. A war cry bursts from his muzzle, in turn Arah locks her joints to brace herself against his attack, her back screams in agony. He, at the last moment before they collide, throws his weight to her left, she tries to follow the movement with her eyes and antlers. Pleasure fills her as a part of her plan is successful, her left antler enters his chest and drags down to his shoulder. Oh how the agony must be taking a hold of him, her thoughts are vicious and cruel, so out of character. Her thoughts are tainted because of the pain and terror her girls have experienced at the hands of his master. The mere thought of her girls is enough to make Arah continue through the pain. The memories urge her to push through the pain. Her hindquarters ache, face stings and now her back is rippling in pain, but she will continue to fight. Her gut curls in the heat of anger, this battle was going down quickly. Arah wanted to see it through to the end, more so she had to win, for her girls. They needed her now.

The hellish beast slams on his brakes, in turn Arah barely has time to avoid his attack. Hooves pick up from the ground, their target must be her face, experience has taught her as much. Just as his huge and deadly hooves are about to make contact with her head, Arah ducks under the attack. Such an attack could mean death for her because of his difference in size. Lowering her neck and head, this attack the doe manages to almost completely avoid. Merely clipping her antlers, Arah does not have time to even draw in a breath of relief before pain rockets through her body again. Rotten and yellow teeth sink into the flesh of her left hind leg. The pain is enough to make her tear her limb away from his mouth.

At least by coming close to bite at her leg the brute unwittingly opens his head up for attack. Before their height differences made it almost impossible to lash out at his head, the most vital thing to protect in a fight. Turning her body quickly to the left, she faces away from the brute who remains behind her. Her legs and rear lift ready to attack. Gravity had to come in soon, and mind over matter could not keep her from ignoring the pain that ravaged her body relentlessly, never letting her forget that this was a worthy opponent. Her back hooves kick out at his face, attempting to smash in his skull and ruin his mind forever. She does not realise that in this position, he can easily topple her over. Inexperience is what drives her, as she has never been knocked over before, she does not realise the danger she places herself in.

" "
Words :: 799 [800 max] Post :: [3 | 4]
As snowy pointed out I made a mistake.
So in her attack Arah is supposed to turn to the right not the left. By turning to the right Trya would be behind he allowing her to kick out with her back hooves. I've left the mistake in my original post so everyone can see where I was an idiot.
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#9


I DON'T FOLD UP AND I DON'T BOW

His mind feels empty, devoid of the familiar contact with his dragon. Even as he attacks, he sends mental prods in Cynder's direction, desperate to ascertain if she's okay - she is alive, which is a mercy, but he fears she has broken bones or worse, judging from the crumpled heap she lays in. He can feel the stacatto throb of her pain, but unlike his own wounds, he can block out the agony of hers with some concentration - what he can't forget, however, is the searing sting of his torn flank and chest, or the bruises on his rugged face where his massive skull crashed into Cynder's solid, scaled form. He contemplates pushing his pain onto her, transferring it to her unconscious body and allowing her to suffer his aches for him, but he could never do that.

He's a selfish bastard in all walks of life, but not when it comes to her.

His back hooves succeed in clipping only Arah's horn, and a hiss of disgust escapes him at his failure to shatter her skull like a broken promise. The scream from the rat as Cynder's fire burns her back, though, is a macabre stab of pleasure to the war king's greedy ears, a howling lullaby that sings of his dragon's flaming payback for what the mare's magic did to her. Blunt teeth manage to impact with her leg, and he hopes her action of pulling the limb away will increase the damage done to her. She moves, and he automatically darts forwards as he realises that his previous attack left his head open to retaliation from her; no matter how dainty her hooves are, he does not fancy getting them full force into his skull. But, at precisely the wrong moment, his injured right hindleg gives way, pain blazing through it. His entire frame lurches forwards, his traction on the ice - exposed beneath the snow by their scuffling hooves - compromised severely. He manages to get his hind hooves back beneath himself, but his momentum forces his forelegs to bend and he crashes to his knees, ripping the skin free from them as they rasp against the sharp stones hidden beneath the hard ice. Pain spasms through him, but like a newborn foal he manages to gather himself and unfold his forelegs, returning to all fours with blood pouring steadily down both of them, both his pride and his knees severely battered.

On the plus side to his most inelegant tumble, Arah's attack misses its mark - he almost wonders if a kick from her pinlike hooves would have been preferable to damn near faceplanting the floor in front of her. He turns and tries to get his bearings, not giving himself a moment of rest before he charges for her again, aiming to approach her left side in a T-shape once more. His hooves slalom across the exposed ice and his weakened right hindleg gives another shriek of protest, but he tells it in no uncertain terms to piss off because the battle is nearing its conclusion and he needs all his limbs in full working order, whether they like it or not. He directs his charge for her left flank rather than her left ribcage, this time, in the hope of preventing her from having time to turn and prong him again, and he makes sure he leads more with the right side of his chest to save the cut left side from further damage. He aims to slam his thick chest into the mongrel's left flank, hoping to knock her hindlegs out from under her whilst his jaws snap forth to try and pepper her not-so-fine ass with sharp bites. He doesn't want the taste of her on his tongue, but he knows his blunt, heavy teeth can inflict painful bruises that will linger and mark her as his bitch for the next few days at least.

Simultaneously his right foreleg lifts off the ground, reaching forwards and aiming to rasp the hoof painfully down the outside of Arah's back left leg, from just below her hock to her fetlock. A myriad of small ice crystals cling to his massive, feathered hoof, in addition to some sharp stones dislodged by their churning feet - he hopes that rasping these down the mare's leg will cause cuts and pain, and perhaps the force of his massive hoof will succeed in cleaving flesh from bone. It takes everything he has to keep going, with the knowledge that his dragon is still prone on the ground with no sign of regaining consciousness - suddenly his need to eliminate Arah stems not from his desire to keep her captive, to aid the Regime with her blood and fear and submission, but to gain some sort of vengeance in Cynder's name.


____________________

OOC: A note to the judge about my response to Arah's attack - with the way they were positioned, left side to left side, it would be impossible for Arah to turn to her left and be able to attack Tyra's head with her back hooves. I cleared up with Frostie that Arah was actually meant to attack with her front legs, not her back ones. However, I didn't want to PP her by taking damage from her front hooves, nor did I want to have it be matrix-y and have him take damage from her back hooves since they couldn't physically reach him - which is why I had him take the required dice-roll damage via tripping, and was vague on Arah's actual attacks <3

798 words

4/4


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#10


Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

The doe watched as he turned, her eyes flickering with mixed emotions of rage and horror. Revulsion at what she had seen and felt, what she had done. As the enraged brute gathered his bearings, Arah sucked in a deep breath while following him with her eyes. Remaining so still is dangerous, yet the doe is almost too beaten to move and defend herself. The bitch's dog approaches her left side in a T-shape, his charge is one of a deadly precision. Once more, The Sliver Doe prepares herself for an attack by locking her heart in steel. As his hooves slam across the exposed ice, Arah's muscles tense and shake in apprehension. The pain in her back slightly intensifies as the burnt skin becomes rigid. The closer he got the clearer his intentions were; this time his charge was directed at the doe's left flank. They collide, thick chest slamming into her left flank. Lungs completely emptied of air, for a moment Arah is stunned. Sucking in a deep breath, she cries out in pain as his flesh slaps against her own and as his rotten teeth sink into her skin. Arah's legs crumble against his size and strength as she stumbles away from him. She has to get away...now! On shaky legs Arah staggers away to her right, narrowly avoiding more bites that are aimed for her rump.

His right foreleg lifts, yet the distance now between them makes it impossible for him to touch her. A sigh of relief escapes her, the knowledge that she had escaped his deadly hooves was empowering and now she has the distance she needs to make one last attack. She can not give up...she can not stop. Her babes need her, innocent Arwen and tough Asch. Using one last burst of agility, the sliver doe moves around the brute so she is facing his left hand side. Anger and pent up frustration forces her to push through the pain in her back, rump, face and legs. Her stamina is still with her, she is in control of her body. One last impact, the last count of eight for her dance. His massive bulk will not scare her off, she will make him feel this last bite of pain. Hooves slipping on the broken and muddy surface did not deter her from the short distance charge. Rounding onto the brute that was preventing their escape, Arah dips her head and aims her antlers for his tough muscled left flank. Legs and rump scream in pain, in agony almost enough to make her pause in the charge. The afflictions are devastating, yet it does not match the absolute anguish her back breaks into. Still with the thought of her girls freshly placed in her mind, the doe continues through with her charge. The scream the rips through her is a mixture of anger, pain and battle fury.

The closer she gets, the further open her mouth becomes; the more heinous her scream is. She wants to bite him back as well. His back left leg is closest, so as she draws near to his leg, her teeth protrude from her mouth. Neck elegantly bent, her antlers positioned and angled to cause as much destruction and pain as possible, Arah gets prepared to spear the brute. She does this by shutting out all rationale thoughts and allowing her animalistic instincts to take over. Her desire is to bite down into his back leg, let him feel her displeasure. Taste him she shall.

Destroy him she will.

" "
Words :: 524 [800 max] Post :: [4 | 4]
Because of the confusion in the fight I just went from Trya's attack and did not include his face plant or Arah's attempted previous attack, as advised by admin ^^
Best of luck Snowwy and thanks for being such a champ! <3

And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#11


I DON'T FOLD UP AND I DON'T BOW

They come together with the stacatto thud of colliding flesh, and Tyradon twists his face in a silent snarl as the impact - despite his best efforts - sends a spasm of pain through his wounded shoulder. But the earth-shattering scream that leaves the woman's lips is enough to smother the momentary agony he feels, although he knows he will be both stiff and battleworn for many days after the conclusion of this particular fight. Bites pepper down on her flanks, ears laced into his mane at the foul taste of her lesser skin against his tongue. His hoof, more's the pity, fails to connect with those frail legs of hers, and he returns it to the snowy ground with a muffled crunch.

She turns, and charges for his left side. Exhaustion and the pain of his numerous wounds ensures he lacks the agility to turn and face her, but he throws himself forwards so only her left antler succeeds in colliding with his powerful flank. The barbs rip into the skin and create a gaping mouth there, a flap of torn flesh that stings in the frigid air around them - he allows himself to step to the right with her movements, rather than bracing himself like a stoic wall of blackened hatred in front of her. Doing so would only allow her to force her horn deeper; moving with her ensures she does not permanently ruin the taut muscle of his thick hindquarters. It still bloody hurts, mind, and coupled with the steady pulses of his right flank he knows he will struggle to walk without a limp for the forseeable future. As a result of his movement forwards, her teeth miss their mark, and he escapes without the sensation of her heavy molars crunching into his leg.

He senses the battle is nearing its conclusion, and his slate gaze shifts to Cynder. She's stirring, and he can feel the first tingles of her mental presence inside his head once again. Like the caress of an old friend, it is a welcome sensation, and he releases the breath he didn't realise he was holding. She is still not fully conscious, though, and he knows he will run to her as soon as the fight is completely finished to lift her onto his shoulders and take her to safety. The area around her is devoid of snow from where her flame-tail scorched it all away, and she's lucky she hasn't set the parched grass alight. He allows his mind to linger with hers, their consciousnesses mingling together as he silently thanks her for the sacrifice she made. Her half-asleep response is simple: "Break horned she-horse, make her scream like prey."

In the name of Nieque, the dragon king hopes he has done just that.

____________________

OOC: Great fight Frostie! <33 Good luck to you too.

464 words

Closing defence


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#12
By my verdict: TYRADON is the winner!

ARAH
Realism [+2]
You say she dove her head to avoid the dragon's fire, putting her head to her chest, so how then does the fire hit the end of her nose? Also, I would have liked to maybe read some follow through with the dragon, see emotion.
Directional issue that you and snowwy caught.
Otherwise well done and great attention to size and environment!



Emotion [+2]
I believe this is the first time Arah is battling a dragon, which is a big deal. I think that the emotion of having a firebreathing reptile try to claw your eyes out was maybe missed.
However, I did very much enjoy the fact that she was doing this for her children, and I think it apt that she turned so malicious in doing so.



Prose [+3]
Word error "so you like YOUR dragon..."
This may just be me, but the center align of the text is distracting. I didn't take off points for it, but it's something to consider in the future.
More than a few small grammar issues: stallion's, cannot is one word without a space, etc.
I think that this was your weakest point in this battle. Even without the directional issue, I ran into may snags in your grammar and verb tense. Next time, I would try reading your posts out loud 20 minutes after writing them to see if it all still makes sense.



Readability [+2]
You said in your second post that "his training is coming alive"? Who is he? I didn't understand this paragraph.
Other than this minor issue, I didn't have any struggles.


Finally tally: 35.5 HP

*******************************************

TYRADON
Realism [+1.5]
Arah ducked her head down when Cynder attacked, which means that essentially, Cynder would have had to content with sharp, spiney antlers. I would have liked to read this.
In your third post, you write Arah's antlers scraping, but he stays in close quarters. Is her antler still stuck in his body then? Where is it? Not giving a position to your opponent's horn leaves a gap that is hard to fill for the other writer! Also, since he is kicking at her and biting at her, wouldn't the tines be pushing more into his body?

I very much enjoyed your attention to the small details in this battle, including the rocks in his hooves as he tried to scrape along Arah's leg. However, there were a few "holes" rather than mistakes that I would focus on filling next battle.


Emotion [+2]
I loved reading the reaction of Tyradon and Cynder with the bond interference, and I am also impressed at how you managed to get out of that attack. It was a clever way to take damage and avoid the flames.


Prose [+4]
Some minor repetition of the same words and same points in each paragraph made the introduction difficult to track. I had a hard time associating his thoughts in the sequence to his actions. Throughout your entire battle, you seemed to focus only on a few words or thoughts. Since you write Tyradon in third person, it would be nice to know if he is repeating these thoughts because he is a single track mind so I know it's not you running out of things to say! Words like "bone", "break" and so forth were so heavily used and then italicized, so I noticed even more the repetition.



Readability [+3]
Very easy to read!

Finally tally: 51 HP





Arah and her babies stay in the custody of Tyradon, and Tyradon is awarded 1VP

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#13
We have looked over the absence thread in question and by our count, five days of absence have not passed. We apologize for our previous miscount.

The following times are from the CDT time zone.

Tyradon's initial absence post was on April 3, 2014 at 4:20 pm.
Tyradon returned from absence on April 7, 2014 at 6:27 pm.
By our count, Tyradon was absent for only 4 days, 2 hours, and 7 minutes.

To clarify the rule regarding stealths and absences: "In the event that the guard goes on absent for longer than 5 days, the prisoner is immediately released unless the guards are switched prior in character."
-- The guard must be gone for five full days - that is to say, 120 hours.
-- The guard may be gone for a total of five days throughout the time of imprisonment. For example, if, on day two or imprisonment, a guard goes absent for three days, then s/he only has two days of absence left. If, on day seven of imprisonment, the guard goes absent for these additional two days, then the prisoner will be freed.

With that being said, should Tyradon be absent for another day from this point onward, then Arah will be freed.


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