the Rift


[OPEN] ACHTUNG!!!!

NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#1
NPC


The summer has been bountiful and gentle with mild weather and an abundance of easy food. Herbivores and predators alike thrive causing a sudden spike in the populations - and an urgent lack of space for them all to mingle upon.

In the northern tundra the Arctic Wolves begin to prepare for the early winter that descends as Tallsun draw to a close. The young have left their packs to form families of their own, many grouping together in order to establish new territories.

In the cover of night, a pack of six young wolves have slipped across the borders of the Aurora Basin and target the foals and young! Like pale shadows they surge into the valley, hungry and intent on conquering this northern haven!



Zikar-Sin Posts: 78
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8
M.E.
#2





Oh, of course he knew the scent of canines; in his forays into the wilderness, Sin would frequently encounter snippets of wolf hair, a broken claw, scratch marks, the rotted pelt of an unfortunate youngling caught in an early blizzard. Mostly they kept to themselves—and, mostly, Sin kept to himself as well, being largely uninterested in the habits of carnivores. Oh, of course they fascinated him in regards to their role in the great drama of natural philosophy; yet, as a topic in and of themselves, his imagination was never really caught, and their spaces were left rather well enough alone.

“Oh dear,” he whispered to himself, catching the scent—for it seemed that, in this bountiful year, some pups didn’t seem to feel as though they should leave this place well enough alone. Strangely, the Haruspex felt little fear for himself, or indeed, any worry for imminent injury, even death, that a wolf might bring with a well-placed bite. Oh, no, he might even be tempted to sit and study them as they pillaged the Basin lands, snooping in caves and dirtying the hot springs in their pursuit of God-Knows-What. However, Zikar-Sin had a duty; he had a very good idea of what and where the wolves would try to strike. And as such, without even glimpsing the grey pelts of those roguish brutes, Sinny set off across the Basin, his voice raised in dutiful alarm: “WOOOOLVES IN THE BASIN! WOLVES, COMRADES!”

It would be the children they would go for; the darling, spindle-legged wonders that he adored so much, so new to the world, so fragile and small. The easiest pickings for scavengers and hunters—it’s what he’d do, if he were in their shoes. Excuse me—paws. “CHILDREN, TO ME!” he trilled in urgent excitement, almost enjoying himself. “COME, CHILDREN!” He made for his cave, a safe haven for the Basin’s future soldiers, scholars, artisans; it was the least he could do, for, oh, he was definitely not a combative sort! His deepest wish was that the children would be safe; that the wolves wouldn’t chance to harm his comrades; that there would be someone nice enough to bring him a corpse for study later. He wasn’t too interested in carnivores—but oh, he did love pelts!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IMG Credit: ness094@deviantart.com





Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#3


Ineptitude and greed were an unfortunate constancy, mixed and boiled together into a noxious, witless stew, paralyzing common sense and driving audacity into the reins of the ineffectual. Over and over again, intruders laced the same ordeal, the same idiocy, the same brazen abandon, with no results quartered or ordained. Unfamiliar scents languished into the northern territory, punctured and pierced the reticent ambitions of the Basin King, curiosity invoked into spellbound treachery. Minatory ambience amidst the weary doldrums, he stoked the fine pinnacles of potency, slashed and tore, ripped and maimed, a brutal menace on the hunt, on the prowl, keened and vibrant on the words of death and demise. The outcry of the Haruspex, perhaps he’d reveal his gratefulness towards the monocle beast at a later time, pierced through the northern sky, and he gave naught but the fiery acrimony of his pernicious schemes over to the lands: wild and untamed, behemoth and anarchist, craving annihilation and extermination upon those that threatened his land, his children, his brethren. Molten and infernal, following the hungry gallows, the thieving cloaks, the dastardly wake of nefarious arts, he commanded and sieged, scraped and brooded, brewed each hostile step of his vicious swiftness, colliding against the chilling ramparts and the wicked peaks, savage and monstrous. They would be the only predators within the Basin. He’d provide the might, the potency, the shield, the sword, the oeuvre of demise to destroy the threats labored against them; show the world time and time again their power, their will, their conviction amidst the clattering rime and beckoning hunger. As soon as the figures were spotted, wolves baying and beaconing on the horizon, longing to take what was his, the possessive slight of his frame craved endless entropy; awakened the devilish chords of his puissance. Dangerous and fuming, eager and fervent for the fray, he transpired into the vicious wake and deliberated with his feral creed; the slightest of smirks entrenched through his mouth at the opportunity to unravel, distort, conquer, and destroy. He thundered and rolled across the grounds, swept up the frost and tasted the delicious presence of sedition, hungered and ached to demolish the chosen, witless prey, the greedy fiends, the avaricious canines, and never ceased his ferocious, barbaric speed. Providing no warnings, no claims, no alarms of his advance lavished towards the dogs, with meticulous aim, with calculated machinations, a Machiavellian spread of the infernal, of the immoral, stretched from his body and out into the void: deadly promises, withering, festering muses, a Reaper’s scythe, silent and trenchant, hushed and pernicious, execution and slaughter teeming with enigmatic, satanic glee. It traced and trailed towards the wolves, spreading carnivore massacre, invoking termination, collapse, eradication and obliteration, yearning to feed upon their bones, their flesh, their lungs, their air, their hearts, intending to grasp them tightly until they all became one lifeless plunge of the inevitable. And in the distance, monitoring the borders, flanking the entrance way with its unrelenting stare, the sentinel slowly attempted to move its body towards the predators; if Zikar's warning hadn't been enough, it too raised a steady, blistering alarm.

[Death magic sent towards the wolves~ The front gate sentinel is also trying to block the wolves; sounding the alarm after Zikar. ;D]




Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#4
illynx,
A cry lifts her ears to catch the sound of a familiar, jovial voice sounding out in something that was not glee or reverence for some new discovery; it was a voice wrought with an eminent need to listen and heed the words he spun. She finds him, a dark streak shouting the name of a foe ancient and well known to the unicorns of Loorien, and without a moments hesitation, she turns with a graceful spin to face her son who has heard the warning, as well.

He is filled with eagerness to see the hounds come, but his mother is wiser and much meaner than his curiosity; using her body as a wall she propels herself between the boy and the region of the land from which Zikar bolted, the presumed location of the intruders. ”Gather to my side, close as you can make yourself,” she commands sharply, forcing him into the motion even as he moves to oblige her with anxiously prancing hooves, her senses burning with the need to both locate the wolves and her other child, too young to properly defend or flee from the wild animals; she’s not entirely sure why she cares if Aithniel survives or not until she spies Rikyn from the corner of her eye – and knows his woe will be a terrible thing to survive through indeed.

The Haruspex is calling for the children to follow him, still within a fair distance from the Lady, but she is held momentarily by her fears that the young hybrid will not hear him and be caught in between sharp, dangerous teeth; her hesitation last for but a few seconds, but they tick through her mind slow and wearisome as cold molasses.

She moves to follow Zikar, intent on defending the cave with the rather nonaggressive but eagerly available scientist, knowing that if the wolves turn to the place where all the children are hiding (a likely thing, seeing as Myrrdin was no longer around as a promising, easy catch in his feeble oldness) the Haruspex would be unable to defend them with much more grace than he had her during their last hours of darkness.

He couldn’t shove all the children away at once, now could he?

”Aithniel!” Rikyn calls as they run after the madman with his eyes searching the land as they rush forward, the realization that she could possibly be in danger having finally been realized by the boy; his voice has a tinge of need and a heavy dose of fear knit into its notes, ”Aith!?”

Within a few moments time, the Lady and her prince arrive at the cave of the mirror, the golden backed woman pushing her nearly panicked child into the opening behind the moon eyed scholar. ”Get yourself together, Rikyn!” she snaps with her golden eyes narrowed and heart ramming into her ribcage in a combination of the running and her worry for her people, ”why don’t you start calling for the wolves by name, maybe they’ll find you faster then!”

The harshness in her voice strikes the child with a heavy weight and his ears splay to the sides, his heart more heavy than it had been a moment earlier, but he does as he is commanded and immediately silences his worried bleating for his sister while his mother anxiously walks the fore of the cave, waiting for the monsters to come with ferocity steeling her heart and adding definition to her sinew.

[ OOC: Illynx and Rikyn followed Zikar to the Haruspex cave, and Illynx is remaining there to help assist in defending the cave should they make it there. :3 ]
intending to burn - pretending to fight it
everyone learns faster on fire

image credits
Table By Neo
Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#5


Aithniel
The first flame burned gloriously, but the second flame burns cold.


Aithniel heard her name being called over the breeze from where she was nibbling on salty winter grasses, and she lifted her head. Tension filled the air, and she turned her blackened muzzle over her back, sniffing deeply. What was that smell? Why was there so much yelling? Confused, she started to walk toward the caves when she saw Illynx and Rikyn running toward that creep, Zikar. Something was wrong.

Seconds later, she noticed wolves, one nearing her, and she squealed in fear and surprise, snorting as her whiskers danced. She needed no other impetus to run, and she took off toward Illynx and her brother, cloven hooves carrying with swift grace across the land. In desperation, she lifted her wings up, the breeze catching over the top of her feathers and increasing her speed.

Then, as she broke through the fear, she remembered what she had learned earlier, just outside the walls of her home. With force, she clicked her hooves together, starting a large, pluming fire behind her which burned on the dry, tallsun grasses. Aithniel didn't think much about putting the fire out, not when she needed anything to stop the wolves from chasing at her heels.

Breathing hard, she scrambled into the cave, setting down on her haunches and sliding over the rocky earth. Aithniel gasped, looking up and down at Illynx and Rikyn, making sure that they were okay: and of course, they were. Still, she stood alert, ears pricked forward as she watched, for the first time, the gigantic metal machine try to stop the wolves. The metal thing was magnificent, frighting and grotesque all at the same time, and she shuddered. Equally as frightening was Erebos' father, moving with deadly grace.

Unable to stand still, she saw a patch of grass nearby and kicked a spark their direction. She did not know that wolves instinctively hated fire, but lucky for her, she could make a good one. "Rikyn..." she whispered, moving closer now, behind Zikar, watching as the first threat shattered the illusion that this place was impenetrable.


[Aith sets a fire trail behind her and then starts a fire near the cave entrance on a small bush (flanking one side of the cave entrance)]



But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

Krieger Posts: 43
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18.2 :: Seven Buff: NOVICE
Parelia
#6
Krieger
Krieger had been sleeping by himself away from the main herd his left rear hoof cocked head drooping. The massive stallion had his blue prize hidden high in a tree, nestled in a hollow maybe an old squirrel's nest either way it was safe. He had been dreaming in red, everything he touched fell over dead. To most people this would have been a bad dream, but it made him smile his twisted thoughts only made him smile as he enjoyed the carnage. The sudden call rattled the stallion from his slumber he was awake instantly his hooves digging trenches into the ground. Anger burned white hot in his chest as he neared the musty stench of foal killers. This might really be the chance for him to make his claim here to earn his place. As he saw the creatures the stallion let out a mighty bellow throwing his body forward embracing the rage within.

The threw himself at the group next to his lord relishing in the moment even though the herd was in danger he was thrilled to be here and fighting for everyone's life. He was sure the odd glass eyed stud would take care of the children, along with the baby's mothers. He roared again rearing attempting to slam down on the nearest hunter. If he struck the beast down he would be sure to crush it's tender bony skull to ensure it's death. He swiveled and kicked aiming at every foal killer he could reach. 'Die you son of a bitches!' He thought brutishly daring the creatures to attack him, if his blood was spilled he would go insane.

--------------------------------------------------
Words: 275
OOC: NPC feel free to powerplay Kroeger a bit and have him get beat up pretty good lol
"Talking" 'Thinking'
Image Credit
Please tag Krieger! All degrees of attacking is fine besides killing him, besides power-play(ask permission!)

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#7
EREBOS
Today’s adventure held no enjoyment, cajoling, or flagrant niceties, instead, it reminded the child that despite his kingdom being strong, stalwart, hardy and rigid, the world still presided in chaotic fragments, just for a chance, just for a bite, of the potent and vicious. Danger loomed and the lad’s heart pounded with the ringing sound of alarms, shrill, harsh, caustic; and he tried not to fill with panic and dread. His father was gone in an instant, flashing through the tundra with a Reaper’s indulgence, and the swinging pinnacles of the wind brought forth the oddest smells: unfamiliar, but distinctly canine. Deep in the thicket, his body trembled, little limbs shivering together despite the balmy summer, and while he knew his sire wouldn’t want him following, had no urge to place his child in the reaches of treachery, he didn’t know what else to do. Quaking feet were placed upon the forest floor, one after another, until the flourishing sound of Zikar-Sin, Storyteller and foal savior, it seemed, roared and keened throughout the wilderness. The boy, the watery prince, the young scion, struggled to place the whereabouts of the monocled beast – and only when he’d tumbled out of the woods, breathing hasty and wild, eyes widened and shocked, did he witness others, Aithniel, Rikyn, and maybe Illynx, flickering towards the caves. Torn and tangled, for some portion of him wanted to be bold, wanted to be brave, wanted to defend the walls of his home, he had naught in his grasp to do so (water-walking wouldn’t impress a pack of baying wolves, eager for the hunt, hoping to rip sinew and muscle from bone, feast on juvenile carcasses). With partial reluctance, he followed them, dashing across the open, twisting his head to gaze towards the borders, looking over the columns of marching soldiers, Deimos at the helm, sentinel swinging towards intruders, then turning back amongst the caves, blinking at the brilliant fire igniting nearby.

He nearly panicked again, until he noticed others gathered in the same grotto; someone had set the bushes alight, probably hoping to hasten away enemies. Swallowing the bile clogging his throat, Erebos gestured and called in an untamed whisper, fighting away the apprehension festering in his wake. “Hello?” Then, charging onward into the dark columns, his misgivings turned into some quiet acceptance, a calmer void, at the sight of his friends, protected and ensconced in the makeshift sanctuary. The limber boy tucked himself closer towards Rikyn and Aithniel, dipping a nod in gratitude towards the GildedBlade and Zikar-Sin, uttering vague whispers of confidence, hoping he could share them across the hallowed hole, bolster the credence and faith they had in their home, in their soldiers, in their might and power. “We’ll be safe. My father will hold them off.” He gave an assured nod, cloistering himself in the sable sanctions, thought to ask questions, but held them off for fear of a scolding, or if the wolves managed to pass by the defenders, could find them based on his carrying voice, sequestered into sudden silence.

Image Credit

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#8
The signature of peril reared its head for another trial, whispering in the summer vestiges, simmering on the borders, scathing and sinuous, howling for annihilation, panting for massacre, begging, clawing, pleading with the yearning whines and pelted furs. A sinking sensation drove her through the valley, stalking the rims and fringes of entropy, preparing for the sweeping bellows, for the swift rush, for the trenchant ease of violence as she slipped from rampant birdsong into enigmatic hellion, a part of the cold rock, a portion of the chilling peaks, a piece of the whirlwind tapestries of defense and resistance. She tried not to recall the hours spent in the same caustic purgatory, drenched and lathered in the striking chords of iniquity, dancing through the seasons and sages as another marauder, seeking absolution through ferocity and savagery, but they turned and twisted over her hide as beast and fairy calculated and measured the distance of canines to their expanse, wicked, persistent, fixated on the perceived targets. Sometimes an enchantress, tumbling amongst the foils of reeds and blossoms, and other moments, the smoldering sinner, retracing the steps of hungry, avaricious plumes; monsters be damned. While Imogen careened, glorified by the chance of destruction, memories flooded Mender dreams and fay whims churned to ash and dust, muscles undulating and recalling the fibers of invasions, the reasons for their existence, the puncturing, the lancing, the lacquer of protection they all provided to each other. The foals required protection, zealous, fervent preservation and savage security, and like so many other times before, she’d adhere to the laws of the land, the call, the urging, the beaconing, the siren song of vigilance and immorality, dipping amongst the scars for another moment of heresy. Clarity and ruffian regards awakened, a chiseled brow, a fiendish glow, a barbaric radiance, they swindled and swarmed into the onslaught, gaze fastened and fixated upon the Reaper, swiveling away from his death throes, and the other stag, hoping to stop and blemish the cretins attempting to peel away from demise and eradication. Amidst the boughs of desecration, caught in the throng of licentiousness, of decadence, she felt no remorse, no regrets, no rue for the canines bound to be maimed, and quietly, drenched in their silent connection, sent Imogen towards the left, looping around the outer flank of the pack. With no apprehension, with no hesitation, the ivory kitsune cloaked their void in a circlet of fire and embers, a brilliant conflagration, longing to soak and corrode, aiming to burn, to decimate, to brew brutality in a constant, igneous deluge. Lena coasted towards the center, hoping to push those running away from the flames, or from the rampant stoking of death, back into the inferno they’d made for themselves, forgoing her regal tiara, her flower crown, for a rapier’s stroke, driving her horn towards their greedy hides.

[Imogen and Lena go towards the left. Imogen attempts to set them all on fire, Lena goes towards the center to drive some near Deimos and Kreiger, or into Imogen’s flames.]
her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
LENA
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Tolio Posts: 110
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3hh :: 6 Years 8 Months Buff: NOVICE
Brit
#9
WE'D RATHER DIE THAN DO IT YOUR WAY</style>



A scream echoes over the Basin snow and ice, whipping tundra grasses and slicing into the irritable demon's ears. Initially there is only the desire to find the howler and rip out their vocal chords with his blunt teeth. Only when the words register is the screecher forgiven, and the bloodied stallion turned towards the hollering with wild eyes and perked ears. In a cloud of snow he kicks off, blood running hot as the message runs on loops in his head. Wolves daring to enter the Basin? It was so uncommon, the paths treacherous and the occupants equally so with their violent ways and protective natures.

He is late to the battle, the skirmish that ensues as the pack of wolves lunges for his kin. There is fire everywhere, confusing the manic stallion, until he spots the Lord with the deeply colored pelt and another stallion amidst the clearing of the flames. He surges forth between them, letting vocal chords scream out in a primal call, a warning for those he hunts. In another land, another time, it was a challenge meant for attempts to steal another's flock or take control of a herd. Instead it is a bloodcurdling call of the ancient and primordial, and he skirts the flames dangerously close until they warm and prickle his side.

Blood. Blood. Protect the family. Make them pay.

Head bows and neck arches royally, dagger dangerous with promise of death and disembowelment as forelegs strike out against the furred beast closest to him. Legs thrash with sharpness and power, forcing the wolves either to his left into the flames he stands so close to or to the right to be slaughtered by Deimos and Krieger. He is bottlenecking them, ignoring the sharp sting of flames so close to his hide, rage fueling every snap of teeth and thrust of the javelin upon his crown.

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Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#10
Come see what Karma herself has done,
And how fast and hot the gold does run,
To keep the evil wolves away?
Or make it a bloody revenge day?

A siren sounds. Drum beats of hooves and calls sounds throughout the valley. Golden harks flick back. What would dare attack the Basin? Could it be one of the herds were finally revealing their plot to destroy the hated Gilded Blade, his lady? A grin rose with a snicker. Moving from where he had been enjoying the shade above the lake, Thranduil walked down the stone path towards the rising call. The rocks grew into tall boulders where the mountains had shaken them down, but paths cut and crisscrossed through them. The golden son, now fully aware of these, moved through quickly. Heart beat fast, blood pounded, eyes eager to see what trouble rumbled at the gates of the Basin.

There was a few feelings absent though, no heartbreak for his herd. No fear of falling herdmates. Not even a sign of worry. Instead he near foolishly, gleeful for some action perhaps, shows his true face. Letting a wicked grin lift his features and feel his body with eagerness. The stones feel away to the open valley. Stopping, the gold stood away from the open, so as not to be seen by the others. This show would be too wonderful to miss, but if all went awry and the Basin won, best not be seen as unaiding the victory.

What he came upon did not disappoint. Chaos was in every direction. Beastly grin grew in his shadow hiding spot. Wolves were pressing down on a group of three, while another and their pet cornered them with flames. It wasn’t an invasion or attacking small party, but he would take wolves over a dull day anyway. Why did the wolves keep pressing their vantage though? Small figures dash across the plains before him to the rock walls and caves. Foals. They wanted the foals. Between the fighting and the cave of foals the gold congratulated him on his good seat. Brows raised with each lighted fire, like fireworks he admired them with wonder. That winged filly was a true curiosity. He had to give the girl credit for being brave enough to dare into the Basin with the two wings. The golden son was so enwrapped in watching and noticing new faces and noting the curious fire magic of the winged filly to notice a very small detail.

---

Before being surrounded, two of the pack had slipped off unnoticed. Having seen and smelled the foals they sought to round out the distracted adults and make for the cave where they had seen a mother and foal dart. Climbing up the sides of the hills to avoid detection, but kept quick, knowing their comrades being in jeopardy with every second. After they took care of a foal they would turn back to aid their young brothers and sisters. Hunger pushing them they could smell their pray and began to turn back down the hill into a cluster of large boulders. Their noses told them they were oh so close. It also told them a fire was about. Panic rose, but desperation was higher. Following the slender path they found themselves almost there when they ran into him. Another equine stood tall, but turned, not facing them. A whine slipped near silently from on as they thought of how close they were. Through their own communication a plan formed. They only needed to get around him, not take him down. One slowly slinked up to grab the creature aside while the other readied to run.

---

The fired burned brighter and tension was growing. Magic was abound in the air and flare for honor and family just as thick. The gold perhaps did not truly wish many death…but as said, there was little connection to those who stood before the wolves, especially the blue dipped blade. So, if some were to pass, he’d morn them but, only for a moment. There comes the black prince racing from the hills down and into the cave of safety. The devil’s son didn’t seem to share his father’s darker moods yet. Much to the –

HOLY MOTHER OF COCONUTS! Knives cut through the gold’s back left leg, and he let out a scream. Not of total fear, but of rage, deep, furious, raw, and deadly. Everything begins to move in slow motion. Spinning he saw a small grey figure gripping is hind, pulling. Flesh tore. SHIT! Ragged knives digging deeper. A flash of grey. In a swarm of shock the gold sees a second small figure dash through the opening made when he spun. In a moment, the gold’s mind switches. He who usually has control of his mind, can manipulate it and twist it, has a dark secret. A way to unhinge all that fine work. Rage. The wolves had decided to help him skip the long slow build up though. Turning that deadly gaze back to his hind and the wolf there in less than a second he’s in action. Other hind reaches out in hot comet barrels hoof towards the small body. Whether it hit or simply scared the dog is unknown, but he’s let go. Golden body was ready and surges, adrenaline blinding him to the blood running on that clean gold coat.

Surging forward in a blind fury he see the small figure making for the cave. Slowing to try and avoid the fires now beginning to roll, but taking heart in seeing the black coat slip into the cave. The gold takes advantage. Cloven hooves race forward, feeling the heat of the trail of fire, but rounds the wolf to back so the creature’s back is to the small flame wall. Sliding the golden seeks to corner to the wolf beast. Teeth bared, neck low, harks buried. He takes a step towards the creature, and that’s when he feels the sickening nerves wringle and twist in his gut. Breath catches. A rush a pain swells, it is not overwhelming, but having not felt the sting of air to flesh in years it is made worse. Picking it back up tenderly, the burning gold exhales in a snort and spits, “I’ll have your hid for that.” It doesn’t matter which of the two is there, or if both face him, he cares no. Maddening revenge boils through him. Head rose but twisted over and faced down, then it slashes. Curved blades, sharpened in anticipation of spars slash down in diagonal, like a knife blade, where the low canine’s body. The golden, cursing, that which lay hopefully under his horns, let them bleed.

The gold did not realize he stood between the foal cave and the wolf. Though the rage and revenge is personal, perhaps to unknowing eyes of his previous jollies it will appear he does nothing but protect the foals. If he was his usual self he might congratulate himself on that fact, but the rage was complete. For such a low creatures as these to sneak upon him with such venom he can find no sanity. We know it was his fault for allowing himself to let go and be absorbed in watching, but if you value your life I wouldn’t tell him that. Not right now anyway.



"Speech"
Tag;;
OOC;; Permission given by Chan (the NPC) to powerplay two of the wolves in this way as long as standard sparing rules (no strike certain) applied. NOTE TO NPC:: When he slashes down left it vague, didn't know where each wolf should be depending on damage.

SUMMARY;; Thranduil sneaks to hiding spot between boulders just outside Zikar's cave when he is attacked from behind by two wolves trying to slip by. One bites his hind leg the other runs past. Thranduil in rage, howls out, attempts to kick the one who bit him, then corners the other against the line of flames Aithniel created. Blocking the way to the cave, then slashes his horns down upon the wolf/wolves.

Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image

[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.

Déodat Posts: 174
Absent Abyss atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hands :: 12 HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Odette :: White German Shepherd :: None Minx
#11
There was a cry that broke the serenity of Déodat’s patrol. It took but a moment precisely for things to register what was unfolding. He turned his body and lunged at a full gallop in the direction of that desperate cry. Odette ran at his side, knowing full well what was to come with the trouble ahead. Once again Déodat found himself between a rock and a hard place with his companion. Should she fight or should she run? Of course, she wouldn’t willingly go when so many of her loved ones lie in trouble. That was it!

”Odette, go find Mira and make sure that she and Esther are safe,” He ordered the pup before they drew close to the fray. Obediently she charged off seeking the Blood Prince’s heir. Déodat would never forgive himself if his precious daughter were to be faced with the wolves. Silently he hoped Hotaru had found safety with their still unborn child inside of her. Inside the womb it still lived and he would not let any harm come to it.

As he approached with his hooves thundering against the ground, a fray had already begun. Sheer chaos filled the North and he noted to the left Lena along with Deimos and Krieger. Déodat slowed his pace slightly gaining more control as he aimed to draw up alongside his fellow warriors. With a violent cry he thrust himself onto his hindlegs and sought to come down upon the wolves. He propelled himself forward and flung out both hind legs as he went. These intruders would be grinded into the dust! They would find that this was no herd of sheep who panic and flee at the sight of trouble. This was the Basin, a den of lions filled with animosity and malice. Déodat would see these creatures destroyed and their heads mounted as a display for those who seek to harm his precious homeland.

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[Image: QV8O7HU.gif]
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
con by aihnna@dA




NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#12
NPC


The wolves were brave and daring to attempt the attack, but they hadn't bargained for such ferocious resistance!

As they surge in across the borders all the young, nimble canines avoid the defenses of the SENTINEL and move ahead unharmed like a pale wave, their eyes gleaming in the starry night and tongues flapping in excitement. The call to arms is issued by ZIKAR-SIN is answered by the piercing howl of the leader, who quickly lead the pack in the direction of the call.

Intercepted as DEIMOS responds the wolves slow down to fight him, snarling teeth snapping and ripping towards the dark hellion. Without warning two of them suddenly wobble; an unseen force has leached their strength and life-force away! But they are young and strong, the magic of the Reaper is not enough to completely extinguish their lights.
One of the unharmed predators attempts to lunge at the dark Lord, but finds its path crossed by KRIEGER. He swiftly manages to beat the wolf back down and further injures the other two, their injured howls and whimpers echoing in the calamitous night.

As LENA and IMOGEN arrives along with her fire-wielding companion the screams of pain from the invading forces increase; the healer successfully manage to injure all six of the wolves, through fail to herd all of them closer to the others. Instead three of them veer away from the main battle and run off towards the foals; one pursues AITHNIEL but is injured by her flames! Whimpering in dismay it slinks back to join the fray, only to meet its demise as TOLIO and join the fray and deal the death blow to the injured beasts.

The two strays that attack THRANDUIL put up a brave fight and manages to land some blows on the stag, but as he retaliates they are soon dealt with; succumbing to his furious hooves the last two wolves fall dead to the ground.

A sudden silence settle over Aurora Basin as the intruders finally lie defeated. The fires lit during the battle still burns, but the immediate danger is passed and the battle over.

Congratulations! You have protected your home from the attack!




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