the Rift

[Bellona, Grave Champ] Dry Ice Burns

Agrona Posts: 115
Hidden Falls Tiro atk: 6 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: Seven HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Agrona | Carnage

The sun peered out from behind clouds over the vast field, birds singing in the comfortable weather as the day begins to turn the morning dew to a dry noon. Standing proudly in the center of the field, about ten yards away from the a tree nearest from the creek, I stare at my colorful opponent. Rags droop off of my slender body, soiled in filth and grime and my own blood; I look like I've just crawled from the depths of my tomb, my shrine. My eyes, sore and bloodshot in my skull, watch the mare across from me, the sun gleaming off of the colors that dance across her winged body. Both ears tip backward, the metal clanking against a bony antler as it scrapes by, and I dig at the soft earth with my right fore, beckoning the peahen to come at me without words. A snort rattles my thin chest, ears now laid back against rags and a venomous glare settling in my wild eyes.

A soft breeze gently lifts the ends of my thick tail, ticking the back of long legs. The birds stopped chirping, their songs fading into the open air while the tension builds in their once calm home. My back legs tense, front quarters lifting from the grassy earth and striking out into the air; a battle call in the form of a high pitch squeal raises the flags in my mind, and I am ready for this fight. From deep within my body, I can feel my father watching me, displeased with how I have turned out and where I now am. His eyes, as dull and far as they are, are always watching me with demise.

Without hesitation, I push my body toward my herd mate in a choppy canter, hoping to come to her left side (that is if she's facing me at this point) and kick out at her neck. Wet, hungry teeth snap together in my hot mouth, wanting so badly to reach out and grab a mouthful of feathers as I pass by the Sleuth's body. While I move, I reach out with my neck to snap at her left wing and my hindquarters raise from the earth, the chain clinging to my back right rattling and lashing my own belly as I tuck the same leg before it can extend out to reach Bellona's hide. I hope to hear the rusty metal pierce the Aztec's body and drag it's chipping layers across her wing, maybe snag off a couple of those gorgeous feathers just in case I hadn't plucked any before.

A powerful shove with one leg could be a good enough hit, but I don't dare leave myself too exposed and continue past her body. Once passed, I lean back into my own weight and turn clockwise in order to begin coming back around to either attack once more or dodge a bullet. The fire that constantly flickers in my belly feels good while small flames lick the walls of my stomach. This is what I live for.

Walking "Talking" Thinking
Setting: (As by Round One Stats) A grassy field that goes fetlock high, forgiving and not too wet. Some flowers and trees are around, a creek cuts through in one area near two trees. It's a nice clear and mildly sunny Birdsong day, 10 AM.
Costume: Agrona is a zombie mummy! Wrapped up in thin, tattered and bloodied cloth from her heels up. The cloth is loose in most places, being stretched out from moving and is beginning to unravel on her left fore and around her midsection; it also hangs loosely around her chest and neck. The wrap stops at her jaw and once more ravels loosely around her snout in two coils, covering from below her eye to nearly two inches before her chin. A rusty chain is coiled around her back right cannon, the slack dragging on the ground three inches behind her. Her eyes appear to be extremely bloodshot and her nose drips with slow, thick drops of blood. Even though her mane is wrapped below the cloth, it sticks out between random slits; her forelock is still visible and is now twisted into thick strands. Her tail is wrapped at only the dock, the rest is visible and free.
Move: 1/2 + closing
Summary: Agrona (assuming they are facing each other) charges at Bellona's left side. Once close enough, she reaches out to grab a hold of her flight feathers and kicks out at her neck/shoulder area with the same leg that is wrapped in rusty chain. Afterword, she continues past Bellona and turns into her right, headed back for more.
OOC: Sorry for taking so long and the horrid starter. I'm not even sure if I'm doing this right. ._.

Credits: code by Tamme | Image by Sarah | Stock Credits in the Link

Let me tell you something baby
You love me for everything you hate me for
[Image: 542f83afbdf08]
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Bellona Posts: 111
Hidden Account
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0hh :: 7 years old Buff: NOVICE
Mictla :: Common Rougarou :: Shadow Nyte
To win the war, but flee the battle, is one of the Gods' greatest sins.

A playful wind stirs bright locks, carrying the fresh scent of grass with it in its journey to the towering heights of the maiden’s crown. This last descriptor of the fierce maiden is no hyperbole, though, for atop the blue hues of her head sits the macabre figure of a crown formed of bones. Where the materials for such a thing come from is questionable, but the thought of the costume’s origin does not concern the one who is wearing it; in the peahen’s opinion, the bones that she wears over top her own skeleton heighten the oxymoron brought to life by her body. What better way to display that such a beauty can be so dangerous than to display the bones of past enemies upon it? Not that any of these are real – or are they?

The bleached tones of the armor almost seem to glow as the sun hits them, and a devious smile curls blue lips. If the brilliant warrior is known for anything it is for her resourcefulness, and even though the bones are worn for fun she can’t help but to consider using them to her advantage. The rough material is not nearly reflective enough for the idea that promptly comes to mind, but she does not throw the thought away completely. If her state of dress cannot be used for distraction’s purposes can it be useful for something else? Bright eyes seek out their white-garbed opponent as lean pillars continue with their promenade. The striped limbs halt when she has caught sight of the mare, and vibrant ears press forwards in surprise.

While the skeletal creature studies the bloody robes around the unicorn, a dark creature pads up beside her, peering up the crowned woman as if seeking her approval. Unblinking orbs continue to scrutinize the bandaged figure, ignoring the plea in the bond to finish her study of the horned beast. The other vixen’s hide has already been stained crimson, and the prospect of taking on a wounded opponent unsettles the bird. Her mannerisms are fleetingly feminine, that is true, but at least she can house some form of concern in the pits of her churning belly. All manner of reluctance is set aside as soon as the specter beckons her forth, and striped forelegs rise up to batter at the air, returning the lady’s call to battle.

Regarding the boy at last, the crowned vixen releases broad wings to send the hyena skittering to the right. A harsh gleam and a spark of excitement pierce her stare at once, and she directs the look upon her companion to make certain that he will understand. Are you ready, Mictla? Do not let her reach you. Go around behind her if you can. Magnificent limbs stir the air as she watches him go, encouraging him to move swiftly through the cropped grass so that he will not be detected. Pride erupts inside of her like a tidal wave, coating her insides with its froth and drowning out anything else that might have been there. His scrawny frame sticks out among the drying grass, and for once she does not reprimand him for it; her boy will do the best with what he has, and so far he has not caused too much grief by doing so. She does not watch his spotted hide for long when the sound of speeding hooves reaches her ears, increasing in volume and joining with the clink of a chain that she has not noticed before.

In the span of a few heartbeats the bird is plucked by gnashing porcelains, and a cry of annoyance more than outrage spills forth from her gaping maw. A crowned head turns to go after the demon, causing her body to swing left in her pursuit, but bandaged quarters do as they have intended to and rise up to make contact with the maiden’s girth. It is perhaps the most basic of moves but it does the trick, for pain spreads out in a starburst of passion from the paint where the chained leg has reached her. A limp is sure to plague her for part of the battle – if not all of it – but the peahen is too focused on retaliation to care. As expected by one so recently wounded, the maiden’s pace is slowed and she cannot gain speed as swiftly as she is used to, but that does not deter her from her rear. Striped quarters bunch up in the efforts of taking on her weight, and blunt hooves churn the air as if climbing an invisible mountain. Should the bird have timed her attack right, the dark weapons will hopefully have met with the unicorn’s right shoulder, but she will not complain if they reach her chest instead.

"Talk talk talk."

{WC: 799|Attack: 1/2|Defense: _/0}

Thank you Vossity <3
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Permission granted for physical harassment!

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
This fight defaults to Bellona.
 HP: 1100

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