the Rift

Its Getting Hot in Here [Graveyard/ Cheveyo]

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

Oh shit. Bright lights blare into the golden son’s vision, blinding him at first to where he had been let loose. The first thing he noticed though was something tight about his neck. Shaking his twin horned head the gold felt several other odd things that made him freeze. A top his head covering the base of his crown, but rising between them was tied a bright white wig, rolled and curled on top of itself, with a few strands tickling his ears. Tight across his neck hung several necklaces, and at his shoulder circled a white, but thin collar. Leather on the inside, and for the ribs of it which stuck out a foot, but white lace connecting them. In shaking it, he felt its spines prod into his golden flesh. Covering the rest of him was a large sheet, no wait, it can’t be. The golden panicked and looked back, but it was true. It was the worst, a large, purple velvet dress. Its front, which ran down to his knees was solid fabric, and tressled at the ends, but over his back it looked like someone had forgotten to tie up! Straps crisscross loose and messy, showing a flash of golden coat underneath.

Stumbling back in horror the gold slammed into a long table. Swinging his head around he catches sight of his once proud face. It was now, snow white. Earth eyes large and unbelieving were outlined in dark red liners and eye shadows, and to top it off in a carnival of perfect terror, bright red lipstick lined those sly lips. The crowing piece, was of course, a tiara, circling the wig its diamond studded swirls and twisted brightly flashed in this place’s lights. All in all, not only was the gold finding himself to be dressed for the wrong sex, but he was a slut. The fight was forgotten, the panic striking the gold’s chest deep and sharp. Wigged head tossed about in a fear but found walls closed in, trapped.

A rustle behind him, a clinking of metal, and the gold’s panicked face solidifies to confusion. Then, it struck. Slicing through his velvet dress, it cut across his back in a searing, freezing, screaming pain. A shrill cry rang out and echoed against the walls as the gold leapt forward and away. Nothing he did though would escape the damage done. Fabric cut, and red blood beginning to stain the dress across the top of his rump, the cut was deep and long. Gasping the gold looked back to see a wildly grinning creature with a bloodied knife laughing. Teeth bared, head lowered, ready, for that was all it took to get the gold back in the game, dressed as a slutty queen or not.

Gathering the rest of his surroundings, and noting the creature with the knife moving around from him cautiously the gold at last turns to his opponent. The long collar prodded his neck though, causing the gold to have to turn to see about him. Damn, fashion is a bitch. Sweat began to roll off the golden’s shoulders under his dress and for the first time, he noticed heat growing in the room. Body turned to let him see the room to find its source before a wicked grin rose on those ruby lips and a devlish spark flashed on that powdered face. Shoulders lifted up to gather himself, and he moves off at a three beat towards his victim, opponent. But wait, there’s a hang up, literally. While the dress only can down to his knees in the front, the back, having been sliced by the chef now fell to the floor, and in trying to canter, the gold had stepped on the end. A sickening rip sliced through the air and the gold stops, only to have the bottom of his dress fall to the floor around his hooves, leaving a short skirt poofing about his hips, tainted on the end with blood, the cur having been aggravated by the movement again. Well, at least he could move, and luckily for the gold, the collar kept him from seeing the full horror of the short skirt.

Shaking his wigged head the gold picks up his beat again, rolling through the pain, he turns, angling his body to where he had last seen his oppenent’s shoulder and barrel. Power pushed off with each kick, lacey collar flapping in the breeze, and powered face tight with readiness for impact. Charging as he was he hoped to slam into the other, and shove them off to their right, for there against the wall was the open hot oven. Who says mini skirts don't add a little heat to the game?

ATTACK :: 1/2 +closing defense
TAG :: @[Cheveyo]
WC :: 781
INJURY :: A slice across his rump which runs a foot in length, and at its deepest, half an inch thick, will scab in the next thread::
SETTING :: As set, by the Graveyard, in a kitchen.
SUMMARY :: Thranduil in the horror of finding himself in a dress stumbles back into one of the tables, only to be sliced on his rump by the chef behind it. Coming forward to attack his oppenent he tears his dress, to be a mini skirt. Rocking it in a mini skirt though, he comes at Cheveyo's shoulder hoping to ram her and push her into one of the oven's on the side.
COSTUME:: Thranduil, much to his horror (hey it is Halloween) is a slutty Queen. He wears a white wig, tiara and make-up. Around his neck are tight necklaces like collars, and a poofy collar like Queen Elizabeth wore. His dress is purple velvet, where the arm parts come to the knees of his front legs, and the long dress to the hocks of his back legs, which in the course of this post has been torn off into a mini skirt. To complete the look, the back lacings of his dress on his back have already been undone, but for some reason its still tight....maybe its never meant to be laced up close? XP


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

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