the Rift


Revenge & Its Thrills

Solanine Posts: 15
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15 HH :: 5 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Adoptable
#1
She’d seen uglier days, uglier faces, and uglier demands than seasonal sparring… But that did not mean Solanine enjoyed “testing her skills” any more than she enjoyed eating stones. Never had she heard of her opponent but it mattered not, she was more interested in beating the shit out said participant so she could return to whatever daily life she inhabited in the Basin. Cold, unfeeling eyes weaved out over the tundra seemingly bored. She was hesitant to call upon whatever monster she was to face but at some point her solemn cry broke through the frozen breeze. Come little bitch, meet your maker. A smile turned her black lips upward before her gaze was averted back toward the tree line ahead.


Before her, an endless path of pine and oak stretched on into eternity and on either side of her rose twin peaks after which the Basin had earned its namesake. The tundra provided a most perfect battleground as it opened up all around her beneath the birdsong sun. Soft light danced along her back as she shifted anxiously while waiting for Tangra? Whatever, names weren’t important to Solanine, unless your name was Ophelia… The mare pondered briefly if her stunning lady was subject to the pains of sparring and then decided she wouldn’t mind it if she were… what a show.

Overcome with the need to see her Lady, Solanine rocked impatiently in place. Her hooves had worn a great circle around her growing shadow and she sighed heavily. Her muscles had grown tight with frustration and tension bloomed sporadically in her stomach. As per her breeding, the mare arched her neck with flawless grace. With a black gazed fixed ahead, Solanine uttered one final summons, only this time to herself. Kill the bitch if you have to, just make sure you win. No room for defeat in this life…

Setting: Clear, sunny day in the AURORA BASIN. Mountains rise up on either side and the forest opens just before where Solanine waits. The tundra is scattered with snowy patches as it is still affected by the cold. Time is MIDDAY.

Time Limit: Practice Spar |3 Posts each + I’ll have closing Defense| I want to finish this fairly quickly since I have a lot of other plots/posts I’m working on. Five days between posts as a limit please. If you can’t post within those 5 days please PM me.

OOC: You can have the first attack.

Solanine

You've been sanctified
image credits


@[Tangere]

Tangere Posts: 159
Aurora Basin Medic atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: Six Years | Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Phrixus :: White Raven :: None Psilo
#2


Seasonal Spars

The sun has climbed into the center of the sky, it’s heat making the stubborn snow crackle and melt under the unbroken orange glow. It’s time to go. She shoves off of her idle position amongst the hillocks, she’d been watching from a perch near the caves; collecting her thoughts before the fight. Her bird weaves several feet above her as she settles into a brisk jog, her eyes set on the path ahead, muddy and sloshed with ice, snow and cold moisture. Her coat is shaggy and half-fallen out, the soft curve of her muscles hides under the various patches of long winter fur that is no longer necessary. To the unknowing eye she appears like a tallish, pudgy pony unicorn – in reality she is of mixed ruffian blood. The Viking unicorns, you could say (I like to say it, anyway). No ponies, only unicorns; ruthless, blood-born warriors. Tangere rather enjoys the camouflage of looking shabby and tired. In reality she is a fairly fine-tuned athlete beneath the chameleon appearance. This is her first fight in Helovia though she has had many in her life before. She is no hero of combat, but she is not that bad either. In the culture of her ancestors fighting is as natural as keeping yourself fed. You just cannot live without the skill, in their opinion. She’s rather disappointed that she is completely armor-less for her spar today, but soon she’ll see that her opponent is as well and the notion will not be such a disadvantage as she thinks. She moves passed the quiet, flat lake, its water glittering like chrome under the bright lights of midday. She stops to admire the stillness for a moment, Phrixus circles back with a harassing caw before setting his course toward the evergreens and their maze thickets. She continues on without argument, toward where the pale raven has disappeared ahead.

When she arrives at the clearing her companion has found a branch to cling his long pinkish claws around, watching Tangere’s opponent with his beady frozen ocean eyes. Tangere is smiling, a genuine, joyous grin spread hungrily across her mottled rosy lips. She peels her body out of the shadows, branches grabbing at her shedding coat, holding the silver and white hairs as she slides by like a reptile casting off its old scales for new. Her heart-beat quickens, she can feel it in her chest as if it is bouncing around in a hollow chamber about to break from its fleshy cage. She does not feel this often, this animalistic urge, the craving to mount and slam the other body…the desire to dominate with little relent. Her smile melts into a smirk, her eyes eating up the gaze of Solanine, her dark, shallow stare held nothing – Tangere’s is the opposite, holding a map of her world inside each glassy mocha eye, squinting them with primal delight as she read the other mare’s body. She will be swift if she has any skill at all, she is a thin boned girl; quick like the wind, she assumes, sharp too…maybe. She doesn’t take more than a few seconds to size the mare up, by now she has paused facing her; the silver unicorn’s posture is tall and stiff, her ears perked aggressively forward with her nostrils displaying the same sort of energetic interest. She does not match Solanine’s impatient dance, instead she slashes her thin silky tail across each hip, striking a forefoot to the soft unfrozen earth. Her eye contact does not waver, her body tenses all over; it is a language all equine know. Her neck ripples with the tightness woven through each muscle, her hips and shoulders match its sinewy display. She is fit from all the travel she is always doing, the constant running, jumping, climbing and searching down the next herbal discovery. She thanks herself now for her addiction to her studies.

She dips her short, big cheeked face with a slow nod; slicing through the suggestive cord holding them back from one other.

Tangere rears back, she’s lightening quick, her opportunity to whack her heavy, well-worn hooves into the girl’s long fragile face is presented so easily – too easily, she does not take the bait and instead lets the attack come very close to purchase before dipping to the left and pivoting on a front foot. She has bluffed a frontal attack and instead circles back with her mouth agape, strands of glistening drool string from her eager mouth as it plunges for flesh. She has spun herself (or has attempted to, at the very least) to be shoulder to shoulder with the black mare, reaching with dull, yellowed teeth to clamp mercilessly onto the mare’s ear. If it is not the ear she can grab she will not go for anything else, she will only slash with hammering blows from her front feet, aiming for the mare’s face and perfectly craned little neck. If her mouth happens to find its intended target, the tender ear of the other fighter, she will pull it down toward the ground as far as she can with all of her weight solidifying in her front shoulders – she will try and drag her opponent down, her feet trying their best to strike where and when they could in her attempts to keep the mare from rising to her feet if she were to rip her ear free.
While they scuffle the pines look on, their needles bristle in the slight breeze, their roots peacefully sucking in the water that has finally thawed and trickles down into the soil below. It is such a natural thing that is happening in the muddy clearing surrounded by deep greens and murky browns of dirty snow. The mare’s wrestle, they’re opponents and team mates all in the same motion. The white feathered, blue eyed raven is hidden amongst the skeletons of the tall trees; watching them.

[Summary: Tangere faked a lunge and has turned around to grab Solanine’s ear, a sensitive place on a horse, and attempts to put her on the ground for the first round. Unless she happens to miss the ear and then in that case she will simply ‘bicycle’ Solanine’s face with her front feet(:

Attacks: 1/3

EDIT: To clarify the bicycle to the face thing - it was merely a comparison. When horses tussle, though i've only seen them playing (in person), they do a lot with their front limbs when they are in action...that is all i meant. If her efforts to grab the ear fail she will lean back and swing her front legs, like the action of a slow motion bicyclist. And the attack would be aimed at her face/skull. Hope that clears things up! Sorry, haven't done this in a while <3



tangere
AND THE DOVE OF HOPE
BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE...



  • You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
  • Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:

Odd the doer of things Posts: 115
Administrator atk: 23 | def: 42 | dam: 108
Mare :: Other :: 5"2 :: 27 HP: 108 | Buff: badass
Odd
#3
Please number your attacks!

Solanine Posts: 15
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15 HH :: 5 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Adoptable
#4
As a creature of wit and habit, Solanine watches with careful eyes as the steel-colored mare approaches. A lowly white Raven trails her pale sister and at some point ascends to the branches of a nearby tree. The Phantom’s hooves are ever-moving, ever ready for the sway of muscle and the slight of breath. She seeks signal of attack and does not miss it when it arrives. Tangere, as Solanine observes, is of heavier stock. Her barrel is rounded, protruding outward over thick legs. She is made not for agility like the Phantom but for power. This is a slight disadvantage for the banded girl but she worries little of her own ability, of her own stamina. She studies as the pale girl dips her head in greeting, watches as her eyes fill with excitement and greed while her opponent remains unfeeling and cautious. With neck still arched, but only loosely so, Solanine rumbles lightly in return. As soon as Tangere rights herself, her face lifted as signal to begin, she rises from both front feet intending to take aim at Solanine’s sculpted face. However, the pale one does not follow through and instead lands to Solanine’s right.

With hooves still waiting and muscles still clenched, the Phantom responds quickly by side-stepping to her left. She throws her head up in order to protect vital body parts from exposure in time to avoid the pale mare’s attempt at her right ear. However, Tangere is still able to lock ready teeth around the soft skin at Solanine’s throatlatch. She rips through the tender skin like a knife through fine silk and the blood pools in place of the unfettered seams. At first adrenaline appears to mask the pain of the attack, but the sensitive skin eventually catches fire and the Phantom screeches long in response. She lunges forward three feet to escape further attack but the pale mare is ruthless and throws her thick hooves into the back of Solanine’s right, front leg. The bones beneath are fragile and Tangere is able to force a sickening crack from within the Phantom’s ankle and it is lifted in favor, despite the circumstances.

Anger breeds heavily with Solanine’s chest and though the right front leg is still unbroken, it seethes with white fire when given weight to bear. But the Phantom is not foolish and knows that she must take advantage of the few moments she is given in order to retaliate. With Tangere hopefully just behind, on her right side, Solanine pleads with the surrounding mountains to give her strength and accuracy. Never before has she relied on anyone other than herself, but the Basin has given her new life and a second chance to seek retribution for past follies. Time seems to slow around her and black eyes search the barren landscape only to find eyes of ice peering back at her. The pale girl’s bird sits beyond in a high branch and the Phantom uses the opportunity to entreat the bond it shares with Tangere.

She smiles wickedly at the creature before gathering her weight and rolling it smoothly into her shoulders. She is quick due to breeding, but when the Phantom leans forward in order to buck toward Tangere’s left breast and shoulder, the pain in her right front leg peels another blood curdling scream from her chest. Her back legs are sent outward, with obvious effort, toward the pale one with her back right, leg being the closest to her opponent. But Solanine cannot be certain Tangere has not shied from her previous position. She hopes not only to alleviate skin from muscle but knock the wind out of the silver mare’s chest. When the Phantom’s back hooves once again find purchase on the frozen ground, a steady throbs begins to trail up her injured leg. At her throat, the blood flows freely and pain licks venomously around the wound, but it pales in comparison to the excruciating pain rendering her front leg tender.

All around, the Basin waits, watching. Solanine has never before had to stand toe-to-toe with an adversary but her excitement is undeniable. She attempts to remain cool and collected as she moves quickly, if not gingerly, forward again in order to arc right in hopes that it will once again place her face to face with Tangere.

Word Count: 800

Attack: 1/3

Summary: Solanine takes the bite to her neck region/throatlatch after throwing her head up to avoid Tangere’s attempt at her ear. She then moves forward, escaping the kicks to her head but is grazed in the back of her front, right leg. In moving forward, she hopes to buck Tangere in the left breast/shoulder area and then arcs around right in order to hopefully face her again.

Comments: I had a little trouble deciphering your attack. I understood the ear bite idea but I didn’t get how you were planning to “bicycle her face”. Solanine did not have her head dipped low… It was arched like this: Link I tried my best to make everything understandable in my response so PM me if something isn’t right or you don’t understand. <3

Solanine

You've been sanctified
image credits

Tangere Posts: 159
Aurora Basin Medic atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: Six Years | Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Phrixus :: White Raven :: None Psilo
#5
[ OOC: I left a note on my previous post before reading your response. My apologies for being rusty, I meant that she would be flailing with her front feet, hence the “bicycle” comparison. But it was my fault I think, for being unclear, so I’ll just go along with her kicking out after she bit. Though I hope that doesn’t make two attacks? The rearing up was only supposed to be if the bite didn’t land, but it did…on her throat…so that would mean she didn’t kick at her face with her front legs. A little confusing but I think I can easily just go with the flow <3 Thanks for your patience with me, you’ve been wonderful always ;D ]

@[Solanine]
They were sloppy together – almost as sloppy and terrible as Tangere’s first attack. Her feeble attempts a creativity, at tactic and cunning had nearly failed miserably. Nearly. If it not for Solanine’s matching lack of recent practice (or so it appears), Tangere would have been surely pinned and pushed into a muddy defeat by now; the Basin chose them well for each other.

It isn’t fury or unmanageable viciousness, but excitement as the girls sweat, grunt and jab at each other like a few stallions hungry for the same slit. There is something so delicious about the metallic taste of blood already drying to the corners of her fresh pink lips. She’s happy with her bite even if it missed the ear. The girl flung her head up instead of down, if Tangere had had a moment to ponder she would have thought that odd…but she had no time to ponder. For a small moment, as she blindly kicks away from her spar partner, landing one with a snap to her foreleg – in this flashing moment the silver mare reminds herself that she will indeed heal the wounds of this spar. Do not pity her, a voice tells her, perhaps it is the internal rattle of Phrixus’s communications. She’s stronger than you in many ways. She peers up at him quizzically and he returns no such stare, he is looking at the banded mare’s black eyes against her white mask. If birds could smirk he would have had a treacherous half-grin for her, but instead he did it with his cold blue eyes.

Starving for another bite, she was indeed on the heels of her quick moving partner. Solanine was fluid, rather than chunky, she was silk instead of wool.

Tangere thought it wise to press harder on her and reach out for another grab at her dark flesh. The silk is quick though, so very quick, Tangere cannot catch her. The mud has splattered all over, covering almost every inch of her, spackling her pale body from the under up; her tail dreadlocked with the half-dried clay-mud, her sparse gray mane matching. She has no time to react to Solanine’s sudden flick of her hind feet, luckily only one finds a landing – but the landing is brutal. There is a smack and a pop and Tangere’s front limb simply folds beneath her, there is nothing she can do to stop it. No amount of grace can recover her; she’s forced to just let it happen. It is as though she is above herself, watching as her body crunches into the mud with her tingling dead leg. It is an impossibly good land, just on the tip of her right shoulder, somehow striking the limb with no feeling for a few seconds. Nothing is broken, but something is definitely rocked behind the flesh and fur. She lies there, dazed, blinking those bright honey-chocolate eyes, she finds the blurry form of her opponent, of her surroundings and it seems to awaken her cold blood once again. She rises, bent and sore; she stands on all four feet to face the mare…both are favoring their right front legs, both breathing heavily into one another’s faces.

The raven has taken wing and circles them now, soundless except for the occasional flap of his massive wings. He’s getting bigger and bigger it seems, more like an eagle than a raven, like his ancestors. She notes this at an odd time, but doesn’t let the subject go farther in her mind.

The air is prickly and it’s evident that someone is going to strike soon. The pale mare would prefer it not be Solanine that attacks again and plucks the opportunity ever so smoothly out of the taut air. She plunges like a predator on its pray, mouth agape and snatching for the bridge of the black mare’s tender muzzle. Her power is taken away from her front and tips back onto her strong hind limbs, her throbbing shoulder starting to pinch with pain and swell with heat. She would be satisfied to grab anything in the facial region, really, her body could not take anything more than a primal snap of her dull teeth – perhaps it meant she was defeated or perhaps her partner felt the same.

She could not possibly last much longer, the pain will start to be unbearable soon and she will have to hide away and heal herself…and then heal others. Her mind was already deliriously wandering, she struggles to refocus it, to pin her tunnel vision to whatever it will focus on. She will pursue her biting attack, pushing her left (uninjured shoulder) into her opponents injured one in attempts to make her walk backwards while Tangere bites at her face.


---
Attacks: 2/3

<3: Solanine's attack lands perfectly and Tang takes a hard hit to her right shoulder, making her tumble into the mud and have to sit there for a few seconds while she comes to. Tang musters up some strength and goes in for a bite and some pushing, trying to avoid letting her injured shoulder be touch while pushing towards Sola's injured leg to try and make her fumble. Tang's in rough shape xD

tangere
AND THE DOVE OF HOPE
BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE...



  • You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
  • Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:

Sevin the Sucky, I mean are you a # or vacuum? Posts: 161
OOC Account
Mare :: Other :: 5'5" :: 25
Sevin
#6
Default to Tangere, +0.5VP


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