the Rift


Reynier vs. Africa

Reynier Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1



Reynier vs. Africa

3 attacks + 1 closing defense
Standard timeline
No restrictions on magic or companions
Set on the northern border of Deep Forest, late afternoon w/ clear skies and mildly cool temps



He tore at the grass with a petulant vigor, grabbing low on viridian stalks and jerking whole clumps loose from the ground. The normalcy of feeding his own body irked Reynier. He shook each mouthful free of dirt and moisture as if admonishing himself for succumbing to such a trivial necessity. He saw himself as so much more than a horse; he was a disciple, a messenger of the gods, a prophet. Yet here he stood, picking and chewing and swallowing the same earthly fodder as any other livestock.

Given a choice, he would have taken up a carnivorous diet. The roan was after all, a predator. He hunted, tortured, murdered, and utterly destroyed in the name of the gods. That was his calling in life, the word given to him from above. He’d tried to make the switch on his own once, long before venturing into Helovian lands. He’d gnawed at one victim for days, square teeth completely unsuited to the task of cutting through tough meat and even less so to splintering cases of bone around deposits of marrow.

The memory was lost to him, along with so many others, but his body still remembered the hours of deprivation, the cramps and indigestion of a stomach forced to break down foreign foods without the proper enzymes. It seemed to resent him still for the experience and drove cravings of grass and grain into his mind with more enthusiasm than ever, stubbornly rejecting any alternative.

So he bent to the task, no more acceptance soothing his mind now than the hundreds of times before. This affliction of commonness was just another trial intended to separate the true followers from the weak and impulsive. He knew this, and carried his burdens without complaint if not without emotion. The gods would reward him for remaining faithful and once he had truly proven his worth their blessing would allow him to become more than just the body he lived in. All he needed was an opportunity to impress.


Word Count: 336/800 Intro post
Attack: 0/3


OOC: Please note, if Africa uses her [Time x Light] magic to look into Rainy’s mind and see his memories she won't be able to see anything from before his entering the Threshold as he does not remember anything before Helovia and much of his current memories are blurry or jumbled due to his seizures. It would likely do more harm to her than to him. Obviously feel free to do whatever you want, this is just an FYI. :)

@[Africa]



Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#2
Almost a season had passed already, since Africa had traded her beloved, long term desert home for the lonely depths of the Deep Forest – a haven of old – a place that was yet to be tarnished with tortured memories and pain. It was beneath the gnarled limbs of ancient timber that she had hidden away from the winter; from emotions and life itself. She had withered in its twisted shadow, abandoned direction and lost all hope, but from the midst of depression had come an unexpected angel of salvation.

It was he who filled the Starry-Eyed’s mind as she sauntered into the south; into whispering southerly wind as quiet as the dreaming trees it caressed. The Sun was sinking towards the horizon in the west, and rich, red afternoon light heralded the arrival of the burning pegasus mare. She hummed a fond tune as she went; frivolous again, blithe, stumbling hither and thither as though drunk – and in a sense she was...

They were searching for the velvet-fur roots of arboreal ferns – a tasty token of her affection, and she was reluctant to turn home empty handed.

"If you see any tell me!" Sparkling tone rang out like clarion bells through the calm of the forest, but Africa barely seemed to notice. Her ashen face danced merrily between the tree’s lowest limbs and tallest saplings beneath, quite oblivious to the racket of her passing. It had been many years since she had felt so free of weight, and like those times long ago, the dappled mare fell beneath a dense cloud of naivety.

Even a scent that should have stirred fear through her heart, seemed to evade her awareness.

It was Silas who noticed him nestled in the murk. The shrewd avian remembered well the rabid hunger which had resonated through every twitch of his ugly, roan body, and a warning rumbled through his chest; suspicious, angry. Silent, star-speckled wings dipped instantly, and as he swooped nearer to his beloved (though ahead) in defence, the marvellous array of ornate feathers upon him flared boldly.

Africa’s stupor dissolved instantly, and long sooty ears swivelled anxiously as her pale eyes strained to find the source of her bonded’s disquiet. "No..." she gulped disbelievingly as pale, yellow eyes discovered the stallion through the trees in front, and already her lean, stockinged forelegs were stumbling clumsily in reverse. Did he see us? She wasn’t sure, and fearfully gaping nostrils drew a timid breath to hold.



Words: 413
Attack:0/3 Intro
@[Reynier]

Africa

Reynier Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#3


The light of day weakened and began to shrink away from the earth, compressing into bold lines of color and a single golden ball that rolled farther down the horizon with each passing minute. Darkness spilled across the land in inky tendrils, a monochromatic mirror to the sky’s neon aurora of pinks and oranges. Roused by the fading light, shadows began to wake.

They yawned as one, swelled within the confines of their daytime shackles and pushed outward, using their newfound strength to warp into impossible caricatures of the physical world. A stallion paused to watch, his eyes darting from one spreading stain to another. He lingered over the spectacle, derision tilting the corners of his mouth into an uncharacteristic grin as he watched his own dark imprint join the desperate crawl for freedom.

Each day the shadow stalked, harassed, and chided the stallion for this or for that and each night he watched its frantic struggle with a spiteful satisfaction. Total darkness had always granted the pair their independence, but not even the deeply seated resentment of an aberrant mind could deny the roan’s small sadness in those hours or the relief that came each morning when he woke to find the shadow firmly reattached. In a life of frenzied movement and jumbled memories it truly was his only constant.

One black rimmed ear twisted slowly in suspicion. There was nothing of the usual haphazard enthusiasm today. The shadow moved with an overt precision, narrowing down to a mere sliver and extending outward as far as it could reach, almost pointing. A flicker of contrast snapped the roan’s attention out beyond the range of silhouettes and suddenly the shadows meaning registered.

She was all ears and nostrils, head held high and tense. There were no white eyed witches to bolster her today, no shaggy champions to hide behind. The rangy, one winged mare was all alone and the fear of it lay plain across her face. A black, limitless hunger rumbled through the stallion’s bowels. It ricocheted through his bulky frame and emerged as a deep, rolling laugh.

Ears and lips folded away to nothing, making the long, angular head appear to be all teeth and wide, menacing eyes that stared with unnerving clarity. Reynier was a beast by every definition, but he was not the mindless barbarian some imagined. Unclouded by modern convention, he saw things for what they really were, not the projections they created. The mare had shown him weakness in the Threshold and she had shown him weakness here.

He charged forward.

Every muscle strained, flinging his heavy forelegs ahead as far as they could reach. He galloped headlong, never curbing the leverage between deeply flexed hocks and the ground they thrust against. Black hooves beat in rapid succession, counting down the shrinking meters between predator and prey.

Five. Four. Three.

The roan swung his head low, dropping one shoulder to dodge away from the head on collision and bring his approach to the mares left side. He paid in precious seconds for the maneuver, but it gave his raking eyes time to settle on the depression that marked her absent left wing. Scar tissue bubbled thick and discolored from the empty socket, forming a perfect bull’s eye for the stallion's attack.

He threw himself against the mark, neck inverting to raise his head and offer the broader surfaces of chest, neck, and upper forelegs as a battering ram.

He had seen the natural leanness that would give the mare mobility and speed, but she was fearful and she was imbalanced by the missing wing. Cowardice would be her way, retreat if possible. He could only hope the swiftness and brutality of his assault would be enough to land the blow and force her into combat.



Word Count: 631/800
Attack: 1/3

OOC: He charged directly at Africa, hoping to slam his full body weight into hers before she could fully react. In the last second of the approach he swung wide to her left, attempting to collide with her at the site of the removed left wing to cause localized pain as well as the generalized pain of being body slammed and so that if he did hit her and she did go down there would be a chance of her landing on the already damaged right wing, possibly causing more damage.

@[Africa]

Image Credits
Table by Nicole (Niki)

Africa the Starry-Eyed Posts: 727
Deceased
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16 :: 6 (Tallsun) Buff: NOVICE
Silas :: Common Zephyr :: Roc Riven
#4
Oh...Silas... "Silas!"

The sound breached parting lips as nothing but a panicked whimper, a desperate cry for help. She remembered all too well the ruthless snarl of his voice. The cutting remark once made seemed to echo sardonically throughout her mind, even as she scrambled now, once again, to be rid of him.

A lopsided frown, riddled with resentment and fear, furrowed through her gentle-natured expression and a sentiment similar seemed to spread through her like foul odour in a cave -she could do nothing to mask it from his sight. Africa felt like a foal again, tripping over herself in vain bid to escape looming shadows – but this was more serious than a child’s phobia. This was life, or death.

The roan turned with all of the subtlety of a frog’s song to the rain. Sinister laughter rolled from his cruel lips before they peeled from stained teeth in a most unpleasant, intimidating fashion. She could hardly believe it. The one-winged felt like a magnet for strife, it hounded her relentlessly, snapped constantly at her heels. All at once the blood seemed to drain from her skull and pool like lead-weights in her scuffling hooves. Move! she urged fretfully, but fear had numbed her, stunned her and she dithered uselessly like a possum framed by lightening.

He lunged doggedly towards her – a wolf upon his prey – and Africa cried out ridiculously as terror reigned supreme above logic through her mind. Perhaps a wiser creature might have turned at that point to flee, bristled at least, or moved forward to lessen the power of his barge; but instead light-golden eyes rolled back as she shied, rocking hard against taut thighs.

The thunder of calculated steps echoed like war-drums all around, trapped it seemed (like warmth beneath cloud-cover), by the canopy overhead. It was an ominous sound that overwhelmed her throbbing, frantically turning ears. The stallion came at her far more quickly than expected, and a strident scream from her swooping bonded forced small clarity through the dappled mare’s mind.

Focus, he urged – she was wasting valuable seconds and he had not enough time left to save her.

Sooty ear swivelled to note the steady presence of her companion, and his instruction filtered through the onslaught of irrationality in her spinning mind. Ok... she answered, preparing mentally (visibly) to follow any further coaching he might offer. But as she turned her daft attention to their bond for only a split second, the brute swung wide to her left and collided brutally into her naked, scarred shoulder. Breath was knocked from her chest with a hearty whoop, as the intended impact of his body sent her catapulting right, and lone wing extended impulsively into the rising forest-litter to attempt to right her sprawling balance.

Ligaments and tendons around slim, strong wing-bones were drawn to their limit, but as her weight teetered upon the splayed feathers below, joints began to hyper-flex. Agony prickled like crimson stars behind her wincing eyelids – no doubt it would hang weakly as a result, ineffective...

Though the scar-tissue canvassing the left, empty wing-socket had long been numb to sensation (shallow nerves damaged when the appendage had been so gruesomely torn away), the fiend’s attack ricocheted violently along every bone in her sternum, forcing joints upon each other unnaturally – jarring them – provoking pain through her fore-quarters enough to draw a flood of burning tears from her eyes. The slope of her hit shoulder (the vicinity of the socket), throbbed as blood rushed blindly amid tides of adrenaline to scout for damage – it was all internal, muscular and bruising, though cataclysmic nonetheless. Sweat leaked to stain grey puddles black, and the sharp pheromone of fear cloaked her trembling, wounded body like glow around the moon.

Silas screamed with such rage, that the shrill, piercing tone turned even the skin of his beloved cold.

When Africa found stability at last, haunches gathered the hooves below to throw backwards a hefty double-barrel kick, and though the manoeuvre was achieved – reinforced too, with all of the strength she could muster – the aching forward-half of her began to collapse. Shoulders shuddered helplessly as she began to topple headlong, but Silas called hurriedly through thought, shift-shape! Do it now!

The Zephyr’s wings steadied the flow of time around them, working meticulously to slow it further and aid her escape. Though her bones warped and twisted painfully to execute the transformation in no rapid way, the gift given by her companion meant that potentially, from the stallion’s perspective, she could appear to morph instantly.

Twin wings, carried the stocky parrot only a small distance (two horse lengths at most with the residue of pain), and Silas spared her time enough again, to prepare herself.



Words: 800
Attack: 1/3
Notes:
*Silas used: Roc: a night-dark bird speckled with stars that is able to change the time of day and slow or speed time with its wing beats.
*Africa used :: [Magic: Earth | Able to transform into an African Grey Parrot.]
:: [Restrictions| Transformation is painful, can only transform once in battle.]

Africa
@Reynier

Reynier Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#5



Paralyzed by fear, the grey raised no defense and the stallion met his mark with bone crushing force. The full velocity of his charge transferred to the mare’s smaller body on impact and hurled her away while the roan was jarred to a violent halt.

He staggered, unbalanced by the sudden cessation of forward movement. Muscles coiled along his back and haunches, straining to bring his weight back off the forehand and lighten his shoulders for greater mobility. The adjustment took only a moment, but as he righted himself a piercing shriek split across the stallion’s eardrums, breaking off all thought of the next attack.

The grey’s shadow bird circled overhead, buffeting the roan’s ears with shrill waves of rage no matter how tightly he folded them. He ground his teeth in irritation, struggling to forcibly dismiss the creature from thought. He remembered how it had bristled and flashed that same hateful glare the first time they met and how quickly it had retreated when faced with the stallion’s own bugle of challenge. The bird was nothing more than a distraction, a mother hen squawking in helpless agitation as the snake devoured her brood, but the thing had prodigious lungs. It was only through sheer willpower that the roan turned his full attention back to the grey, though too late to avoid her backward kick.

Two matching hooves landed square in the stallion’s chest and shoved him backward. The kick forced a surprised grunt from deep in his lungs, but it quickly morphed into a rumble of renewed laughter as the softness of the grey’s attack registered. She would be lucky to leave a few broken blood vessels beneath his mottled skin; the perfect legacy of her weak and short lived struggle.

Again the stallion sank low over his hocks, this time lifting his sternum and bending his forelegs against it to hold himself in levade. He was eager to lunge forward and his muscles quivered with the strain of denying himself, but he knew the mare would fall to her own inadequacies and the hunger to witness her total despair was greater. His heart pounded relentlessly as he watched the grey’s front end begin to crumple beneath her, but in the moment that her broken body should have met the ground she vanished, seemingly in an instant. The stallion froze, a mixture of confusion and curiosity pulling his ears forward.

A flutter of grey snatched his attention and some small, grey bird flapped its wings this way and that, struggling to vacate the space the grey mare had occupied only a second earlier. The stallion watched, dumbfounded. His front hooves touched ground so that he stood square, but still immobile. Another fraction of a second passed and the grey bird collapsed, expanding back into the form of the broken grey mare. She laid in a heap just a few steps away, seemingly even worse off than before. Understanding clanged through the roan’s mind, dragging a sad and ironic mirth with it.

“The gods give you two fully functional wings and still you cannot fly.”

He didn’t wait to see the hurt of his words well up in the grey mare’s eyes. Her failure was undeniable. Her magic could not help her, her shadow bird would not help her, and she was utterly incapable of helping herself. The only value left to her name was what could be gleaned through her death. The stallion cocked his head and traced his eyes from dappled cheek to sweat soaked chest, following the visible indentation of the mare’s jugular groove. He could see it pulsing against her skin and his own blood quickened in his veins in response.

Confident in his success, the roan let loose his excitement and hopped forward in a spontaneous surge of power, his neck arched and his back rounded to bring his front end down on top of the mare’s sprawled form. His thoughts raced ahead of his actions as excitement neared frenzy, conjuring up a picture of himself kneeled down on the mare, his forelegs tucked beneath his sternum and her prone body pinned beneath his pressing weight. In the vision his upper lip stretched forward and his mouth hung open to grasp the flickering crest of her neck in a primordial show of dominance and aggression, though the force of his bite and the thrashing of his head and neck to follow it would lend the real aggression to his actions.


Word Count: 745
Attack: 2/3

OOC: He’ll have minor bruising of the pectoral muscles from Africa’s kick, but it won’t cause any particular discomfort unless something physically presses against his chest. For his attack he jumped forward and tried to pin Africa beneath his front legs and sternum and hold her there with the weight of his body. Physically pinning her down isn’t intended to be an attack, though it could probably cause some harm from his enthusiasm. He more just wants her trapped in this position so he can shred her face and neck like a jealous cat shreds your boyfriends furniture ravage her with kisses? xD Just kidding. He wants to bite down on the crest of her neck and thrash around a bit.
@[Africa]

Image Credits
Table by Nicole (Niki)

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


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