the Rift


So if you don't rate, just overcompensate [Keidajen]

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

Kipling trotted hurriedly under the fading night sky, thoughts abuzz following a few winks of restless sleep. A few days ago, he had borne witness to a mighty kerfuffle in the meadow at Helovia’s heart. Ever since, he hadn’t been able to shake the epic imagery from his mind. Clashing hooves, bared teeth, torn hides - all of it happening in a series of dramatic flashes through the sizzling heat of high noon in Tallsun. So. Awesome! He wanted in. Like… immediately.


Inspired, Kipling spent a few days in intense training. Sure, of course it would take more than a few days to turn the scrawny stallion’s physique into anything battle-worthy, but no one told him that. He sprinted, he rolled logs, he swam, he pushed himself to the very brink. And then he started to feel sore and it was getting kind of boring, so he guessed that meant he was ready to knock hooves and gnash teeth with the best of them. As soon as the sun was up, he was raring to go. Without even pausing for breakfast, he hurried off to the site of the scene that had made such an impression on him.


It wasn’t hot yet, but the air was sticky and thick in a way that promised to be brutal later. Kipling wasn’t bothered. He had some asses to kick. He swooped into the meadow in a flurry of excitement, announcing his arrival with a piercing, shrill whinny. His slender auburn frame flowed quickly through the field, weaving around the sparse trees that dotted the landscape and finally settling to a halt with the northern branch of the stream at his back. Here, he had unwittingly selected an excellent vantage point – the glare of the rising sun was indirect at his side, and he had an unobstructed view of the open grassland before him. He hastily used his horn to push his newly-acquired bag off his foreleg and flung it into the roots of a nearby tree. Then, he was ready.


“Come on!” Kipling cried in his best attempt at a threatening battle cry (which actually sounded about as menacing as a toothless puppy’s growl – perhaps he should’ve spent a couple hours practicing that badass fight voice thing). “Come and fight me!” He reared and thrashed his forelegs – another display of bravado – then landed and puffed out his chest. He raised his head proudly and concluded his challenge with a sharp exhale: “Let’s go!”




0/3, 410 words (using wordcounter.net)

Standard timeline, 3 attacks + closing defense
Magic/companions allowed


Setting: Thistle Meadow, just after sunrise on a cloudless day. It’s an open, grassy area on the northern banks of the upper stream with a few solitary trees closer to the shore, where Kipling has tossed his bag. Everything is very still and it is already quite warm. Kipling is posturing for a fight.

@[Keidajen] Would you like to be tagged?

Once upon a time called Right Now


Keidajen Posts: 17
Hidden Account atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14 hh :: 4 Years HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
TierRen
#2
Keidajen


The soul of a unicorn is not one that was made to exist in shadow. My heart yearns for the warmth of day. I want to graze where the tall grasses dance for their dear sun, but I am part of the night's symphony. I allow it to make use of the heavy words of my mournful heart and in exchange it accepts me as the day does not.

I stand in the midst of the world I so want to be a part of. I'm painfully out of place but I can still pretend. Wistfully I close my eyes and I imagine myself to be everything but what I have become.

Whenever a voice rings out for a fight my breath stills and a soft whisper of a smile comes before my eyes snap open. It's exactly what I need. I amble towards the stallion who had called out. I want to make him wait. Let him get himself worked up at my approach. Much can be learned about an opponent by how they react to an oncoming competitor. I come to a sliding halt a few feet away from him. "I fight."

I want this spar too badly to wait for his acceptance. With smooth elegance I close the distance between us to cross our horns in a display of respect towards our competition. To touch my horn to his I have to lift my head but I toss my maw into the air with the flair of arrogance. He will not make any assumptions based on my height. If he does he has no chance in hell at winning; none who underestimate me ever do, for it only fuels my fire.

"Fight be fair." My expression has gone serious. With eyes clouded by the ghosts from previous battles I lock my gaze onto his own. This stallion appears so much more youthful than I. He's a safe harbor for a soul never touched by the darkness of heated battle. "I, Keidajen, promise." Would he still take me on if he knew what I'm capable of? After making my vow I step back.

I'll remain fair but I will not be gentle. If a fight is what he wishes I'll give him one. I'll give him a lesson. I will show him that battle is more than brute force. It is a dance and today I will teach him of some of the steps. A smirk turns my stoic expression upwards; I'll also teach him to lose.

Casting a quick glance to the skyward kingdom of the sun I frown at the sight of not a single cloud. Anytime that the sun shines in my face I will be vulnerable but this will be my first moment to prove that I am still the same Keidajen I've always been. I'm a fighter to the core. It's only a disability if it is allowed to be one and I will not allow something as insignificant as an eye pain to weaken me.

Already adrenaline pulses through my veins. Any who pursue the life of a warrior are addicts. I'm one myself. The rush of our oncoming spar puts a spark of life back into my eyes that has been absent since I entered into Helovia. This is the first time that I have felt alive in weeks. I feel the desire to fight in the same way that my lungs crave the air.

I pace back and forth, from left to right, watching him carefully. He's much taller than I and has a body built for speed but his frame lacks the muscular build of my own. He has not had the experience that has shaped my body. I wonder if this is is first fight? Awh, I could be his first.

Throwing my entire body into the motion I launch myself at his right side with my teeth bared. I hope to land an attack where I am able to dance away from him easily. If my teeth meet their mark he will be left with nothing more than a scrape. It isn't much, but I need to be the one to land the first hit.

Our match will be one of speed versus agility. I take my chances and I stay closer to him rather than backing off once more. In a close range spar I will be able to dodge any speedy advances he might make with more ease. My aim is to confine his movement.

A whinny sounds from my mouth and rings out like a trumpet. Surprise slows my momentum. I had forgotten what happiness sounds like coming from my own throat.

A laugh, rusty from little use, bursts free from its chains.


___________________________________________________

Attack: 1/3
Attack: Keidajen lunged at Kipling's right side attempting to bite.
Word Count: 762

@[Kipling] yeah, I love to be tagged. How about you?


We will be counting stars
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image by Yew

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

Oh boy! Someone was coming!


At first, the creature seemed more mirage than anything else. An ethereal little wisp of a unicorn approached from across the meadow like something straight from a storybook: pearly and small and covering ground like liquid silk. Kipling tilted his head inquisitively as if to confirm to himself, this is real. Someone heard him – an exquisite, enchantingly strange someone – and now he was going to fight. Really. Slowly, without the slightest self-awareness, Kipling began to jig in place; he physically buzzed with anticipation as he watched this agonizingly slow, patient approach.


His restlessness reached its climax as his opponent finally closed the distance between them. As she slid to a stop, he damn near burst on the spot, crow-hopping lightly off the ground in a fit of excitement. “Yeah! Fight! Me, too!”


Kipling’s own inexperience showed in stark contrast to everything the smaller mare did. She reached up to cross horns in a classy pre-fight exchange, and he giggle-snorted loudly at the strange, hollow sensation it produced. She seemed totally in control and aware of what to say and do, and he could only smile awkwardly at her sudden seriousness. This was just fun, right? He wasn’t trying to sign up for some mortal combat shit. Hesitating, he made a graceless attempt at mirroring her introduction, stammering back, “I, Kipling… um… okay, then.”


Mercifully, the awkward small talk ended on that eloquent note.


Kipling could feel Keidajen scrutinizing him. Her peculiar eyes traced him, but the stallion hadn’t the slightest idea what they sought in the sharp angles and long curves of his inelegant body. He stood rooted to his spot, too uneducated in the art of sparring to understand “evasiveness” or “how not to be a sitting duck.” Curious, he watched her watching him. Kipling was always interested in the chance to gawk at someone else, but he could not fathom what this had to do with fighting. This was all wrong. Where was the drama, the clattering hooves, the kicking and biting?


Oh. There it was.


The mare flashed forward in a quick burst of agility, angling towards Kipling’s right side. Less coordinated and lacking the benefit of foresight, he kept his rooted position several moments too long. Instinct bailed him out at the last second and sent him scrambling to his left, but it was too late to avoid the blow entirely. Teeth closed a few inches above the elbow, ripping a mouthful of red hair from his coat. “Ow!” He yelped, a reaction born as much from surprise as from actual pain. A pair of thin red lines beaded to the surface of his skin, bracketing the new bald patch. Surprise yielded to pride, which salved his virgin wound. I did it! I’m fighting!


Once he had finally set into motion, Kipling did what he was bred to do: he seized his momentum and bolted out into the open meadow. He had travelled only a dozen strides when the first trickles of sweat began to dampen his coat, and the sting of salt mingling in the shallow incisions stole his attention. He wanted to run away and find a place where he could inspect his battle wound – his imagination had already tripled the scrape’s size and impressiveness, and he swelled with self-righteous satisfaction as he pictured himself retelling the story of his epic fight…


That was when Kipling realized that he could not flee. The story he fancied became a lot less awe-worthy when he would be forced to admit he did not match blows with this small mare. ‘Hey, maybe she’ll hit me again,’ He consoled himself with equal parts dread and optimism, swooping in a wide arc and charging back towards the river bank.


An awkward dance partner learning to follow a lead, Kipling only remembered that it was his turn to attack as he re-approached. Right, what had he seen those other horses doing in their spar…? He did not have much time to think it over. Decision haphazardly made, Kipling tried to charge Keidajen head on from the left, lowering his head slightly and snapping his teeth exuberantly at her withers. After making his novice attempt at an attack, Kipling galloped another few strides before sputtering to a halt and attempting to spin and face his opponent once more. All the while, his thoughts swung violently between wanting to inspect his wound more thoroughly and trying to guess what he was actually supposed to doing to prepare to defend himself from the next blow.


This sparring stuff is hard work.




1/3, 763 words

@[Keidajen] - yes please to tags =)

Summary: Kipling takes a shallow bite just above the elbow (reference), then bolts and circles back. He charges head on from the left and tries to bite Keidajen’s withers. About 5 strides later, he stops and attempts to turn and face her again.

Once upon a time called Right Now


Sevin the Sucky, I mean are you a # or vacuum? Posts: 161
OOC Account
Mare :: Other :: 5'5" :: 25
Sevin
#4
Keidajen defaults to Kipling, +0.5VP


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture