the Rift


[INVS] Aviya vs. Rostislav

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#1
@[Aviya] vs. @[Rostislav]
Please refer to this thread for HP: http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=18...#pid139262
The INVADER must post before 4/10/15 @ 10:00 AM CST or the fight will default

Aviya Posts: 59
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 4 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Time
#2
Power and control,
I’m gonna make you fall.

Cloven hooves slip in the muddy soil as the mare stops her momentum. In her misplaced rage, the young warrioress had not noticed the armor that covered the stallion’s body. Her horn scraped along the metal, a terrible screeching noise reverberating back to her ears. Gritting her teeth together and pinning her ears down into her frosted mane, Aviya spun some on her forehand. She attempted to land herself parallel to the bulkier stallion, though facing the opposite direction. The lightweight armor that covered her own body was unfamiliar on her body as she shifted, but the defensive armament did not slow her down. The Dragon’s Throat held amazing crafting abilities with their metal, and as much as Aviya thought herself and her comrades above the winged rats of the desert, she was thankful for their alliance in this moment.

Ice-colored eyes glanced upwards to see Torleik come in, ablaze like hellfire and ringing with the glory of war trumpets. The mare’s heart slammed in her chest as she watched her General attack the stallion on the opposite side. Irelyn swooped from the sky and went for Rostislav’s face. Snorting hard, Aviya took this as her moment to get the stallion while he was distracted. However, she was not the only one who was taking the opportunity. With a rush of air, Aviya felt a pegasus swoop over the draft stallion’s back, and the familiar scraping sound of something hard against metal made her brain rattle. She wanted to scream out, to lash and flail in a rage, but she ducked her head and focused on her magic.

Seeming to pour from nowhere, mist wrapped around the loose brush of the Hidden Falls in the smoky mare’s proximity. Aviya shifted her weight forward onto her forehand, neck arching and chin tucking to curl herself inside of her armor more for protection. Hind legs flashed out, obsidian, cloven hooves aimed for the stallion’s left front leg. She hoped to land her kick where his armor was not covering him in the promise of protection, just below his knee joint. She wished to hear the sound of bone breaking beneath her blow, just as she had when she followed the wraiths north. With her heart focused for the first time on someone, something, other than herself, Aviya had slaughtered wraiths. She was a shield and spear for the protection of her home, her family, her band of brethren she swore her allegiance to. She could not, however, claim this invasion to pull on her sense of duty in the same manner. While she was here because of the call of her rank, she truly thrust herself into participation to exact revege, hot and bitter from the stallion that had felled her mother. He would pay, in time. Before that was to happen, however, she needed to end this opponent.

Her fog, alluring and mystifying, swirled upward toward the stallion’s face as her stocking-painted legs landed and her balance shifted back to her center. Aviya pivoted her shoulders away from Rostistalv, her hooves slipping some over the unpredictable grounding. He attempted to bite at her, but his teeth fell on nothing. He did not even manage to grab a mouthful of her tail. A sadistic smile wrapped over her features as she mentally willed her fog upwards. She commanded the fog to twist and swirl around Rostislav’s head, his throat, his face. She wanted to drown his senses and cause him to devour himself.

‘You are choking. No, not choking. You are drowning. Sputtering and spitting. Gasping for the precious air you so desire. You are dying.’

A malicious vixen she was, the controller of minds. The daughter of darkness wrapped her magic’s fingers around whatever it was she desired, and now she only desired for Rostislav to ‘fall’. Aviya moved forward, her legs reaching out and hopefully pulling her away from the stallion’s rebuttal and assault. Turning her body when she guessed she was several paces away, Aviya aimed to come rocketing in head on to the draft. Her narrowed, icy eyes remained focused on maintaining her magic around his face and gripped over his brain. She felt a wave, however, slowly start to ebb on her heart. Her breathing felt heavy and labored as she charged. This was the familiar fatigue of her magic, the curse it was to control another’s actions. It was worth it, however, as the maiden knew.




[WC: 740/800 on Microsoft Word

PC: 1/3

Aviya's Magic: :: [Magic: DarkxLight | Ability to use mind control via hypnotizing fog ]
:: [Restrictions | Must have permission from the victim in non-battle threads. In battle this takes immense concentration and is difficult to maintain; opponent can fight against the mind control to a reasonable degree]

Aviya's Armor: :: [Item: Armor | Lightweight metal crafted by the Dragon's Throat, it is white gold color in appearance. Covers her the back of her head, neck, shoulders, chest, and flanks.]]


Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#3
If ever there were a time to turn tail, surrender and run... this would be it. Hits from the dark mare, her dark stallion friend, and Kaj of the World's Edge have left me severely weakened, and to say I am at a disadvantage would be a horrible understatement. Aviya's attack left me aching on my left ribs, while her partner stallion left me aching on my right ribs. Kaj, the last to hit of the four who attacked me, bruises the left side of my rump beneath the metal plates. Though certainly the armor that I'm still becoming accustomed to has protected me from what might be a certain death, the combined force of my sustained wounds is overpowering. Though I have spun to lash out at the three who have successfully hit me, I have failed to hit any of them. Of course this is a wound to my pride and my hopes of making out of this in one piece. This invasion, the one that I really should have seen coming, might be the death of us all, myself included. Were we really so alone in this world that no one should come to our aid? Were those of the Throat so distant? Did the Edge really consider the Basin a better, greater friendship than one with us?

In the chaos, the confusion, I barely notice what goes on around us. In fact, I am almost lost to the fact that the stallions have moved away to find others to fight. I only notice that my biting and kicking has no effect on those around me. The swift mare with the broken horn has danced out of my reach before I could make contact, and I'm left the heaping mess with barely a hope against my untouched foe. She has lashed out again at my joints below my armor, but as I stagger sideways I move just enough so that her horn's jagged cut across my skin is superficial, and the bleeding is minimal. I heave for air, winded from the attacks and my failed efforts to harm my enemies. As I inhale, a strange fog rises around me, surrounding me, invading my lungs. I cough, as the density of the air feels strange in my nostrils.

Instead of feeling my oxygen supply replenished, I'm struggling for air, struggling to breath. I gasp, a rattling breath being the only result. What is this horrible devilry that threatens to suffocate my lungs, my brain? I can only guess that it is from this fog that comes with the obsidian Basiner. Damaris whines, suffering from similar effects though not as concentrated. 'Run!' It's all I can manage as I strain to stay standing. Reluctantly and with a breathy howl, she does, perhaps to go help another Falls victim. I feel myself weaken, my gaze being bleary and dim, and a darkness - so much darker than the night brought on by Silas - threatens to overcome me. Though she has left, I hear Damaris's voice in my mind, quiet but clear: 'Don't give up Rosti.' So I don't.

The fog begins to clear, and I steady myself, though my body still remains fatigued and vulnerable. Was the oxygen there all along? Was the suffocation just a figment of my imagination? It doesn't matter now, all that matters is that the breath of life continues to my lungs, through my arteries to my muscles and brain. As the fog clears and my eyesight returns to a greater accuracy, I see Her charging straight on. I groan with effort as I lurch to the right, trying to avoid her. I'm not fast enough, and though I've made the situation more manageable, she collides with the left side of my rump, knocking me off balance. I stumble to the side and try my hardest to correct myself, turning on my hind to the left, toward where she'd just been. With a fierce, determined bellow I bow my head down, horns aiming toward her rump, if she hasn't turned around yet. Surely I must be able to make contact with her? Surely, surely I can at least wound my enemy before what could only be my inevitable fall. "ARRRGHHH!" A garbled yell is the only way I can communicate now, too exhausted to form words, though my intention is clear: You shall not get away so easily, and I will NOT go down without a fight.

741 words
1/3


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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*You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.

Aviya Posts: 59
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 4 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Time
#4
Power and control,
I’m gonna make you fall.

As she charges forward toward the behemoth, her ice-colored eyes glance down and see that she has wounded the stallion. There is a thin line of an injury on his leg where he had kicked him. It was not as satisfying as hearing the sound of a snapping bone, but it was pleasing indeed. Her magic seemed to work its wonders as well, causing the bulkier stallion to falter. Her own exhaustion ebbed away as her magic faded. She felt the strain in her muscles, in her breathing, but it was nothing she could not push past. Aviya wielded this magic her entire life. It was all a part of her—cursing others and controlling their minds and actions, and feeling the effects of her strain. Infiltrating the minds of others was not an easy feat, most could not do it, but Aviya was a skilled assassin of the mind. She could push through her own fatigue, finish this battle, and come out as top dog.

The distance between them is closed rapidly, despite Aviya’s hooves sticking and slipping on the moist soil below her. She wished for the hard pack terrain of her mountainous home. There was no hindrance there, she was a rocket on those grounds. This place was too wet and she did not understand why anyone would want to live here. There were mountains and waterfalls and overgrown brush, but it was nothing compared to the fortress she and her people inhabited. There was relief that it was not her leaders that were claiming this land for them and the herd, but it was minimal to the frustration of her muddy hooves and stained white legs. Her speed seemed to be in her favor, even with the handicap of the landscape she traversed. Aviya’s left shoulder slammed into the stallion’s left flank and knocked him off balance. The impact of her armor against the stallion’s rump pressed the metal into the point of her shoulder and a dull, throbbing pain thumps through her muscle. Groaning, Aviya presses on.

She is only a stride forward when the idiot throws his assault. A sharp, quick pain erupts across her left, upper thigh. It is not unlike the pain that throbs in her shoulder. Rostislav managed to smack his head into her, through he was greeted only by the white gold that covered her body in a protective embrace. If the mare could snarl like her father’s hellhound, it would be the sound ripping across the battlefield. Instead, she gives a shrill cry of pain and anger. How dare he. The stallion needed to admit defeat—Aviya was bearing down on him, and the Aurora Basin and World’s Edge’s armies were left with barely any fight. He had some audacity, some tenacious grit in him, but it was pure arrogance that would send him crashing at her feet.

In retaliation, Aviya ducked her head down. She aimed to stab her horn down into the stallion’s exposed gaskin. It was a vital muscle, she knew, in the operation of the leg. Like the sentinels that protected their land up north, horses could be brought down so easily when their legs were taken out of commission. Her motion was quick and fluid, meant to only stab down once like a scabbard. Quickly, Aviya lifted her head back up again, chin raising high, to protect herself from the lashing of his thick legs. A blow from his hind hooves could leave her demolished, and today she would not let that happen. Turning on her heels, Aviya hoped to swing her hips towards Rostislav more, and she let her left hind leg shoot out in a cow kick, aimed in hopes to hammer against his front left knee. As far as power went, Aviya was lacking against the stallion, but if she could manage to continue going after his weaknesses, she knew she would be the victor. It was a pompous thought, for most, but Aviya was the dark princess of the Aurora Basin, a victor by her blood alone.

The hum of battle was the rhythm Aviya’s heart beat to, her blue eyes glancing around to see her comrades. Most of them were standing, waiting for battle, for an opponent. Even Deimos and Ophelia—her leaders in arms—did not have anyone locked in against them. Just moments before, Aviya had wanted the stallion to admit his defeat, to end his own suffering, but now Aviya wanted him to press on. She was their only fighting warrior, and she would earn her stripes today. Another cry left her lips, a cry meant to call the attention of her superiors, to alert them to her prowess. Look my way, see how I defeat my opponent! She mentally called.




[WC: 795/800 on Microsoft Word | PC: 2/3 | Aviya's Armor: :: [Item: Armor | Lightweight metal crafted by the Dragon's Throat, it is white gold color in appearance. Covers her the back of her head, neck, shoulders, chest, and flanks.]


Rostislav Posts: 245
Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.1hh :: 7 (Frostfall) HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Damaris :: Common Hellhound :: Acid Lauren
#5
I am struggling, weakened in this fight to defend my homeland. Even with rage, adrenaline, and pure force of will, I do not see a happy outcome. I am not just defending my homeland, defending the glorious names of Midas and Ghost, not just defending my title. I am defending my child, Vitani. Her cries in the background pierce my heart in a vicious stab in a way that my horns fail against Aviya's armor. I hope that perhaps she will be bruised by my attack, but my horns are no match for the metal, and her blood remains unspilt. In a moment of weakness, of foolishness, I close my eyes in regret, in disappointment, in... something more than I can say.

I open my eyes but it is too late to block her incoming attack. Her horn fails to impale its target head on, but succeeds in piercing the flesh an inch or so deep. A cry of pain forces past my lips, and I feel my left hind buckle as she pulls her horn back up. Did she leave glass inside? I don't know how glass horns work but anything left inside the wound may create infection - if the leg wound itself doesn't kill me. She turns away and I try to gather myself. Hobbled by pain, it is difficult to move but I manage to pull away from her just as she levels a fierce, tightly wound kick toward my front left knee. Mere inches spare me another crippling blow.

Another howl of pain echoes in the darkness, but is it from me, or Damaris? 'ROSTI!' She wants to come back, to save me. Little do I know that if I die so will she, so in my mind the safest thing for her is to be separate. 'Go. Vitani. Guard!' The command is perhaps the smartest thing I've done this entire night. I think that this is, that this is the end of me. I test my leg to see if it can bear weight and find it cannot. But then, out of the darkness, there is movement. It's not the movement of the fighters, no, but rather something - plantlike? I start to feel the tenderness in my leg fade, and gently I test it again for my weight and find I can support myself. Sure it hurts like the devil but I can use it, and I know that I will recover - at least from that wound. It must have been one of the healers - Kiara or Africa! My heart goes out to them both, a silent thank you in the bloody night. Aviya's own call rings out, a call to her fellow warriors to look on as she triumphs in my imminent defeat.

With at least the minimum strength in my leg, perhaps I have a chance to make it out of this alive. At the least, I can fight BACK. 'It's not over until the fat fucking lady sings!' I lunge forward at her pretty little ass as she fails to hit my knee. Her armor protects her just as mine protects me. In this way we both have advantage and disadvantage. It's not the perfect attack, nor is it the most powerful attack that I can deliver. On the other hand, it is the most advantageous, the most likely to succeed. Teeth bared, visage distorted by pain and rage, I aim to bite her in the same place she attacked me: the back of her leg, just above the point of her hock. Maybe I can't tear the muscles out like a carnivore, but I can bruise, or maybe even lacerate if I've got any sharp teeth hanging about. Satisfied that I at least made the attempt, unknowing whether I was even slightly successful, I retreat away from her. My legs move beneath me awkwardly as I trot away to her right, hopefully just out of reach for immediate retaliation.

658 words
2/3


Rostislav
more than a drunken fool
x - x

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Plot Thread

*You may do anything you wish with Rostislav excluding dismemberment and death.

Sevin the Sucky, I mean are you a # or vacuum? Posts: 161
OOC Account
Mare :: Other :: 5'5" :: 25
Sevin
#6
Default to Rostislav
+1 invasion points for defenders
+0.5 vp

Sevin the Sucky, I mean are you a # or vacuum? Posts: 161
OOC Account
Mare :: Other :: 5'5" :: 25
Sevin
#7
The one who defaulted cannot request partial judging, sorry!


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