the Rift


you put a fever inside me

Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#1
And I've grown familiar
With villains that live in my head

Nymeria was a grown woman now.

Gone were the days of shy youth and slim waistlines, petulant scowls and shadowy, soundless movement through tight-pressed trees. As much as she longed for that anonymity, it was clear that with her coming-of-age a life of secrecy was not for her. She was too buxom, too thick-waisted, too voluptuous... an adult, a woman, with broad, sloping hips, a massive chest, and shapely cannons. When she moved now, even mustering her grace, it was with majesty, not discreetness, enthralling beauty, not modesty. And she wasn't certain whether this was something she enjoyed (attention and hungry eyes), or even wanted, but nonetheless this was her: her skin, her bones, her blood and sinew, the heat crawling between her thighs and the urge for domination and conquests. Nymeria had never felt she had grown into herself, that she had outgrown her child's body—except now, swarthy and thick, she didn't feel quite so incompetent anymore, or as powerless as she once had...

In all honesty, in a way she felt more powerful than she ever had before.

No longer was she contained to a tiny, unlikely vessel, where she wanted to shrink and shrivel and collapse in on herself. No longer did she feel the urge to bow her head and let her eyes slide away from all the seeking gazes. No longer did she feel the overpowering urge to hide who she was, what she was.

She was, perhaps, empowered, drunk on her own newfound strength.
And she couldn't muster the care to regret it.

The Deep Forest's border was not where it once was. Lilómiel had led the way, after the scent of salt touched their nostrils and sang a siren call to them (come, come, come, down to the sea.) The ocean was not supposed to be here; the ocean was supposed to be much farther east, and yet it was not. There was no breeze which might've carried the scent, and Nymeria knew this dark forest well enough to know the geography was wrong... but she never expected to walk into a mirrored world, a Nirvana she had only ever dreamed of.

It stretched on forever, blue and blue and blue and gold.
Gods.

This was hers. This—this was her. Beneath her hooves her figure wavered, dark smoke crowned with white and red; Lilómiel, far above, was merely a dark smear of a reflection by her feet.

She wondered if she had stepped into a dream.

She stepped forward, at first tentatively, and then more eagerly, striding out towards the heavenly horizon, imbued with the urge to claim, to protect.
image credits
@Abraham


Setting: Halcyon Flats. Loosely 10:00 A.M., sunny but not blindingly bright, light breeze coming from the North. Good footing.
Post Count: 0/3
Word Count: 451
Damage Tracker: N/A

OOC Notes: Magic and companions allowed. Abraham can attack immediately or we can do a bit of back-and-forth posting first; whatever you prefer. I will edit this to add in a link to the Battle Rolling!


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions


Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time
#2


See I've come to burn your kingdom down

Not long had passed from the time of his spar with Isopia, the girl who transformed into a raven, but it was long enough. He regained full motion from the injuries to his legs, and his muscles no longer pulled in defiance against his efforts of training. In fact, the pain he had pushed through made him train even harder, bringing his strength toward something unfathomable. He was a colossal beast upon these salted sands, a sentinel of destruction and a harbinger of death. He prowled now, moving from the south, on the water-littered sands. He was looking for his next meal. Above him, white and gold flickered across the open expanse of the sky. Freedom incarnate in hellfire and frost, his dragons revelled in the idea of bringing another to their knees before the leviathan. Keen, sharp eyes danced across the open field of battle, searching out their next target. A shifting, dark figure caught the attention of the older white. Black dragon. She growled across their bond, motioning in the sky for Brienne to notice. Abraham could see the figure of its bondmate in the distance as his dragons simultaneously sent him images of the black reptile. Snorting, Abraham made the executive decision--these would be their dance partners.

Dragon ours. Brienne commanded, green eyes flashing with excitement. The frosted queen had not been able to reveal all of her glory in their last battle, and beneath her shimmering scales she yearned for the chance to dominate. She was a true war queen--there was no fragile part of her, nothing delicate about the way she cut through the skies or sliced with her talons. Gwyneverre beamed with pride at her younger sister. Although the golden was above her in their natural hierarchy, something was different between them. Abraham suspected it was because they were bonded to the same soul--his--and that Gwyneverre was older. Brienne admired the white and her strength, held her in high regard. With other dragons, however, it was always made dangerously clear that Brienne was a fucking alpha. Abraham smirked darkly, extending his trot to close the distance between him and the flickering image of the grullo before him.

Coming from the south, his scent was disguised in the salt scent that overpowered here. However, the behemoth made no means to hide the sound of his approach. The earth nearly bent and cried at his thunderous hooves. Muscles rippled beneath a sleek, healthy coat, easily displaying his dominance and lethal standing to any onlooker. His draconian companions still glided on the warm winds above him, quietly trilling commands to each other. Slowing to a walk, the stallion's neck arched and his chest swelled. Broad shoulders squared and his hips tightened. Mismatched eyes moved over the girl--no, the woman's frame hungrily. He felt no need to hide his intentions--today, the woman would bend to his will, his might, and his lust. "Dance with me." He commanded, guttural voice low and laced with poison and desire.



[PC: 0/3 | WC: 498 | You can attack first, Wanda!]



Image Credits


@Nymeria

Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down


pixel by tamme

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#3
Nymeria has contracted GLL

Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#4
And I've grown familiar
With villains that live in my head

All she could smell was brine and seawater, but the stranger did not hide his approach. The spider heard him coming—the thunderous crash of his hooves on the water was a din that travelled for what seemed like miles.

Nymeria did not turn to face the leviathan.

Instead, she remained facing out towards the horizon line, marveling at the seamless transition from sea-to-sky. Despite the acceleration of her heartbeat (a leftover reflex from her age as a foal both young and vulnerable) she stood tall and proud, channeling her old mother’s arrogance. Whether the titan (for surely the unseen horse must be, to be that loud) presumed this to be foolishness or ignorance on her part mattered not. Soon enough she would discover the reason for his approach, and change her actions as necessary to make the best of the situation.

Lilómiel wheeled around, and through his violent eyes Nymeria watched the dark silhouette on the horizon draw closer.

The stranger was colossal, his size to rival even her brother’s—but that was not what was intimidating about him. It was instead within his clipped stride, and the hardness to the muscles flexing beneath his steel coat... the way he carried himself. Powerful. Hungry. Fierce—except beyond fierce, or any of those words, transcending into an almost godly realm full of presumed arrogance and greed. As for if that were good or not, Nymeria hadn’t yet judged.

Above, the black screamed. The raw sound tore out across the flats, twisted and ugly. Nymeria did not need to have a bond to Lil to hear the fury and the rage and the hate that had corroded away every quality of worth he once had.

This is what he had become, and it was all because of her.
She couldn’t help but delight in that, warped as it was.

Burgeoning in the black’s mind, bleeding out across their bond, comes a question of hunger and bloodlust. Can we? A soft corner of her mouth quirked up in answer, monstrous and beautiful. Her heart was beating hard and fast, and her legs were almost trembling—not with fear, not with terror, but with scandalous longing. It was true she hadn’t fought anyone, and she had her reservations about the nature of war, some sort of primordial fear of failure; except… she was made for this, wasn’t she? And there always had to be a first time.

And unlike her mother, she recognized failure to be part of life.
The spider turned to face her opponent.

Bi-colored eyes did not meet hers. They traced over her body, over what felt like every inch of her skin, over parts both ‘private’ and not. Some inkling of rage flickered in her breast—disgust and fury and frustration, but mostly she flushed from head-to-hoof with burning want. Sensual desire surged through her veins—and she hated herself for it.
How could a fucking stranger reduce her to a horny bitch?

Dance with me.
It was an invitation that needed no second asking.

The spider glanced towards Lilómiel, who let out a second scream of challenge and began to fly as swiftly as possible towards Abraham. It was not just an idle glance—Nymeria hoped to draw the stallion’s gaze towards the dragon as well and distract him, even if momentarily, from her own actions. Simultaneously, she took hold of the magic veins around them.

For a moment, the sheer volume of water and blood almost overwhelmed her. She was well-practiced in wielding her unique brand of sorcery, but in this scenario it was distinctly different. There was no time to hesitate—she had to trust her instincts and her practice.

The spider snatched at the blood within Abraham’s veins and pulled as hard as she could. It was rather particularly violent—she imagined forcing the red fluids from his every pore and dragging it out from his tear ducts, nostrils, and ears. A split second following the visualization, her metaphorical hand carefully keeping hold of the magic, she picked up a long-strided but contained canter, eyes squinted against the glare cast by the sun. She attempted to slam her right shoulderblade against Abraham’s rightmost chest, and snapped out with her teeth towards her she hoped Abraham’s withers would be.

Erstwhile to her physical movement, Lilómiel attempted to close the distance between him and Abraham. His hungry, heated jaws parted to let loose a gout of flame, aiming for Abraham’s left eye and cheekbone.

They might be new to actual fighting, but nobody said they had to suck at it.
image credits
@Abraham


Post Count: 1/3 + 0/1 Closing Defence  
Word Count: 754
Damage Tracker: Contacted GLL, will start writing with affects of GLL from next post.
Tag: @Abraham

OOC Notes:
Magic used :: [ Magic: WaterxWind (U) | Ability to levitate and control direction of liquids outside or inside of tissue and containers ]
Mood.


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions


Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time
#5


See I've come to burn your kingdom down

The colossal creature, dark as he night with pristine, marbled legs lightening him only a portion, danced before the woman. From the very beginnings of his youth, Circe had been wise to demand as much grace from her sons as the power they undoubtedly held. Even your father dances on the battlefield, she would taunt them as she trained them. The flickering memory of the shadowmere painted in his mind's eye now, as his muscles tightened and he trotted nearly close enough to devour the grulla woman. His feathers swayed over rounded, blunt hooves ready to destroy any fiber of muscle and bone he chose. An arched neck brought a tucked chin, and a pointed horn, glinting lethally and beautifully all the same in the warm, brilliant sunlight. While not was strikingly glaring as it had been the day Abraham fought Isopi, it was still bright and he kept his mind to holding his eyes from bouncing off the water's mirror-like surface. Instead, his gaze ate up her frame hungrily. She was smaller, more lithe and fragile compared to him in his behemoth body given to him by his father, and his father before him. Abraham knew, like most of the adversaries he would face in his life, his strength would give him the upper hoof today.

Bloodied eyes traveled skyward, but Abraham kept his focus. His dragons were his eyes in the sky, and he took no purpose in travelling his own mismatched gaze after Nymeria's. Twin dragons--female, dominant, alphas--released their own battle cries after the feeble black's. As the black darted, the draconian women wasted no time. In tandem they rocketed after the smaller reptile, Brienne taking the lead. The golden queen guessed she and the black were close in age, but she already was double his size. With gleaming golden scales and the crown to match, Brienne screamed her authority over the male dragon. Talon-edge fingers reached out to grab the boy's wings in an iron grasp, and her jaws opened to release white, cold frost upon his obsidian back. Brienne ripped her back feet viciously over what she hoped was the black's wings, hoping to tear precious membranes that aided in flight and survival. As she attacked, the black forced a stream of volatile flame from his tiny jaws and the golden queen hissed darkly. Not my Abraham. She communicated in her fury, iced over jaws reaching down then to try and bite the bastardous black on the back of his neck.

It was all happening simultaneously, quickly, and it berated Abraham like hurricane winds. The pleasure of the woman rushing for him brought a dark, malicious smile to his otherwise scowling features. Before Abraham could lurch forward to meet her--mountain against pebble--a flash of green light caught his attention. The amulet tied in his mane with several others, a glorious emerald that glistened handsomely in the sunlight, suddenly burst. The destruction of the amulet trickled down Abraham's leg in filtered green dust. He half-expected to transform, as he had done when his purple Moon amulets burst, but nothing happened. His mind whirled, thoughts racing quickly until, in a quick and haphazard thought, the stallion decided the amulet had erupted from the casting of this woman's own magic. The realization had pulled his attention, and it gave time for Nymeria to close the distance between them. How dare she. Bubbling ire rose in his throat, the offense warming his face. Her motion was a greyed blur, but Abraham was quick of mind and deft of skill. Lowering his horn even further and jutting it towards the woman, Abraham stepped to the left, as quick as his thick legs would allow him. It carried him far enough away that Nymeria's shoulder just scraped against his own right shoulder, leaving only a throbbing muscle in its wake. He heard the sound of her teeth gnashing against air, and felt a pinch as her teeth grabbed onto dark skin, just behind his white shoulder. His massive height aided in keeping his withers out of harm. With a rapidfire, practiced motion, the leviathan stallion turned his head somewhat to the side and slashed his twin horns to devastate the ride side of nymeria's body. Abraham did not aim low enough to crack the ribcage, but he hoped it was just the right angle to slice into the muscle of her topline.

Fire burst above Abraham's head, but touched nothing but air. He felt the heat of it so close to his ear that it made him pin them further down into his inked locks. It was then that Gwyneverre, enraged by the black's actions, released her own hueless hellfire toward the length of Nymeria's back.



[PC: 1/3 | WC: 785 | Magic: Dark | Skin excretes a neurotoxin :: Restrictions: Symptoms include hallucinations, loss of motor control, sense impairment and cognitive impairment for 30 seconds in battle. **This is an active magic, but is always present on Abraham's skin. | Earth amulet used.]



Image Credits


@Nymeria

Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#6
And I've grown familiar
With villains that live in my head

When Nymeria glanced upwards, there was a haunting gleam and glitter of gold-and-white scales—and then came a dual roar to overpower Lil’s bold cries. Her heart jerked in shock at the sound, before she pulled her attention back towards the autonomic crash of her hooves on the sand.

Except she was not afraid, not scared, not as she once would’ve been. The terror that raced through her veins, burning and coiling through to her adrenal glands to stimulate the release of adrenaline—it belonged to her companion, as he flew towards bloody sisters and wicked jaws. She should’ve been afraid—but all she could feel was a yearning, a traitorous instinct which whispered of foreplay and sex and her inheritance as a woman.

Lilomiel snarled his brazen rebellion, dipping just below Brienne’s claws. His wings rose, hesitated, and flapped down hard as he banked sharply to the right, his tail whipping to counter-balance the abrupt movement. Despite the quickness of his evasion, he could not quite avoid Brienne’s frozen flame. Searing pain crackled down his tail’s length, a blistering pain so intensely cold it felt hot. The black squawked, screeched, and flapped laboriously as ice formed instantaneously over the feathers integral to flight—and it was this awkwardness, the brief dip and dive as he fought to regain composure, that allowed him to avoid Brienne’s bite to the neck.

For a brief moment, Nymeria’s vision ghosted with an overlap of Lilomiel’s as he plummeted, his pain echoed in her own tail’s short, slender bones. It was an unholy, blistering agony, and when Lil’s mind cried out to hers, begging for help, she deafened her ears and cut their bond, putting his pain on the backseat.

She had her own problems to deal with.
Too fucking bad for him.

It registered but briefly that Abraham smiled—and that insidious curve, that glint of pale teeth, triggered a second pulsating wave of heat, and she burned with embarrassment, and shame, at her body’s hunger, her body’s needs. Nonetheless, instead of focusing upon it, she curled her lips in a dogged sneer, and fuelled her anger with her humiliation.

Confusion splintered her vision of victory as nothing visibly happened to Abraham, despite the insistence of her magical efforts. There was a momentary blast of light (which throbbed and began to change Abraham into a thick red shape rather than steel-and-bone)—and nothing.

It was too late to wonder over it.

When she touched Abraham’s flesh, it was the first time she had ever touched another man except for her brother, and it was the first time she slammed into said flesh with all her force hurled behind it. So close to the stallion (bold and black and big in all the places it counted), she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by his masculine musk—and she wanted to devour him, and be cloaked in his holy stench. And as her own bruise began to bloom on her right shoulder (an insistent and yet easily ignored ache) to mirror his, her teeth clipped the meat of his shoulder. It was unfortunate that he hardly tasted good; as soon as her teeth closed down, something burned on her tongue, all wrong and sour.

Her mind shuddered, convulsed, and Lilomiel’s pain came back in full force, making her step stutter.

As Abraham twisted his horns towards the right side of Nymeria, Nym hurriedly stepped her forequarters off to her left, aiming to position her hindquarters closer to his face. It was a small movement, and as she still carried her momentum, his dual horns cut along her rightmost loin rather than right side. Sensory receptors fired immediately, blood beginning to run within the newly-cut, moderate-depth furrows. The grulla snorted, a breathy exhalation both surprised and pained, and kicked out with her hind legs in reflex, attempting to crack her right hind hoof against his right knee or cannon, her injuries crying out in further protest.

Her attack was neither co-ordinated or graceful as her vision blurred and cracked, cold blue and red blurring together.

What the—

The taste of ash burned in her mouth as Lil released his flame, a final defiance to Abraham’s dragons.

Instinctively, Nymeria wrenched at her magic again, attempting to made blood drip from his every orifice.

And, almost instantly, she was forced to switch gears. A gleam of white on the water was her only warning—and she, with a whispered prayer, made a gamble. Swiftly, she gathered the water below her, twisting it up and over her body in a liquid shield. When Gwyneverre flamed, it hit the watery “shield”, turning it to a heavy steam. Drops of boiling water burst on her body, tiny pinpricks of pain, but she would take that over dragonfire any day.
image credits
@Abraham


Post Count: 2/3 + 0/1 Closing Defence  
Word Count: 791
Damage Tracker: Contacted GLL. Minor bruise to right shoulder. Cuts to right loin. Momentarily loss of motor control due to secreted neurotoxin. Severe damage to companion's tail. Very mild damage caused by boiling water.
Tag: @Abraham

OOC Notes:
Magic used :: [ Magic: WaterxWind (U) | Ability to levitate and control direction of liquids outside or inside of tissue and containers ]
Any references to the colors of her vision are not due to anything Abraham did, but rather the contraction of GLL.


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions


Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#7
Nymeria is cured of GLL! (stats will stay as is for this fight)

Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time
#8


See I've come to burn your kingdom down

Although lust was buried within his gut, flowing through his veins, and pumping into his heart, sex had not been his intention today. That was, however, until Nymeria swung her ass towards his face. The scents that filled his nostrils were unmistakable, and they made his heart thrum against his chest violently. After this dance, the leviathan would take what he wanted and he would not be gentle. His horn had sliced over her skin and muscle, sending a wave of satisfaction over him. The sight of blood was always exciting, and mixed with the thought of fornication, it was damn-near heavenly. Grunting, Abraham quickly surged forward, hind end curving and propelling him. Muscles bunched in his abdomen and his haunches, lifting his massive frame into a mini-rear. As his body lifted up, Nymeria's kick merely sliced the air beneath his legs. Gritting his teeth, Abraham kicked his front hooves forward and rolled them back quickly, hoping to strike the grulla on her rounded hindquarters, just above her dock. The thought crossed his mind of mounting her here and now and taking what he truly decided he wanted, but the foreplay of this dance would only heighten the pleasure in the end. Another grunt left Abraham's maw as he moved his body harshly, trying to land this time on the opposite side of Nymeria--her left--only to be suddenly seized by a dizzy, faint feeling.

His head swam like warm cotton had filled his ears, and the sound of blood pounding against his skull slowed in tempo. Blinking, the stallion shook his head some, as if he could shake the feeling off to the ground. Inside his nose, a blood vessel popped from the pressure, and a steady trickle of blood leaked from the left side, tasting metallic on his tongue as it slipped past his own lip. In this haze, Abraham drifted all-too close for a moment, and a splatter of boiling water licked his hide most cruelly. A sudden hiss pulled his lips apart, and pulled him back to this dance. Abraham, then, did all he could do in that moment: send his body like a battering ram to knock into her left ribcage and, he hoped, send her crashing to the ground and break like a delicate glass vase. His height and weight clearly outmatched her, but she had quicker, thinner limbs for carrying her away like a forest nymph. Perhaps she had been distracted enough by the pain of defending against Gwyneverre's attack, for it might have been the only thing to help keep Abraham has the dominant on in this moment. Solid, massive hooves dug into the moist sands below him as he pushed harder into his attempted attack, though the thick sands slowed him down more than what he wanted. Each second that passed brought his mind back to where it needed to be, the rage of battered pride fueling his assaults further. Quickly, Abraham flung his head like a viper, teeth gnashing a bite aimed for her withers. Sweat formed in the crevices of his body, and the closeness to Nymeria was almost intoxicating. Patience, he told himself, though his loins burned for release. The sexual frustration grew the ire in his eyes, their narrowed, bi-hued daggers digging into the grulla.

The white dragon ended her flame when Abraham faltered, his clouded mind from his intense headrush affecting her. Wings beat hard to keep her in flight, and she roared her displeasure with the grulla woman below and her sorcery. Shaking her little body, the white dragon darted downwards, claws aimed to dig into Nymeria's poll. Above them all, Brienne still intended to kill the little black dragon. Her ice had seized his tail and a flicker of pride grew in her chest, causing the golden to swell and appear larger than she actually was. The black's quick aerial movements were sharp and impressive, the gold would give him that, but they still paled in comparison to the power she held over him. Tucking in her wings, the gold aimed her clawed-hands to reach out again for the fleeing black's wings. A grounded dragon was a dead dragon, the young gold knew. Fire, hot and angry, poured from the black's jaws and Brienne let her own, icy element fall from her jaws. With the raging flag of pride waving in her mind, Brienne could not let this black or his bonded win this day--or any day to come. Her ice crashed into his fire--their matching ages holding their strength relatively the same--and a loud, sizzling sound filled the Halcyon Flats. In Brienne's independent assault, the fuzziness that had grasped Gwyneverre's mind so strongly only graced Brienne's mind with the simplest whisper, disregarded easily for the natural energy-drain of battle.




[PC: 2/3 | WC: 795 | Magic: Dark | Skin excretes a neurotoxin :: Restrictions: Symptoms include hallucinations, loss of motor control, sense impairment and cognitive impairment for 30 seconds in battle. **This is an active magic, but is always present on Abraham's skin.]



Image Credits


@Nymeria

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#9
Nymeria defaults to Abraham. Abraham earns 0.5 VP.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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