the Rift

little bird [ rikyn vs. imonada spar ]

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie

Any chance to show the superiority of my kin was one which I accepted with whole hearted delight, and this afternoon was no different, though my opponent is female and small, perhaps the sort a more honorable man would have denied. 
As I stood on the subject, she was willing, and whether or not she wound up maimed beyond any healing was no concern of my own; all I really wanted was the experience, a chance to again float on the undulating waves of my gloating pride.  The wonder that I might be underestimating the small raven of a woman does not cross my mind, my previous successes granting me a much less pessimistic view point of the world.
I would win, and the fact that I believe as much is written all across my pompous body language, the height of my crown allowing my bright golden eyes to look down at the black figure of Imonada as much physically as I do within, each muscle loose and leisurely along my figure.
Its as good a place to spar as any, this meadow of purple thistles, the heat of Tallsun having dried the earth until it is warm and dusty beneath our hooves in this patch that seems to have been stripped of all its vegetation by countless skirmishes and travelers, the gentle sound of the river which runs though this land some eight yards or so behind me near enough to chatter audibly in my ears.
Here, there is no grass to ensnare limbs, or stones upon which to trip; there is only the hard packed earth which is some ten feet in width from its center to where the yellowing, sun weary blades sway in the wind.  Above, the sun beats violently, sweat already collecting in the folds of my flesh, and the wonder as to how much worse it will get is ever present, a quiet thought given to myself to try and not die of heat stroke this afternoon.
"You first," I dictate, wondering what sort of tactics such a small woman will present, curious enough to allow her the delight of the first strike.

[ 0/3 - Traditional Spar - 1 week between posts
Setting:  Set in the Thistle Meadow not far from the stream, in an open dirt patch, during a hot but lightly breezy afternoon.  Little to no obstacles underfoot.
Summary:  Stands near the center of the clearing by Imonada, and waits for her attack. 
OOC:  Good luck! (yaaaay battletime)  Posts will get better, I promise!  I'm sorta lame at introductions. xD ]


Image by Ghostly - Code by Tamme

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Imonada Posts: 61
Hidden Account atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.1hh :: 3 (Frostfall) HP: 58 | Buff: NOVICE

Unlike Rikyn, Imonada wasn't exactly charged for this; her original intention was birthed from the weight of ineptitude upon her shoulders when facing the fallen gods, her lack of martial skills delegating her to being the support of support. It was battle floundering, even if she incited a good rally once with her hefty set of lungs. She wanted, no needed to know how to fight, and it didn't matter if conflict annoyed her like a spoiled child's caterwauling. It was the currency of their world; they traded in violence. So her skill-set needed to broaden a bit, for a fly on the wall was no good smashed and there were some things in this life that no one could outrun. If she were blessed with only minor intelligence, she'd still know that combative might was not simply going to be bestowed upon her by the power of her wishing. At the very least, the gods demanded sacrifice.

She was going in knowing that she was likely to lose, but that sat fine with her; the real prize was what she would be able to learn. Her failures and losses would be as valuable as any win, if not more so under certain light. She had faith she would become a credible force in a short order of time, if she pushed herself. This lead her to today, to now, standing in front of the tall stallion she met several months back when spring was maturing into her summer form, having agreed to a sparring match. He was as leonine as she remembered, striking and dark and mystic. It would be a lie to say she was not intimidated; ignoring her own emotions was foolhardy, for they were the single most transmutable insights into her body and mind's overall status. They were invaluable, if handled correctly, as any asset ought to be.

"If you insist," she quips, making it clear she does not sense any amount of chivalry or altruism. She could see his face just fine, after all, with a gleefully predatory gleam in the gold of his eyes. She had watched him from a distance earlier across the river, piqued she could not move in from the cover of shadows, or darkness. Could not spy on him a bit before the row from a better position. Worst of all, she couldn't ambush him; she had no doubt he'd go for one of his own if the opportunity arose, even if she wouldn't be considering it had a spar not been brought up. It wasn't like she wanted to kill him, at any rate. 

True lust for a fight waits behind closed doors within her; it is not ideal, in her mind, that she cannot conjure up the thirst prior to the battle, but she knows entering that dance with him will awaken it. On such an even playing field, it seems an unequivocal attack was mandatory; she adjusts herself, rolling her joints, feeling a stretch as she primes her body. Tight stepping in place is his only warning before she launches herself at him, hooves ripping into the brittle meadow grasses, holding herself in such a way that she as streamlined as a bullet, chin tucked to her neck, the muscles of her chest rippling like ink as she bares toward him. For all intents and purposes, it looks like she'll barrel into him, but her real goal becomes clear when she is close enough to toss her head, mouth open wide, lips pulled back to reveal hard teeth that are ready grab onto his jugular, her upper half lifted into a half-rear that may throw her breast against his.

Pixel template base by BronzeHalo

Summary: Imonada charges him to half-rear and try to bite for his throat.
Word count : 612
Post: 1/3

*I am new to this please forgive me. D:

elizabeth: you're not telling us everything.
red: let me put your mind at ease; i'm never telling you everything.

force allowed
plotting prior to death/maiming please

[Image: a0jmns.png]
line art by jennyleigh

Time the Dice Queen Posts: 144
OOC Account atk: 50 | def: 50 | dam: 50
Mare :: Other :: 5'7 :: 22 HP: 5050 | Buff: DROPKICK
*Regular spars have a 3-week default time between posts, not 1-week.

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Rikyn defaults to Imonada. +0.5 VP to Imonada.

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