the Rift


WARRIORS AND VAGABONDS [Voodoo Challenge]

Einarr Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 hh :: 8 years HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
Time
#1
Einarr had been chosen, among the handful of Guardians in the Dragon's Throat, to fulfill this mission. Ampere sought Einarr out when be returned from his daily patrol, and her words still burned in the back of Einarr's mind. He was to find this stallion, once a warrior of their very sands, and retrieve the key he had managed to escape from their ranks with. Determined and steadfast, Einarr took to the skies. Keen eyes stayed sharp, scanning the ground below him for the sign of the wanted stallion. The blue woman had given Einarr a basic description of the man he was hunting.

Grullo and red, like he was stained by blood. Little white fox companion. Skinny and tall, but athletic. Unicorn.

Snorting, Einarr tipped a wing and let the warm draft carry him toward the Halcyon Flats. In his mind, a wandering stallion might find this place appealing, just as he had. The area was warm, and the wind was rough and heavy. Einarr had to keep his mind completely focused to balance in the air, and he only knew the winds would be as treacherous on the ground. The sun beat down without faltering on the black stallion, causing a mirrored reflection to flicker on the reflective surface of the water-covered sands. Even as he flew now, toward battle and a challenge, Einarr knew he enjoyed this place. Next to the Dragon's Throat, the warden held this setting in high esteem. It reminded him of where he had grown up, where he had learned to fight and fuck and worship his gods. It was unique, and Einarr felt his heart beating in rhythm to the winds that ripped across the open expanse of mirror-like desert.

After flying for what seemed like hours, Einarr spotted a mirage-like figure dancing on the glass-like ground below him. The stallion's face hardened with his resolve and his armor sprouted to life from his wings. It was a comfortable weight, though the stallion was still adjusting to the way it felt on his back and against his skin. Tightening his muscles, Einarr coiled his body some and descended. Sienna eyes, like burning hot embers, washed over the bodice of the charge before him. He, in the very depth of his breast, knew this was the stallion Ampere had sent him after. The ashen stallion matched the description the Chancellor had given him, down to the very last hair. He was a grullo--like Einarr's father--dipped in red markings like blood, and a spiraled red horn touched his brow. At his heels, a tiny fox followed him. Before his hind, cloven hooves touched the ground, Einarr bellowed a command. "Voodoo! Release Dragon's Throat Key, or face Einarr!" His voice was deep and laced heavily with the power of his rank magic, Battle Cry. The magic had afforded him an upper-hoof in the past, subduing Histe momentarily to let his attack land on her brindled body. He hoped now, that as Einarr descended on him like a massive angel of death, Voodoo would falter in fear.

Einarr's hooves finally touched to the ground and his body armed itself for battle. His dark neck arched above his powerful chest, center of gravity lowering as he prepared to spring towards the stallion. Like massive flags, Einarr's wings steadied at his side, ready to engulf the rushing wind and send him airborne once more at a moment's notice. Large nostrils flared as Einarr snorted, eying the blood-stained stallion. Ampere had said Voodoo was once a warrior on their sands, and that meant Einarr could not underestimate him. Their warriors were the finest in Helovia, with the skills to outmatch any opponent. However, Einarr was a guardian of the sands, no mere warrior among them. He was blessed by the Sun God with skilled magic, showing his standing in their army's hierarchy. Einarr, a warden of the sands, was a force to be reckoned with, and every movement he made demanded respect and awe.


[PC: 1/4 | WC: 665 | Challenge for Voodoo's DRAGON'S THROAT KEY. | Setting: Halcyon Flats, midday. Sunny, bright, warm. Very windy.]

einarr
I raise my flag and dye my clothes
It's a revolution, I suppose
We're painted red to fit right in

if you bury me, i'll bury you
pixel by sourful

Voodoo Posts: 231
Outcast atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: Eight :: Birdsong HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Ouija :: Arctic Fox :: None Nevada
#2


Small paws struggled to land in each ghostly hoof print left behind in the sand as the fox bounded forward once to your every three strides, her thinned coat browned against the colorless earth and dark eyes squinting hard. The two of you wandered with the wind, your stringy mess of hair wound around thin back legs and tickling at the underside of your belly. Per usual, Ouija was the first to sense the dark creature's hungry eyes from above, her hide crawling into a defensive puff of white and brown hair all along her neck and spine. Her nerves seemed to seep into the ground and wriggle through your body from the hoof up, resulting in a nauseous pit in your gut. Glassy eyes shot up to the hair-smeared sky only to be half blinded by the scorching sun; but from the heavens came a thick black body wrapped in feathery wings, blocking the orange star like an eclipse.

As if the menacing dive from the sky weren't frightening enough, the tone of the stranger's voice broke what nerve may have been hiding somewhere deep within your body and sent a hard shutter through your spindly body. Wide glossed eyes watched the grainy earth quiver and move willingly under the stallion's body as he connected once more with Helovia's solid foundation. Eyes that mimicked dried crusty flakes of blood watched you with some ferocious thirst that you could never wear comfortably. Dazed - whether by nerve or the "Einarr" stranger's bold voice, you're not quite sure - and completely confused, your brain couldn't piece together the puzzle that he had laid out for you. Key? What key?

The poor trinket that had gifted you with flight (on very few occasions) was tangled and matted into the thick of your mane, making a shiny appearance only when the light was able to reach out and brush it just right with soft finger tips. It felt like a whole minute had passed between the stranger's landing and now, but it had only been enough time for you to shove your body backward in two awkward, unsteady strides. "M-my key? Why do you need it?!" The wind moaned over your pitiful, weak voice, making you appear to be even more of a child than usual. The man's wide skull drew into his chest, the burly wings that you had just before thought were covered in downy feathers now concealed beneath rough plates of dark scales. They stretched across his entire body, dull like a snake's skin in the sun and no longer reflecting the burning light in the sky.

A quiet growl gurgled in the fox's chest, nearly hidden below the same gust of wind that buried your own voice. The dark stranger covered in foreign skin hadn't yet made a move, but she could feel the panic coursing through your body and shoot from your nerves. As she has always been much braver than you, the young fox was more than willing to try to stand her ground. Big ears flopped down on her shaggy neck and she lunged forward, shiny little teeth aimed at the highest point of Einarr's right foreleg as she could reach (which was just shy of knee height). We wanted to explode with laughter at the mighty little creature's attempt at a fight, but we could only shake our heads at how pathetic one must be to let their dog make the first move.

Ouija's brash move made your stomach churn once more; a simple kick to the face could leave her out cold, or worse. Now, in your mind, this was not about the key, but your companion's safety. Without hesitation, you dove forward to sweep the defending toddler from Einarr's reach, the matte bone jutting from your long forehead tucking low as your teeth attempt to grab at the fox's scruff.

"Voodoo." 'Ouija.' 'Voices.'

Sorry for the rambling post, it's been a while! <3
Ouija lunges at Einarr's right shin for a bite as the attack.
Post: 1/4
Word count: 645


Image by Nicole-Studios @ DA
EVERYTHING YOU'RE RUNNING AWAY FROM
IS IN YOUR HEAD
[Image: 5389e9aca8b63]
Please tag him in every post!

Einarr Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 hh :: 8 years HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
Time
#3
Some might be intimidated, staring down a creature painted in blood with the red eyes of a demon, but Einarr stood without fear and without an ounce of hesitation before Voodoo. Einarr's own sienna eyes were nearly the same shade as the once-member of the Dragon's Throat, and the splattering of blood upon the grullo's maw was nothing to the warden. Afterall, he was no stranger to warpaint. Trained and experienced eyes flickered over the tall, skinny stallion. Surely, with such long legs and tight muscles, the blood-stained would be faster than the warden, who was weighed down with hardened muscle and large wings. Surely, the guardian would outmatch him in strength, but he would need to be prepared for this stallion's ease of speed. Histe was built much like this stallion, and she could move with the precision of a viper. Einarr had brought her to her end, and while the inky man did not intend to kill this one before him, he did intend to win and take his prize back to his superiors.

Einarr coiled himself, preparing for the stallion to strike, but instead his  words washed over Einarr's ears. While Voodoo's eyes were clear of emotion, Einarr could almost feel the fear trembling behind his words. The warden was thankful, then, for his rank magic and the blessings of the Sun God. The satisfaction he felt for causing such a response from his opponent rippled over his breast like a lingering kiss from his lover, but the superiority showed not on his face. Einarr was perpetually painted in a cold, icy demeanor, yet with blazing eyes like hellfire and brimstone when locked in the throws of battle. There was no room for pity within him as Einarr prepared for what was to happen. "Einarr retrieve key because Voodoo abandon Dragon's Throat." The stallion's voice was hard and gruff, and the words had barely escaped his lips before the little fox was lunging for him.

Without blinking, Einarr snapped his wings in tight against his sides and lurched forward. The strong winds buffeted against his hardened body, but the stallion still did not falter. The ground beneath his hooves grasped at him, trying to slow him down with the watered-down sands, but the stallion was a product of the desert. Even moist sand was easy for him to maneuver, to hold his own against an opponent. He would not succumb to defeat from the terrain, but instead would be a victor over its tricks. Cloven hooves dug wells into the moist sands as he burst forward, but the fox's teeth still managed to scrape across the front of Einarr's right foreleg, scraping hair from skin just over his cannon. With a swelling fury only brought on by battle and no personal ire towards this stallion, Einarr stomped down harshly in an attempt to knock the silly companion away from attacking again. Rolling his shoulders forward, Einarr adjusted some to the right as he continued his charge. The massive bloodrider attempted to slam his armor-clad left shoulder into Voodoo' own left shoulder, hoping to make the thinner stallion lose his balance. With the sun raging overhead, the sparkle of the Dragon's Throat key was easy to detect. Quickly, the blackened stallion opened his jaws and shot his head forward. His blunt teeth aimed to snap onto the key so he could forcefully remove it from the bloodied stallion's grasp. While his intention was to grasp the key, Einarr would feel no remorse for landing a bite on the stallion. This was a war between them (should the stallion fight back, that is) and in war there were casualties that were unintended.

His right leg throbbed dully, but the small jolts of pain running up the length of the extremity each time his cloven hoof touched the ground were nothing compared to the true damage that could be done to that bone. He had seen warriors break legs on the battlefield, and even in friendly spars, with one misplaced step or reaction to their opponent. Thankfully the small bite would not hinder Einarr too much in this battle, but it would surely be a reminder of the little canine's teeth and tenacity. If the black stallion were not so focused on the task at hoof, he might linger on the hilarity of what had happened. The small fox could be so easily decimated by Einarr's prowess, and still it lunged forth to strike him. The companion was like the women of the Dragon's Throat herd--small, but ferocious.  


[PC: 2/4 | WC: 758 | Challenge for Voodoo's DRAGON'S THROAT KEY. | Setting: Halcyon Flats, midday. Sunny, bright, warm. Very windy.]

einarr
I raise my flag and dye my clothes
It's a revolution, I suppose
We're painted red to fit right in


@Voodoo

if you bury me, i'll bury you
pixel by sourful

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#4
Voodoo defaults to Einarr. Einarr earns 0.5 VP and the key.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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