the Rift


Test a Rose's Thorns [Tembovu v. Orithia]

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#1
Tembovu
He had felt the need, the duty, to provide an outlet to those of the warrior ranks in the Edge— despite the growing part of him that was finding he had grown weary of fighting. He did not mind the pain, though it lasted long after the spars. He did not mind losing, his ego had been far too abused in other manners to truly mind defeat.

He minded the attacking. The formulating a strike that would cause pain and harm to a herdmate. It wasn’t that he couldn't do so— he had been a soldier, once. Yes, his skills were rusty. And yes, it was true that his tongue had done more wagging than his horn had been slashing, as of late. But, the true root of his wariness had been the constant stirring of his beast, his personal demon, every time he rose to the challenge of a spar.

Every attack, every landed assault that drew blood, bruise, or even just a grimace in his opponent was a feast for the beast. And, in the face of his loss and loneliness, there was very little reprieve from or control of this destructive animal that laid in wait within him.

But, duty was duty. It was wrong to shirk it. And there had been a mare he had recently welcomed into the herd; a rose’s thorn, so filled with malice and rage, it leaked from her eyes and wilted her petals. A woman like that needed a release for her fury. He knew that so very well.

“Orithia!” The roaring trumpet commanded across the Edge, rolling up the hill and through the trees. He had chosen a wooded area, close the the border of the Grove— perhaps reminiscent of his spar with Nyx. He shook the thought from his head. He knew that this winged mare was beautiful, but the hostility that rolled off he in waves was tangible.Show me how you wish you protect the Edge!” He glanced upwards to the waning sun, the warmest part of the chilly Orangemoon days.

A:0/3
D:0/1
WC: 344
Notes: Extended timeline. @Orithia may have first attack.
Summary: Clear day, late afternoon, set at the forested southern border of the Edge near Secret Grove. There is a slight incline to the ground, and he his (perhaps unwisely) at the downhill part looking up, towards the Edge.
Once more into the fray
credits | table by Neo

Please tag Tembovu.

Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#2
ORITHIA


The bellow shook the earth, sending the birds scattering from their roosts to be enveloped by the azure expanse of the sky. Tilting her head back, Orithia watched the wind's children disintegrate into the eggshell oblivion, her lips curling ever so slightly. A challenge had been issued, a call to test her worth; but what this King of Elephants did not realize was that a test to her worth meant nothing. 

She was worth nothing.

Her body was merely a case, a conduit through which hatred and fury reigned supreme. There was nothing left within the mare that held anything of value. Kindness had no place in her heart, the ivory woman would sooner strangle someone with the same hand she had fed them with. She had learned quickly that it was better to create ghosts than to mourn those that had turned to such; for the jaws of ghosts are far more fragile than the bite of grief. 

The cruel grin spread wider over her coral lips as she moved toward the sound and scent of that which stood as her sovereign. Her pulse quickened in anticipation, of the coming battle, of the imminent wash of blood that would stain the earth, of the inescapable need for release. She increased her pace, weaving through the trunks with ease as her conscious slipped into a state of sublime focus.

At last, she descended the slope and came to stand before her behemoth patriarch, the scythe of his horn catching the light of that golden disk in the sky. Some may say that there was no honor in refusing to face an adversary head-on, but Orithia was not acting on whatever pitiful amount of honor still slithered through her veins; no, it was only her self destructive sense of pride that planted her frame in front of the colossal male. The smile still graced her lips as she gave a mocking bow, pastel eyes flicking up toward the gaze of Tembovu.

"Honored to oblige."

With a snap her wings were extended, primaries brushing against the gnarled trunks. In an instant, the mare shifted into a rear and kicked out viciously toward the massive stallion's chest with both front hooves. Orithia's mind began to catalog the possible outcomes of her actions, the potential reaction of the stallion that may cause her strike to miss. Narrowing her coral hued eyes, the mare bared her teeth and arched her neck as if to bite at Tembovu's neck, but the move was a farce - hopefully a successful one. 

Balance still placed upon her back legs, the banshee pivoted to the right, relaxing her left wing and arcing it toward where she believed her King's right shoulder would remain. There, upon the tan flesh that coated his muscle, she had spied what had looked like fresh scars. The weight of her body and the pull of gravity combined to create a tremendous amount of momentum; if her aim proved true and if Tembovu's old injury was worth its salt, the blow would be unforgiving.

In the best of scenarios, her hooves would find the earth once more and she would leap away to stand with her back against the rough bark of a tree; but alas, the worst of scenarios tend to hold more sway with the fates. 




A: 1/3
D: 0/1
WC: 552
Summary: DISCLAIMER, ORITHIA IS THE BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG. okay, She tries to hit Temby with her front hooves and then if he's still there, she is gonna try to slam her wing into him while remaining flowery and pretty.

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#3
Tembovu
Beautiful and smiling, the woman of ivory rage stood before him, rose-accented body encasing the venomous hatred that overspilled from her long-lashed eyes. It leaked into her smile and her sweetly spiteful words. Despite the (refreshingly) honest animosity that billowed out from Orithia, he could not help the amused grin that crossed his face at her smartly sassy mouth.

Though it melted from his face as her wings snapped open with breakneck speed. Still not accustomed to fighting those with wings (they did not exist in Dorobo), he was momentarily beguiled by the magnificent fury that moved towards him. But, as her lithe and athletic legs drove sharp white hooves at his chest, his old training belatedly jerked his muscles into action. Hurriedly, he backed away from her attack. But he was too late to entirely avoid her hooves, which left malevolently affectionate love-scrapes against his solid, black chest, removing hair and the first few layers of thick hide.

Sluggishly, as if deciding if this was worth its appearance, a few drops of blood from ruptured, superficial capillaries beaded to his skinned chest. It stung sharply, but was more of an annoyance than a true pain.

Her coral primaries gently caressed the newly scarred skin on his shoulder, as his backwards movement had taken him out of the way of her wing’s punishing blow. Though a brief flare of appreciation for that attack sparked in him— seeing the new skin and exploiting it was a cunning strategy. He began to rethink his initial impression of her as a raging, reckless warrior. Perhaps she was a sharpened weapon rather than the blunt hammer he had imagined her as.

Dark blue eyes, shining with adrenaline and excitement (and perhaps relief, as his inner beast was thankfully dormant), he watched her begin leap backwards, away from him. With a harsh snort of effort, he bunched his massive haunches to propel his heavy body up the slight incline. His leaping body and lowered horn followed her slight pivot to the right, giving him some of gravity’s advantage as his massive horn sought the sensitive underside of her left wing.

Though he thought his aim was true, he wasn’t entirely certain where flesh ended and feathers began. In the back of his mind, he acknowledged that he needed to spar with more of his winged warriors so that he would be better prepared in battle. Not that there was an upcoming battle. But, as he embraced the general of his past during spars, he was forever preparing for the eventual war. It was a habit that would die hard— if it died at all.

As his heavy body lurched through the air, his eyes darkened while he studied the mare of feminine lines and contrastingly athletic muscle. Again, his ever-busy subconscious wondered what would give such a beautiful mare the need for such fury and rage. The image of her standing before him, defiantly, entire being a destructive dare, flashed in his eyes. Did she want to be hurt? The thought soured his mind and, unfortunately, stirred his beast from its slumber.

It would be more than happy to oblige any of her masochistic tendencies.

A:1/3
D:0/1
WC: 534
Damage Tracker: lightly scraped chest;
Summary: Her hooves scrape his chest. He lunges with his horn towards the underside of her left wing. @Orithia
Once more into the fray
credits | table by Neo

Please tag Tembovu.

Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#4
ORITHIA


Hooves alighted upon the plush green earth as the sun continued to dip - her hooves had struck true where her wing had merely kissed his skin. Blood, bright against the sovereign's ebony chest oozed forth, yet another badge of valor stamped into his scarred skin. As the right side of her rump brushed against the rough grain of tree bark, the ivory serpent took a moment to congratulate herself on landing the first strike. It was not uncommon that the opportunity to land the first blow was bestowed upon the blushed pegasus, but each spar was different in action and intent; Orithia would not deprive herself of credit where it was due.

The smile the curled her lips had changed infinitesimally, growing only enough to display the joyous malevolence that coursed so readily through her veins. She had missed out on the dirt and blood of combat for too long; she had begun to crave the rusted iron scent of animosity and the gritty pull of fur matted with blood. Pupilless eyes flashing with something akin to happiness, Orithia felt herself come alive.

Her victory was short lived, however; the colossal form of her King was bearing down upon her with his obsidian horn lowered. Tembovu's well-muscled legs covered the distance between the pair with ease and the feathered mare felt laughter burst forth from her coral lips. The intimate proximity of their skirmish didn't allow for the pastel woman to dodge the attack and her mind only fumbled for a moment before latching onto the most profitable option available; she relaxed her muscles and raised her left wing to meet the honed point of Tembovu's horn.

Her scream pierced the atmosphere, sending birds bursting from their roosts and forcing the surrounding forest into a horrified silence.

Blood burst forth in a macabre geyser as the giant's horn sliced cleanly through the muscle and sinew near the base of her wing - at least she could credit her liege for keeping his crown sharp. The agony was a piercing, raging thing, alive and greedily lapping at the pastel medusa's consciousness; but she had been here before, walking the razor's edge between fainting from the pain and coming to life beneath the weight of one's own suffering.

She would always choose the latter.

Orithia let loose another wretched shriek as she yanked her wing up and in toward her side, driving the ebony spear further into her limb. The bellow was stained with a battle-drunk fury and even in the face of potential defeat, the thorny damsel remained some sort of beautiful. Her goal was to use Tembovu's own momentum against him, seizing his horn within the ravaged muscle of her left wing and using whatever time she could buy herself to counter the stallion's vicious charge. Adrenaline could do nothing to mask the searing pain that surged through her frame, but the pale serpent didn't need it to; she only needed her attack to land before the blood-plug that was Tembovu's horn was ripped from her.

With a pain-laced battle cry, Orithia arched her neck and aimed her gaping jaws toward her King's lowered head, hoping for her teeth to rip at an ear or gouge out an eye; anything to cause damage, anything to continue in the bloodwashed paradise in which she had found herself.


A: 2/3
D: 0/1
WC: 534
Summary: Temby's horn went clean through the Bicep muscles of Orithia's left wing, so ouch. She yanked her wing up and in toward her body to try and get Temby's horn stuck for a moment in her wing so that she has enough time to bite at his head/face
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#5
Tembovu
It was both sickening and satisfying, the feeling of his horn penetrating the sensitive flesh beneath the ivory wing. It spread, like a coral-dipped sunshade, over his thick neck while his massive spike drove into the muscles. At first it was easy, tearing through tissues; but, as he buried the cleaver further into the wing’s pulp, the muscles gripped and halted his horn, holding him in a raging embrace of self-preservation. His thick, loosely spiraled horn was an ebony plug to the blood that he could almost feel well against it.

Cream ears tilted back, both away from the unearthly scream that ripped from the malevolent rose and towards the rush of silent birds that took flight in fear of such a sound. A spike of remorse pierced his belly— and prodded the beast into full wakefulness. Azure eyes sparked, then darkened as they narrowed, not even flinching at the next screech that tore from the wounded white dove. Massive hooves dug into the cool soil, shoulders rippling in the dappled and fading light of the shortening Orangemoon days, as he resisted the masochistic yank of her wing. Her impressive appendage managed to pull him a few breaths closer to her side, but the massive weight of an Elephant could not so easily be moved. So he allowed her to dislodge her wing from his horn, grotesquely gratified as the tissues and feathers slid up its length.

He then lunged once again, seeking to ram his chest against her shoulder— too premature was his attack and so too late did angry azure eyes catch the gaping of ivory teeth that bared down towards his head. His lunge brought his face higher, placing the length of his nose rather than his eyes in the path of her bite. Both her momentum and his combined, meeting in a sickening crunch that was his nasal bone dorsal concha giving beneath such monstrous forces.

The floodgates opened. The highly vascularized tissues of his nose gushed a river of red, flowing freely from his ebony nostrils. The crimson was bright against his pale muzzle as gurgling breaths tried to bring bubbling oxygen through the stream. There was so much of him that needed breath, and now so little space in nostrils— even less as some blood was sucked into his airway. A choked groan muddled through his gurgled breaths, ears pinning flush with his skull.

He dropped his left shoulder and staggered sideways, trying to bring his forehand and injured face away from her. The small abrasion on his chest twinged, but he barely felt it. Vision clouded with pain and mind muddled with the inability to take full breaths, his haunches gathered and flung both back hooves toward the pale mare in a mindless, instinctive attack of her already wounded side. But, truly, the Elephant was more concerned and focused on breathing than if his massive, punishing hooves connected with their intended target.

However, the only true fear that surfaced in him was that, in the face of such struggling for oxygen, both he and his demons became one.

A:2/3
WC: 517
Damage Tracker: lightly scraped chest; broken nose/nosebleed;
Summary: Her teeth/jaws crack his nasal bone + little bones under it resulting in super nosebleed. He tries to turn his shoulders away from her and double-barrel her wounded-wing side. @Orithia Sorry for the delay!
Once more into the fray
credits | table by Neo

Please tag Tembovu.

Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#6
ORITHIA


She had slipped into the space between heartbeats.
 
There was a profound silence to behold here. In this world nestled within the dregs of reality, a wounded dove existed parallel to herself. The universe was exposed to her in painful detail and she felt sharply her own dissociation. Orithia had been here before, wedged in the spaces left behind by conscious thought, forced to play spectator to her actions as instinct and pain shoved her into the unknown.

She could stay here forever, she knew. The island haven that coalesced in the cracks of time could harbor her tattered soul for eternity. There would be no struggle, no pain, no vivid reminders of the monstrosity she had molded herself into. The desert rose could find her peace here and allow her petals to soak in sun showers blessed by infinity.
 
What a pity that her petals were only ever meant to be soaked in the blood and sweat of battle.

Reality crashed back into place, bringing with it the satisfying crunch of bone beneath her jaws. The blood that flooded into Orithia's mouth muffled her shriek of pain as Tembovu ripped away from their deadly embrace, his horn leaving behind a gaping hole in her wing. Gore quickly filled the empty space, gushing in a crimson river from the wound and dressing the ivory maiden's side in a gown of scarlet. Her pastel eyes clouded and she swayed precariously before stumbling to her right; the sudden loss of blood threatening to overwhelm the coral witch.

Orithia gritted her teeth against the darkness that hovered at the edge of her vision, too busy battling her own weakness to see the pair of hooves flying toward her bloodied left side. The Sovereign's aim was true and the battered rose felt the bones within her mangled wing splinter beneath the force. A mewl of pain slipped through her lips and again she stumbled, her right shoulder scraping against the rough bark of a tree as her eyesight blurred with the threat of collapse. She could hear Tembovu's labored breathing a short distance to her left, punctuated by gasping coughs and the iron-and-rust scent of blood. Orithia could still taste that same blood on her tongue, could feel it staining her lips and neck in a cruel reminder of her King's mortality.

It was the only encouragement she needed.
 
Eyes flashing with the remaining shreds of ferocity, the desert warrior threw herself toward Tembovu, teeth bared. Her injured wing was a dead weight at her side, leaving a thick swath of blood upon the earth and sapping at her strength. A scream ripped through her; a vicious war cry that she flung defiantly into the face of an imminent defeat. Orithia lunged toward her injured liege's throat with jaws agape, rage fueling the hope that her teeth would find purchase there.
 
A rose may suffer ravaged petals, but one must remain wary of her thorns.




A: 3/3
D: 0/1
WC: 491
Damage Report: Big 'ole hole in left wing, multiple broken bones in left wing, scrape from tree bark on right shoulder
Summary: Temby's hooves broke a TON of bones in Ori's left wing and she's all weird from blood loss, adrenaline, and pain. She leaped at him and tried to bite his throat

HELLO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND SORRY FOR THE HORRIBLE POST IM TRYING TO GET BACK INTO THE SWING

@Tembovu
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#7
Tembovu

Blood. There was so much of it.

It gushed from his nostrils, it slid down his massive horn, it covered his forehead— leaked into his eyes that were blinking to clear themselves of the red liquid and darkening corners of his vision. He needed to breathe. Even as eyelids swept away the blood from his vision, navy eyes still found more blood pooling and staining the coral-dipped rose to red.

Hooves dimly registered the crack and splinter of bone beneath them. A wing was so fragile against his ivory shields. They were a raging beauty when held aloft; but when ground beneath terra-bound hooves, they crumbled into fragments. Did that not mirror this venomous woman?

His head twisted as the unearthly and enraged scream shattered through the roar of labored breathing in his own ears. Darkened, mildly distressed eyes found the open, blood-painted lips and teeth bared and gaping— they were lunging (she was lunging) for the thick hide of his throat.

In the oxygen-deprived addling of his mind, the desert rose’s bloodied face morphed— her feral fury so akin to the predators of the plains that it awakened a memory on his air-starved retinas. A lioness, claws and canines already streaked with his own russet, leapt towards his thick neck. Paws outstretched, reaching to sever the adrenaline-laden arteries of his throat; her hunting-mate already gripped and growling for a feast at his haunches.

And so instinct gripped the beast, ripping it from its hypo-oxygenated slumber and forcing it towards the rose’s thorns. A roar, choked by blood and mangled mucosa, ripped and gargled from his throat. The memory flashed and faded from his vision as corded haunches bunched. His forehand rose to an unearthly height, her gaping teeth scoring a third rivulet of superficial blood on his chest- but this barely registered in the instinctual drive of his mind.

The Elephant’s massive forelimbs lashed out, cream stained with the crimson streaming from his nose. Red-spattered, ivory hooves tried to strike towards the oncoming snake that emerged from the rose’s blossom. He did not reserve his strength, he ignored the scrape of low branches against the crest of his neck and the gravity that pulled him backwards down the hill.

His eyes saw only the pupil-less pits of coral hatred and the crushed skull of a dead lioness upon the golden grass. The rest was blackness as roaring breaths were sucked into starving lungs.

A:3/3
WC: 414
Damage Tracker: lightly scraped chest; broken nose/nosebleed; bite on chest
Summary: Tembo's oxygen-deprived brain has flashback to when he was attacked by lionesses so he rears up and strikes out towards her as she goes to bite his neck.
@Orithia Thanks for the fun fight, Eris! :D
Once more into the fray
credits | table by Neo
-

Please tag Tembovu.

Orithia Posts: 59
Outcast atk: 7.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Eris
#8
ORITHIA


She did not find the throat of her king beneath her jaws, nor did she find her own demise laid bare before her hooves; no, what she found beneath the surface of her elephant monarch was a vicious spark that combusted with such ferocity, she was sure that somewhere in the universe's grand scheme, they were one in the same. The blood stained woman didn't register the blood that exploded in a glorious spectrum of flavor and nausea onto her tongue, didn't register how the beautiful sky-blue of Tembovu's eyes darkened with an unknown instinct.

Only the scream of desperation and blood soaked need echoed in her mind; the self same noise that had burst from her lips on the night of her liberation on those waves of sand. Memories rushed at her the same way she had rushed toward her king's throat...

It was her first inspection and the leggy almost-yearling was shaking with fear as the massive stallion that had called himself her father assessed her physique. His muzzle poked and prodded at her softest, most private areas and wide eyes flooded with tears. From the corner of the dimly lit room, Taht, the child's beloved nursemaid, shook her head, the old mare's panicked expression matching that of the cherub...

Here she was again, in the same musty room with the stallion she knew as Father staring at her with that coldly calculating gaze. This time, there were no tears and there was no Taht; the kind old woman had said her goodbyes the night before. She had not wanted to see the child she had cared for on the day she came of age, on the day the babe would be broken...

The desert rose hovered above her past self, made to watch the last of countless patrons grunt and sweat and find their release at the cost of a young girl's soul. Tears painted rivulets down her cheeks as she swore she would never again be a casualty of the war they had sparked in her chest. Pastel lips both present and past parted in a silent cry of agony; for the loss of innocence and for the gain of something far more sinister...

Blood soaked her heaving sides and crusted at her hooves, layering sand and gore over her frame as she fled from the doomed city of her birth. For each tally engraved at her bedside, she had collected the debt owed to her, seizing from them with hooves and teeth what had been stolen in jewels and gasps of selfish pleasure...

And there she was yet again, rested and clean with wilted flowers adorning her hair and a gathering of kindly faces staring at her with something she couldn't quite place. They nodded, smiled, greeted her with a gentleness that betrayed her upbringing. They left her to her own machinations when needed; they didn't understand her past, but they understood she couldn't always be there with them in the present, that she sometimes was forced to fly from herself in order to escape again and again what she couldn't forget. Many did not know her, yet they trusted her with their safety, relied on her for protection and care. They trusted this wild creature with their lives and the lives of their children, and at the center of it all stood a painted Elephant King with a twisted scythe for a horn and eyes like the sky. At the center of it all stood something she didn't need to run from...

There was a scream that made it halfway from her lips as she shattered.

There was a scream that was cut short as Tembovu's hooves connected with her skull and the world as she knew it was blotted out.


WC: 627
Summary: Orithia deals with some of those PTSD induced flashbacks and then Temby KNOCKS HER THE HELL OUT BOIIIIII

OOC note: Taht means "beneath" in Arabic, which is what the people of Uumalah spoke. Taht was a retired whore in Orithia's father's harem ^.^ @Tembovu Thank you so much for this! I had such an awesome time<3
[Image: ypCJIiV.png]
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo

Time the Dice Queen Posts: 144
OOC Account atk: 50 | def: 50 | dam: 50
Mare :: Other :: 5'7 :: 22 HP: 5050 | Buff: DROPKICK
Time
#9
Both fighters ended the spar passed out. Auto-forfeit on both fighters. No VP awarded.

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#10
Apologies for the confusion!

Tembovu wins the battle and receives 1 VP.
Orithia auto-forfeits for ending the fight passed out.

From auto-forfeit no rubric will be provided. For feedback, please seek guidance in the Growth Center.


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