the Rift


I dream you're still here [Jen]

Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#1


Aithniel
The first flame burned gloriously, but the second flame burns cold.



Aithniel awaited another battle, eager to test her skills and learn. She paced along borderlands and realms, seeking a player for her bloody game. It was not vengeance or violence she sought, but learning. If anyone came at her, she wanted to be able to swiftly put them down - just like an alpha would yank a beta into submission with snaps, snarls and ease. Maybe then she could be like Gaucho, so strong and capable. Maybe then she would be worthy of a greater title? Maybe even a lead warrior? That was a good goal and something she hoped to attain, one day.

Einarr would be hard to uproot from his position, but she was willing to chip away at the old man until she used him as her steps to ascension. One battled at a time. One day, one hoof forward. This little sunny princess was not going to be content with sitting in a tower and waiting on prince charming to come to her rescue. No, she was going to rescue herself and choose her own destiny.

The end of Orangemoon was proving difficult though, as cold was settling in rather thoroughly. She couldn't even imagine being in the Basin right now. They were probably all popsicles with sticks up their butt and frozen. Except Erebos... He was different. Zera was even complaining about it, and he rarely felt or said a word, silent little watchman as he was. The griffin settled into her shoulder, bright golden eyes peering out from her hair as he snuggled into her warmth.

This time, he had to watch and see so that he could learn about this fighting thing too. She was curious what he would think about it, since he seemed to hold no opinions about anything else. Now, she would just have to wait where she stood in the center of her world next to a decrepit, leafless tree. Surely someone would make it before sundown.


[[(0/3) (words here)
- OPEN SPAR! Any opponent welcome! (Jen claimed it!)
- Location: Thistle Meadow at Noon on the last day of Orangemoon
- Terrrain: VERY cold but no snow and no clouds in the sky - sort of that wan, bright winter light
- No other restrictions

(TO ADMIN :D I will post my battle rolling thing once I know my opponent)]]




But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#2
Ashamin

Aithniel was not the only one in the thistle meadow who was anxious. The haruspex and his companions (both complaining noisily about the time of day, in paintings and brays alike) trod through the snow of the Basin's border and south, all at Ashamin's command. Be strong, boys, he told his companions to quiet them, it's going to be worth it.

By the haruspex's definition, worth it meant a spar to spike his energy and exercise his powers. Though he was slowly growing stronger as he trained, Ashamin knew that there was much more to becoming a warrior than a few encounters. He would have to be diligent, never ceasing in his practice. He had left the Basin not just because of the relentlessness of the cold, but also in search of a fight. Thus, he appeared prepared. The cannon guards of the honey badger's armor warmed and protected his legs, his necklace still hung about his neck, and Mriga was kept close and sheathed. He had left much behind, not wishing to weigh himself down excessively with the rest of his armor and more, but chosen his artifacts well. As much as Ashamin longed to explore the power the Moon Goddess had insinuated rested within the runes of his spinal piece, he'd not had enough time to study or harness whatever magic was inside the antlers.

The sight of Aithniel (so unique and easily recognizable) in the near distance was hope. His steps were high and filled with energy, his tail was moving constantly at his back as he herded his young companions forward with it. Coal eyes bright, he called out: "Aithniel! Care for a spar?"

He drew closer but not too close, bowing neatly when it seemed appropriate. His head cocked, a small but not sinister smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I don't know about you, but I need to do something to keep warm on days like this," he said. He was used to far colder weather than this in the Basin, but he wasn't sure if she was. Then again, the brightness of the day left the primarily nocturnal haruspex at a disadvantage. He awaited her response, stepping back and girding himself for whatever move she would make.



""

Credit


WC: xxx/800
AP: 0/3 CD: 0/1
Note: Whee! Excited! Sorry for the delay.


See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead


Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
#3


Aithniel
The first flame burned gloriously, but the second flame burns cold.


If she had to describe the Haruspex of the Aurora Basin in one word, her current term would be "forthright". He was honest, open and not in the least bit withholding. Though his plainly spoken thoughts of Rikyn had made her mind uneasy, she was glad he said something - glad that she knew. Knowledge was power too, even though she prescribed more often to the power in violence. Thus, when she saw his compact frame and minx-like tail come into view, she let the tension in her shoulders melt. Friends? Maybe not, but he wasn't an enemy by a long shot and that was saying something.

She turned to face him, the little griffin still tucked beneath her hair, expression content but not overly excited or friendly. Such was her way. Aithniel was not a creature of overt affection as she had never truly learned what that meant. Instead, she stayed beneath the veil of her own shadows, watching from the comfort of her own company and that was perfectly fine. In a way, she was a rare breed. She didn't need others or companionship, not like most.

Breath puffed from her nostrils in silky clouds, and she nodded once, observing the way he seemed to herd the two deer-like creatures at his sides. Almost as if he read her mind, he called for a spar, and she nodded, raising a single brow at the statement, which followed. There were other things to do to keep warm in the winter besides violence, but she held her tongue. Aithniel was not here to keep warm, but to study and practice. "Seems reasonable," was her cryptic reply, but she smirked nonetheless.

"One moment." Aithniel urged Zera to climb from her neck into the boughs of the trees above. The little white lion griffin tumbled in fluff and feathers onto the branch, keen little golden eyes observing without judgment or concern. He offered a gentle trill of affection before yawning and snuggling up into his own tail. “Stay put. Watch. And learn." Her orders were simple and undemanding.

Aithniel backed away from the tree and regarded him once more, silver eyes sweeping over his lanky and unbalanced looking body. She was a bit more compact than he was, but overall, they seemed similarly matched. Her main concern was that she would not only be fighting him, but also two deer. The mare frowned a bit, trying to think of a useable strategy before settling on the tried and true method of “winging it”. The irony of that phrase did not escape her.

“Let’s go.” The sun child did not hesitate to pounce into flight, wings spreading wide as she leaped into the air. Aithniel did not want to get crowded by the unicorn and his friends, so she circled just above their battleground, clicking her flinty hooves together to summon a spark. The little ember flourished in the presence of her powers, growing to a massive ball. She sent it flying down, her intent to separate Ashamin from his companions so she would only have to focus on one at a time.

Almost immediately after, she landed and focused on her main target, ducking her head as she moved to get into his proximity. Once she believed she was close enough, she yanked her head upward, hoping to clip his jaws with the brunt of her curved, bony horns.



-------
(1/3) (567 words in word)
- throws a fire ball to separate Ashamin from his companions
- lands and tries to clip his jaw with her horns






@Ashamin

But burn down our home
I won't leave alive


Please tag me in everything!

Ashamin the Clovenheart Posts: 426
Outcast atk: 8 | def: 11.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 HH :: 5 [Frostfall] HP: 79 | Buff: NUMB
Lochan :: Plain Cerndyr :: Dark Mist & Rakt :: Common Cerndyr :: Starpast Jen
#4
Ashamin

Three sets of eyes should have meant three times the attention. When Ashamin watched, so did his companions. They were vigilant, Lochan always leading the way and Rakt quietly contributing, doing more than he ever seemed he would. Sometimes, though, even six eyes could miss one important thing.

Ashamin's care for these companions was greater than he could fathom. He took care to wait for Aithniel, nodding in focused respect as she excused herself to care for her griffin. It was a moment well spent, a gesture that temporarily garnered immense respect. The haruspex did not yet know much about the mare, but her gentle treatment of the griffin was a good sign.

Still, a spar was to come. The time she spent speaking to her bonded, Ashamin occupied by running his coal eyes over her frame. She was slightly smaller than he (though with the addition of her wings, not noticeably) and did not bear the scars he had earned through practice. Her runner's legs were plain to see, but Ashamin guessed he might be more agile, based on his presumption of having greater experience. He judged the fight would be fair enough and pulled his head back to watch and prepare, not noticing his own youngest companion wandering off.

Lochan was, by now, old enough to join his bonded in spars. Rakt, though, was still a mere babe with milk teeth. Were Ashamin less focused on sizing up his opponent, he might have remembered to specifically herd the young red cerndyr away. As it were, Ashamin had let the simple but integral step slip his mind. When Aithniel declared the start he found himself frozen in awe of her spread wings; Rakt, passive as ever, did not have the sense to look up.

It was only Lochan, stationed by Ashamin's right flank, who saw the spark from the clacking of the hybrid's hooves. The understanding of it, however, came too late. None of those six eyes foresaw the flame's trajectory, and none predicted the harm of its heat. Rakt's aimless and childlike wandering put him almost directly in the path of the flames, and when the fireball landed just behind him, hot earth was flung onto the small cerndyr's back and hindquarters.

The burning brought forth every sensation. There was the cry of the ruddy bonded, learning what it was to feel pain for the very first time. There was Lochan's desperate lunging towards his brother, as if he could save him from the heat of ash and flame. There was the mixing of stardust with ash and ember, the hissing steam of fire meeting pure cold earth. Then there was Ashamin who felt all their pain combined. Crackling in Ashamin's skull was Rakt's fear, confusion, and burns; Lochan's overflowing fraternity and uncertain confusion; and his own body's interpretation of the pain through the bond as a stinging and reason-wrecking headache, and his heart's understanding of his mistake.

Ashamin tried to shake off the pain as Aithniel landed and seek Rakt out. Protect the herd, shield this brotherhood, his every moral code screeched. Lochan sent back every signal he could, though, to stop the haruspex in his tracks.

Go, the little eye urged. Fight.

As much as Ashamin wished to argue, he could not. Through rapidly blinking eyes he saw Aithniel's fast approach and Rakt, struggling to stand far to Ashamin's right and move further to the sidelines with Lochan's aid. Rakt would hurt, and so too would Ashamin through their bond, but he would recover. Lochan was right; the haruspex needed to focus on striking back.

Ashamin vowed, then, to not let the mare strike him without forcing her to consider the hurt she had caused. He became volatile; he set off at a run, moving leftwards and hopefully away from Aithniel's oncoming form. Slowly he tried to focus his magic and harness its nascent powers so that a manifestation of this near-stranger's heart might appear where he had been. If he was lucky, the electric creature would be directly in Aithniel's path and take whatever damage she had intended to inflict upon the haruspex.

Ashamin did not have mercy, now. Let her hopefully see her own heart, whatever it appeared to be--which, with Ashamin's little knowledge of her, would likely be some infant hybrid of the two studs Rikyn and Erebos, bearing wings like the mare's griffon and fighting itself and biting off its own two heads--and face whatever lay within her. Everyone had ugliness inside them, even if they couldn't see it. The haruspex kept running and shaking his burning head, praying for his companion with every heart and hoofbeat. Let all horrors be revealed, the haruspex thought with condemnation of the mare who'd hurt his bonded. See yourself now, as you are.



""

Credit


WC: 798/800 (wordcounter.net)
AP: 1/3 CD: 0/1
Note: I've never used this magic in a spar before, but I was instructed that the heart manifestations should be based only on Ashamin's knowledge of a character, so Ashamin sees Aithniel's heart as self-attacking, winged, and two-headed baby erebos and rikyn, weirdly. I did my best to word this so you can avoid it entirely.

:: [ Magic: DarkxSpark | Able to manifest his/another's heart as a creature made of harmless electricity which can be hurt/killed. All damage done to the vulnerable manifestation harms its source ]
:: [ Restrictions | Lasts 30 seconds in battle. Requires permission outside of battle. ]


See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead


Time the Dice Queen Posts: 144
OOC Account atk: 50 | def: 50 | dam: 50
Mare :: Other :: 5'7 :: 22 HP: 5050 | Buff: DROPKICK
Time
#5
Aithniel defaults to Ashamin.
0.5 VP to Ashamin.


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