|
Hot damn! Where was this mare in the Basin? Gone were the soft spoken whispers, leaving only the darker soul. It made his laughter boom deeper, rolling in the twisted love of this game they played, and to see the Amaranthine in her true colors. Gone were the days when the tension in him saw only fire at the slightest insult. Once more he could laugh.
Would she be surprised though to know the truth about him? Or would she think it another lie to hear how the gold had done no wrong in the mountains, but left, in secret? That he left that vale because it made him sick, and he felt crushed under the weight? Perhaps the tale would one day be told. But probably not (So perhaps it was better she did not speak those thoughts). Clearing his name wasn’t exactly a hobby. Getting it dirty, now that was a blast.
And get it dirty he did. The black coat of Archibald trembled with effort and began to lather in sweat. The magic lashing out in his blood was untamed, and the effort to keep it all together was enormous. Oh, but the surging power was addicting.
The quick tongue of the mare did not match the speed of her steps, and the willed projectiles took aim. But instead of cries of pain, only a small hiss, and the clink of stone on metal reached his ears. Growling Archibald looked up, preparing to-Wait…who was that white and red mare?
Haldir was ready. The little brave stag would not leave his bonded to face the dangers alone as before. This time they were in it together. A dark shadow passed overhead, glinting with silver, but the deer was ready. He sidestepped quickly away from the gold as dark mists began to swirl at his hooves and tines. Head tosses, threatening, the bold of his youth arming him-but…something’s wrong…Pale eyes glance to gold black, to see confusion on his brow.
Panicked the deer yelled through their connection. ”Thranduil! Ophelia!” She was readying for another attack! Yet only a small “Who?” returned. And the gold exhales, not sure why he was in the form of Archibald anyway, and the black form falls away like dust. Haldir was desperate. How could the gold suddenly forget- Oh! ”Magic!” That did it. Thranduil still didn’t know the mare, but he would not yield to magic. He was losing the memories, and the mare’s form coming towards him was already flickering away, yet the magic must be stopped (no matter who, what, or where it came from). A silver stone awakened in his circlet, and there it swirled dark, shielding.
Then it all broke. The stone shattered as the magic was reflected, and turned against the maker. What it would do the gold did not know. The gold inhaled anew and the devil’s grin rose back on his lips for his escape. Haldir felt the change through the bond, and with his own grin (satisfied to show himself needed here) faced his foe, mists rising now all about him. Yet with the magic ceased, the blood stained mare reappeared to the golden, and the smile turned wicked again. Ophelia. Clever fucking mare. The gold wasted no time (for there was little left), and whispered sharply: “Anduial.” Metal snapped out, losing the usual grace for the demanded quickness.
As metal plate began to unfold over his eyes, and a multitude of horns grew, the golden’s head and shoulder surged right. His hinds, with shields snapped over them, shoved off, propelling him, putting power behind his blades, and sending snow flying. His body though protested, with the recovery from his fight with Tingal not long past, and the effort of his prior attack, he was slow and already worn. Plus there hadn’t been time to aim, nor chance to find a weak point in the armor. So the gold could only aim low, and jerk up, hoping to hit something, and dig deep and long, or at least shove his weight into her and throw her off.
Only he was hit first. A clack of sounds, as Ophelia’s horn struck his collar, yet his own attack has him moving, and the horn slid, slipping from the collar. Pain stung on the golden’s shoulder as the damn mare’s horn sliced into his shoulder, before meeting metal once more. The cut was small and only deep where it slid off the collar, yet the nerves burned with fire, and red ran freely. Oh but the golden was a twisted man and as the pain singed his shoulder, his own blades still sought revenge and his wicked, smug smile never faltered. This was more like it. No more quiet, tame Basin afternoons. Good Gods he missed this life!
OOC:: USES A SPARK AMULET
WC:: 799
ATK:: 2/4
INJURIES:: Slow from Tingal, Small shallow scratch 4" long on shoulder
Identities:: Erebos, Tembovu
Items:: Circlet (polearm, Spark amulet, Moon amulet(containing Ashamin's heart magic))
SUMMARY:: Thranduil drops Archibald's form confused by Ophelia's magic. Haldir, preparing for Tinek, tells him its magic and the gold summons a spark amulet. He sees Ophelia and calls out his armor, and tried to lunge toward her, but gets scratched between collar and armor.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
⇒
[JUDGED] I never call it even [Thranduil Challenge]
