the Rift

[JUDGED] Heading for something that she won't forget | Ashamin challenge

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd

Consider your origin. You were not formed to live like brutes but to follow virtue and knowledge.

Her body feels like it is made from ice. She moves like her limbs have been frozen, and her mind is as vacant as the aftermath of a blizzard. Everything is blank, and pale, and numb.

And then she sees him-

Isopia has been plagued by daydreams for the past few weeks, though over the past few days, those daydreams have twisted into nightmares. Her mind, academic, neutral, and detached had somehow found a way to accommodate the feelings of love that had burst within her for Volterra. Their affair (for she knew now, that that was all it was), came to fruition after months of happenstance and serendipitous meetings. Perhaps it was when their mammoth bodies had tentatively touched that first time - a mere brushing against each other when building her hot-tub - that somewhere in the vast crevices of her mind, destiny was born.

Destiny that this would happen.

That they would happen.

And they did - high above Helovia in the Heavenly Fields.

Somehow she made it fit - she forced the jagged pieces of their intertwined stories together, as they had forced their bodies. She ignored the nagging parts of her mind that reminded her that their __________ (for even after yielding to him completely, she still wasn’t sure what they were, save for ‘together’ in some sense), was incomplete. For the first time in her entire existence, she allowed herself to dawdle happily in blissful ignorance, to ignore the prophecies of heartache and letdown that lingered in the black-waters of her mind.

And so, Isopia the academic, Isopia the careful, Isopia the anhedonic, rode the high Volterra gave her.

And she rode it right into hell.

She had met Kid first. The meeting seemed simple, innocuous. Even Hubris had mentally commended her on reaching out - initiating a conversation first. He had his reservations about her tryst with Volterra, but even he had to admit that it had done wonders for her mood. Who could have expected that the colt was one of Volterra's offspring?

One of his many offspring, as her later encounter with Zhu and Sikeax would prove.

And both were sired from mares he wasn't with. That he didn't care for. Naively, Isopia had thought that perhaps Volterra had some control. She knew that there were mares he had been with, but due to her youthful ignorance, the relevant biology eluded her, and Isopia wrongfully believed that whether or not a child was created, was somehow not mere chance.

She could forgive herself - and him - that she was not his only friend, as he was hers. She could forgive her stupidity to think that perhaps he might want her in some unique sense. She was wrong about all of these things, and yet ... yet, if he could love her, as she loved him, then the life born of that coupling, could erase whatever other inclinations he had had in the past, or future.

But she learned that the life she carried inside of herself - the one which had begun to press against her rib-cage and add to her already fluffy FrostFall appearance, was not unique, was not special.

It was just another.

Another in Volterra's long line of conquests, and another foolish act made by the God of the Earth's progeny. Only this time the mistake wouldn't end in death.

Not hers at least.

Ashamin -


Her voice is a scream, sounding almost drunk. It oozes with hate, and regret, and feels. The sort of feels that make you stagger with emotion and blur your vision with the strength of the hormones flooding your system. Isopia was having a glorified tantrum, but for one who had never let herself experience emotion - must less learn to control it - she was strung out, high as a kite, on her own grief.

She gallops towards Ashamin, breathing hard. "The God of the Spark -" Heavy breath, thunderous hoof-falls, "- told the God of the Earth-" Her body sways on the crunchy snow. She is not used to the extra fat she has put on due to the cold and the life inside of her. "-how terrible you are!"

Pride, she recalls, seems to be one of Ashamin's buttons.

Please fight me- She thinks breathlessly, as she tries to slam her left shoulder into his own, hoping that an unprovoked fight and baseless insults will be enough to goad him into action. And why shouldn't it? It had worked last time that they found each other, in this place. Even in the low-light of dusk, she is sure that he will remember her.

That he will hate her.

That he will fight her.

Isopia challenges Ashamin to fight her? lol

Setting: Rotunda at dusk. Frostfall. Chilly. Not a lot of snow on the ground - what is there is crunchy.

WC: 789

Attack: 1/4

Summary: Taunts him, and then charges at him and tries to ram into his left shoulder.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

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

With the coming of the night, the haruspex and his companions were at their sharpest. His ears tilted forward vigilantly as he stood at the Rotunda's edge, looking out over the thin layer of snow. His coat was thick and woolen, kept especially warm by the armor that he wore over it and the sentimental touch of Mriga at his side. Worn on his neck was his usual chain, a thin gold strip bearing the Bear God's mask and an assortment of amulets. In that fading light the frost glittered in a peaceful way that beckoned him and his companions further out into its cold. Not one to deny beauty, the haruspex let himself be taken in.

Unsurprisingly, though, peace could not last. The haruspex had only moments to bathe in that beauty before Lochan's central eye was pressed to his leg in warning. Rakt, too, seemed on edge. Maybe Ashamin should have been nervous, too; after all, the last time he'd been to this structure he'd been attacked by a stubborn coward. Why had he assumed it wouldn't happen again? The earthen mare had left without accepting his terms, flagrantly throwing his truce back in his face. He might have been tuned into the surroundings--the sway of the wind, the bitter chill of the dawning evening--but he wasn't aware enough of the threat always at his back.

Her voice rang out, instantly familiar and infuriating. Ashamin turned and saw her, shuddering and no longer hiding as she had before. Had she learned, at least, an honorable approach in the time of their parting, or was she just mocking him?

The moment her words formed into something the haruspex could recognize, the buck let out a snort. Maybe it was true, but knowing nothing of her role as storyteller and having not made the connection between her and the raven in the Riptide Isles, it seemed to be nothing more than foolish conjecture. As far as Ashamin knew, this rude stranger was as mortal as he.

"You again! I shouldn't be so surprised," Ashamin tossed back with a frown as she denounces him. The stag's long tail waved and curled behind him, and his two companions fanned out--Rakt moving from his right to circle the space and provide another perspective farther removed from the scene, Lochan steady on his left. Unkind as this fool's words may have been, Ashamin would not yield to her taunts so easily.

Had she kept her distance, they might not have fought at all. "Your insults have weakened, stranger. The Gods have better things to speak of than my performance, don't you think?" he replied gruffly as she started towards him in a sort of insane and clumsy fit. Ashamin was quicker and better trained than he had been when they'd last met on this field, and after fighting with Mortuus Nox the buck had learned well how to use his endurance to his advantage against a larger, more powerful foe.

She really was larger, too. Now that he was accustomed to the added weight of his armor, Ashamin moved to his right easily, cleared his figure entirely of the mare's blunt attack, and sent Lochan further left with a nod. Ashamin had seen Lochan exercise such skill against Ciceron and trusted the Cerndyr and his young but sharp antlers in battle. Even as the paint maneuvered, though, he didn't take his eyes off of the hybrid. What was inside her? Was it rage or actual insanity?

The haruspex huffed, his breath turning to an icy cloud in the air, and reached out with the tentative fingers of his magic to try and slow her heartbeat as he had Mortuus'. It was intended to be a gentle attack, a warning, but given that it was still new and he was irritated it had the potential to slip and cause major damage or halt her stone heart entirely. The hybrid mare he saw now was not the same, obnoxiously reasonable fool he'd met before. Why was she attacking so eagerly? Maybe he really was the worst haruspex the Spark God had seen, but he wasn't completely thick. Something was off.

"I called for a truce, and the offer still stands. We're both intelligent, even our disagreements have the potential for greatness. Do you really want to throw that all away?" Ashamin asked with a look like pain, or sympathy, or maybe hate for his own kindness. He stood to her left and pawed at the earth, numbing cold creeping into the clefts of his hooves. Why couldn't he just strike her blindly like she so clearly wanted? Didn't he want it just as badly? To tear Mriga from its sheath and plunge it towards the mare with deft prowess... wouldn't that be so much easier?



WC: 799/800 (
AP: 1/4

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

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd

Consider your origin. You were not formed to live like brutes but to follow virtue and knowledge.

Isopia cared little that Ashamin now had another companion, armor, or that his skill had increased. In fact, she had no idea that it had - though if she had trained as often as Ashamin had been, perhaps she would have been able to notice how much more skillful and elegant his movements had become, how he and his companions worked in tandem.

But she didn't, because all she cared about was what he could do for her.

What she would make him do for her.

However, that his first reaction to seeing her was a mere response to her obnoxious statement and a frown, did not bode well. Isopia, who had never insulted anyone on purpose before, had thought that all that was needed was some untrue statement. Isn't that what others were often so riled up about? Isn't that what she had seen and recorded in the vast memory banks of her mind?

So why wasn't it working?

Having no replies at the ready, Isopia had nothing to say in response to Ashamin's conjecture - nay accusation? - that perhaps what she had screamed was not true. Isopia knew how to deceive - how to bend the truth, or only offer half-truths to avoid certain implications - but lying was something which often eluded her, as was evidenced by Ashamin's immediate disbelief.

Not for the first time in her life, Isopia felt the gentle electrical cupping of unseen hands around her heart. Of course to her, it felt as though all of the oxygen in her limbs had suddenly been withheld. As her heart was forced to slow, despite her body's frenetic attempt to charge forward, all pulmonary power was lost to her limbs. It felt like she was running through quicksand, or that her limbs were suddenly completely overburdened just by her body weight. She didn't have the panicked reaction to this magic that she did last time, for at least she knew what the cause of it was, but she still didn't know how to overcome it. Isopia's ears pinned against her head as she allowed inertia to push her through the bulk of Ashamin's attack. Although it only lasted for a few strides, the seconds that she didn't have control over her own heartbeat, felt like eons.

Isopia snorted loudly as Ashamin deftly veered away from her attack - which was actually quite a large display of anger for the emotionless demi-goddess. Her large hooves made satisfying crunching sounds as they moved to bring the giantess to face the monochromatic keeper of her salvation.

Hubris knew the reckless thoughts inside of Isopia's mind, but he also knew that due to his relatively small size compared to her, and his youthful lack of magic, that he was no match for her will, or her physical dominance. By Ashamin's own declaration, the bronze dragon did not think that the unicorn would take advantage of Isopia's state and fatally wound her (not her at least...) even if she were to lay on her back and scream for it. Still, he couldn't just leave her alone against the three of them, even if she had brought this on herself.

So the bronze dragon darted from his position in the trees and hovered near Lochlan, more in an attempt to guard him than actually present any offensive tactics. If the deer moved, the dragon would follow. Hubris trilled a low warning sound, and though he could not communicate across the species-barrier, he hoped his intention of, I don't want to hurt you, please don't hurt her- was at least sort of clear.

We're both intelligent, even our disagreements have the potential for greatness. Do you really want to throw that all away?

Every rational inclination Isopia hadn't buried beneath layers of grief, desperation, and shame screamed out for her accept what he was saying. In fact, Ashamin was likely one of the most intelligent conversationalists she had met during her entire life (though given the calibre of Helovians, that wasn't necessarily saying much), but he had been a worthy verbal adversary when last they met. In truth, she didn't want to alienate him, but events had already been put into motion. She needed his help now, but knew she couldn't ask him for it.

Perhaps later she would explain. For now, she needed him angry.

"Now who is the coward?" She demanded, conjuring the magic from within herself to splash water - hopefully chilled by the FrostFall air - into his eyes, nose, and ears. Isopia wasn't sure that her taunt even made sense in this context, but it was an insult just the same. Perhaps if not her words, but her ludicrous statements would be enough ...

She turned her large body to squarely face him. A large target ... easy enough to hit...

Do it.


WC: 798
Attack: 2/4

Image Credits

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

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

The stranger must have wanted this, she was too smart to egg him on so nonsensically otherwise. The stallion didn't know her well but he knew her well enough to know that the mare he'd met seasons ago had not been as crippled by immaturity as the one that stood before him, screaming, now. So she must have wanted something, wanted pain, just as Ashamin had so many times before. To hurt and be hurt, wasn't that all just living these days? Part of the haruspex wanted to be the better man and turn away from this, to leave her be. She needed to rest and face whatever ailed her, she needed to be alone. If she was to find destruction, the painted buck didn't want it to be in him.

The only problem? Ashamin was good, but he wasn't that good. Suddenly every time he had hurt came back to him, and with it was the weight of all the times he had been left alone and unsupported. Thranduil had challenged and abandoned him, and Mortuus had given in with ease to Ashamin's wager when the haruspex hadn't readily accepted his help. Ki'irha was gone, and all he had left of her was the dagger along his side. He could laugh and smile with as many as he liked, but when trouble came he was always alone. People hadn't pushed for him; in times of need, they had fought against him instead of with him.

Maybe, once and before all that pain, he would have turned and left. Maybe this land had corrupted his heart, for as much as he should have been the better man and done otherwise for this mare now, he didn't have that strength anymore. It wasn't her insult that caused him to snap his teeth on the chain around his neck and thrust it up before her magic. Maybe he was a coward, Ashamin couldn't care less anymore if she thought so. Her opinion of him meant little.

No, it was the pain and exhaustion of so long being completely alone.

The haruspex winced, thinking it was just at the sound of the spark amulet shattering, and was unsure as to what would happen next. He barely had a moment to register her attack before defending himself against it, and he didn't know if it would strike her back or simply fall flat in the space between them. Ashamin didn't care; slow, thin trails of blood flickered from his cheek, and he hadn't even noticed the flying glass shards of the amulet lightly cutting him. He didn't notice, either, the soft glimmer of harmless electricity spitting out from the scrapes for the very first time. This was his apathy, his shut down in the face of her fire. Ashamin the haruspex might have been bold, but he just couldn't do it anymore.

Rakt maintained his distance, Lochan lowed softly to the dragon and pulled back, and the world began to shift. Maybe Rakt was innocent, but Lochan knew well enough what was coming next. In the slow, concentrated beating of the painted buck's heart was the preparation of magic. Slowly Ashamin tried to form the image of the mare's heart, to find what he could see inside of her. Before now he would have seen only a mirror, framed elegantly by crackling wings and casting an empty, cold sort of sheen. Now, though? Now her heart was sorrow, a creature that (should his magic succeed) would rise from the soil like a memory the Ashamin longed all too desperately to forget.

The painted buck could see the manifestation forming in his mind, something like a child in the womb. A young stallion with blood on his hind, his leg shaking and with every scream pulsing with electricity. At his feet were the stones of pain, the wide expanse of the World's Edge stretching before him as opportunity fell away. How long after that had Ashamin limped, how many times had he fallen? He stood in the cold now, focusing on his magic, and felt his gilded scars itch with disappointment. Disappointment that Zahra had found him. Disappointment that she had brought him from the brink of death. Disappointment that with this second chance at life, he was making a choice like this.

Stay back, Ashamin commanded the little eye through their bond as he bent his face to grip Mriga by its handle. Watch out for your brother and her dragon, he said as he slowly let Johnny's sheath fall away and Mriga's damascus steel greet the air with a delicate, ocean song.

"I love you," he whispered to his companions, his reflection, his family, and his world as he aimed to plunge the dagger straight into the manifestation of a heart.



WC: 798/800 (
AP: 2/4

Ashamin uses a Spark amulet. Ashamin sees Isopia's heart as himself.

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

:: [ Item: Haladie ("Mriga") | Offensive. A medium-sized damascus steel haladie with a leather handle and blades carved with the mriga constellation. ]

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

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd


Rather than responding to her comments, Ashamin seemed content with simply breaking physics. With wide-eyed astonishment, Isopia watched as the splashes of water she threw seemed to halt in midair. She heard the sound of shattering glass, and watched as, seemingly, physics began to run in reverse. It was localized to just her attack, but even so, the shock she experienced of seeing her own water flying back at her, was far more of an assault to her senses, than was the icy liquid as it infiltrating her nose and coated her eyes and ears. Isopia snorted again - this time trying to clear the water from her nose and blinked in an ugly and hard fashion to try and clear her eyes. But it blurred and burned her eyes so much so, that she believed the static-y creature which was manifesting just a few paces before her was just some artifact of the moisture in her eyes. Isopia's quad-horned skull twisted around, using the red cape attached to her pauldron to dry her teary eyes, but when she looked back, not only was the apparition still there, but it appeared even more 'solid' than it had when last she looked. 

Already Ashamin had affected her cardiac systems, and now looking at this electric creature, she wondered if he meant to increase the intensity of his previous attack somehow. Eyes wide with irrationality and emotion, Isopia realized the selfishness of trying to evade him. Could she really be so selective? The balance between maximum pain to the fetus and minimal pain to me, if you please- 

No, not even she was that cruel. 

She had wanted this, and she would accept the scars that accompanied that decision.

Flaring her wings as if encouraging the thing to move towards her, her gaze skirted briefly to Ashamin to try and discern his intentions. It was at this moment that he drew his knife. And, with a line of thought which was really as simple as, I have a knife too-, Isopia called on her magic to pull Melos out from where it had been tucked in her pauldron. Held by what seemed to be a severed claw composed of earth, Isopia held the blade in front of her assuming that this was about to become a knife fight.

But she was only half right.

Uncertainty and a complete lack of tactical advantage left Isopia rooted in place as Ashamin moved his blade, not towards her, but towards the thing.

Driven by her ineptitude and reckless need for some sort of bodily assault, Isopia rose into her hind legs to try and regain his attention. Either the thing was of his own making (why else tell it he loves it?) or it wasn't. If it wasn't, perhaps by rearing it might attack her and hurry things along. Judging by Ashamin's (external) lack of the rambunctious fury he had demonstrated in their last encounter, maybe it was better that she try to fight the shock-thing instead. 

She watched the blade plunge into the arrangement of static waves, but what she felt was indescribable. 

Isopia staggered, throwing the blade forward as some sort of last ditch effort as her legs gave way beneath her. Her forelegs plunged towards the ground and she unsteadily slipped sideways on the snowy earth, faltering several times, unable to regain her balance. She drew several ragged breaths that sounded as though she might be chocking, but in fact, it was mostly just shock taking over. Pain radiated, crackled, fizzled, scorched, burned, dove, swam, pierced, tore, gouged - and a thousand other synonyms - from somewhere in and on her stomach. Blood dripped onto the white snow like forgotten strawberries, and once she finally steadied, her shocked golden gaze rose towards Ashamin with a look of pure incomprehension.

There was no knife in her gut, but it felt like there was - and the blood dripped from a stab-wound on her belly certainly suggested that there should have been. Her mouth mimicked her eyes, in that both were large and O shaped - too filled up by confusion and all-consuming pain to do anything else. 

Her breathing came in short, panicked bursts. She knew that her body healed faster than those around her, and so despite the enormity of the pain that assaulted what felt like every ounce of skin, she needed him to do it again.

She had to be sure. She couldn't let her body heal the baby.

"Coward-" Her taunt was soft, held in by the ricocheting pain throughout her body. "If you're going to hit me-" Now it was a little louder. "-then hit me!" Grabbing magically at the frozen earth beneath the layer of snow, Isopia threw chunks of it towards Ashamin.

WC: 791
Attack: 3/4
Summary: Iso uses WEAK KNIFE THROW and COME AT ME BRO.

sl;dkfja;lskdjf deleted so much x.x

Image Credits

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

Where the knife was stuck, electricity flew. It was harmless, but Ashamin thought he could feel it burning him as it flared in his face. It was a violent outburst, one fitting of such a violent act. Ashamin could only see one thing at a time, and what he saw then was destruction in its purest form.

The manifestation looked back at him with the same incomprehension that the stranger wore so clearly. They matched each other, expressions perfectly hurt in a way that maybe they did not understand but Ashamin, oh, Ashamin...

The painted buck had been born and left alone in hurt. Now he lived as a teacher and seer, someone whose job it was to collect and share knowledge. All the stag ever seemed to have to give, though--all he ever seemed to know well enough to share--was pain. Everything he did, every move he made, was just spreading it. He could barely make out the mare through his magic apparition but he could see her well enough to see that look on her face, a look so purely innocent and lacking understanding of that lesson that he felt he had betrayed her. It wasn't a look he would ever be able to forget.

Perhaps his magic would have lasted for a few more seconds, lived long enough to change its face, but when the dagger struck the haruspex all concentration was lost. The mare's throw was weak, likely due to her own injuries, but it had enough force behind it to be cutting. The long and sharpened edge of the blade hit the haruspex with blunt force, and though he had avoided the point with luck he did not avoid broken flesh. Electricity jumped from the cut on his left thigh, crackling and spinning around a thin red line that had drawn itself there. His mouth was forced open with a pained, grunting sort of neigh and with that Mriga dropped, landing before him with an unceremonious thud. The last of the electricity before him burst, the suddenness of his magic's failure mirroring his shock at the mare's attack.

As his head snapped back to look at the injury, it didn't occur to him that the electricity was from his own being. Rather he looked to the mare, surprised that any weapon of hers would be blessed with the Time God's power. She didn't seem like the type to have his magic. Stunned, the stag watched the blood drip down her, watched for the first time the full extent of his powers. On his cheek electricity still hummed, slowly beginning to knit back together the scrapes. A glimmer of blood moved from the crackling shallow cut on his thigh and dripped, hot and wax-like, down his leg.

She called him a coward, then, but all he could at first do was stand. His jaw was slack, his black eyes were wide, and he felt cold. It was Rakt this time--not Lochan, who still watched the new dragon with care--who noticed the clods of earth being tugged out of the ground by insistent, unseen lips, and sent a flash of it in pictoral, bloody warning. The few chunks that didn't fall short already were avoided with a few uneasy steps back, every other one of which was accompanied by a pained twist of his lips as the shallow but bruised blade-cut was forced to shift alongside the haruspex's unbroken flesh. Ashamin couldn't figure out why it didn't hurt as much as it should have.

Her taunts couldn't anger him now. He was too broken to be so easily egged on. The painted buck just looked at her, tried to find her golden eyes and catch them with his own for a moment.

"What do you want from me?" he asked as the fang on his necklace began to hover, to expand, to shift. "You don't even know me," he seemed to beg as he slowly walked towards her--chest glowing and eyes wet, heart broken in every way it could be. "You've called me so many things," he tried to explain as he kept stepping closer, kept wondering if she would move away. "You've tried so many ways to turn me into a monster," he pleaded, muffled now beneath the cover of an ancient god's deathmask. "How do you know that I can be that for you?"

He paused where he stood--close to her, above her, and on her left if she'd not moved--and let his head drop for a moment. The soft glowing of his chest almost hurt when he remembered how tenderly Hotaru had painted the mark there.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW ME SO WELL?" he screamed at last, his final words before lunging for the mare's crest with open jaws to tear her open again.



WC: 800/800 (
AP: 3/4

:: [ Item: Bear God Mask | Defensive. Bear god skull from Rift SWP that can be summoned via crystal and grants the wearer jaw strength of a bear ]
:: [ Restrictions | Same weight collapsed or worn; bite only lasts for 5 seconds before strength wears off ]

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

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd


Despite the roundness of her eyes, Isopia was not actually seeing. Instead, the Rotunda swam around her, as if she was looking through a flimsy plastic screen doused in water. Everything felt cold and distant. Yet the crunching of the snow beneath her hooves reverberated loudly in her ears, in tandem with the pounding of her heart. It sounded wonderfully dissonant, and Isopia wondered if Ashamin's magic allowed him to hear it. Only because of that curiosity did the earthen-girl try to refocus her gaze and allow her wounded body to engage with the world. 

Renewed yelps and fiery-trails of pain erupted from her stomach as the mountainous-mare tried to straighten. Again, Isopia heard the snow crunch with delicious crispness beneath her hooves, but before she could ask whether Ashamin was enjoying the symphony of her heartbeat and the frozen-fractals, he was speaking. 

The words he was saying nearly paralleled what she had said to him when they were here last. His accusations had been just as unfounded as hers, and the confused tone of his voice was one that she understood. I know it isn’t fair- she might have said, but listen to the crunch of the snow - see the red - hear my heart. Isn’t it beautiful? But suddenly he began to change: bone affixed itself around his skull. She would not - could not - retreat from him, as he thought she might. Her gut was still too badly wounded, and that pain spread through her legs making her movements excruciating. 

For a moment Isopia thought it might be over, and her heart quickened. I need more- she thought desperately, as the painted stag stood before her, a glimmering assortment of markings, subtle sparks, and bone. A hush seemed to have fallen across the Rotunda as the two wise-ones stared at each other. Isopia felt the chill of a Frostfall breeze pass over her, and it helped take her mind off the blaring sirens of pain echoing outwards from her belly.

The bittersweet moment did not last. Isopia would get what she wanted from Ashamin - as well as a new wave of pain.

Isopia’s body was fixed in place. Her wounds - and her purpose - rooted her hooves into the ground. There was no way to easily evade Ashamin given his proximity and the extent of her wounds - she was too large, and he too nimble. As he lunged for her, Isopia did her best to grab the earth beneath him and force it to rise. However given her distracted state of mind, likely all she would succeed in doing would be to ripple the earth beneath him. She hoped it would jar his limbs or cause him to fall into her rather than stabbing at her again (surely blunt-force trauma would do more damage to the life inside of her?). 

As Ashamin’s body rose up to strike her crest, Isopia felt his weight against her in tandem with an inconsistent amount of pain radiating down her neck. Our jaws are not that strong.. a small academic voice whispered somewhere distantly in her mind, beneath an ocean of pain. She felt her flesh being torn, rather than bluntly vice-gripped as she had previously experienced with bites. Isopia could feel cool air pressing against her newly-revealed flesh in the pattern of what she now assumed was the bite of the skull that he wore. As her legs flailed and then failed to steady her, Isopia felt her body weight tipping away from Ashamin. She might have lifted the earth up to try and catch her - or at least soften her landing - but instead she allowed her massive body to tumble to the ground. Isopia was so tired emotionally and her body was now in such inextricable pain, that allowing gravity to take over and give her muscles a momentary respite as she fell, was all too easy.

But she couldn’t stay down. To rest would be to give her body a chance to heal, and that was a luxury she would not afford herself. 

Through a fog of pain and bodily exhaustion, Isopia forced herself to stand. Her legs shook and her stomach screamed, offering new drops of blood onto the now disturbed snow. The tributaries of crimson which sprung from Ashamin’s bite on her neck were mostly soaked up by her coat, but some were strong enough to add to the bloody rorschach test on the snow.

"Because you don’t know who I am-" She uttered, her tone oddly prophetic despite the fact that each syllable was agony. Her head was screaming, her body bruised and bloody, yet she was triumphant. 

It was no longer only the air which was cold and sang sonnets of death. Her womb now sang too.

WC: 800
Attack: 4/4
Summary: Isopia falls down, goes boom.

Holy actual fuck that was hard to cut down.

Image Credits

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

Ashamin should have known. Years after the event, looking upon his own children, the painted buck would still be haunted by his failure. Maybe there wasn't any way he could have--but no, there was--maybe there wasn't any reason to suspect it--but he shouldn't have assumed otherwise--maybe it wasn't his fault but--no, it was. He should have known.

When his jaws clamped down upon the stranger's crest his desperation was silenced and he felt her flesh yield. The mare had stood, forcing Ashamin to reach up and move closer to grab her, but she made little attempt to avoid him. Beneath the force of his bite she seemed weak, which Ashamin knew she was not. Somewhere behind him, where he no longer was due to his adjustment, was the faint rumbling of earth shifting in his shadow. Why didn't she try harder? The stranger knew where the stag was, why not strike him there?

Her body fell away from him as the bear's bite faded with time. Watching her stand was painful; watching her try to press on when he was hardly hurt (and already slowly healing) felt sinful. The last of the flesh around the scratches on his cheek patched itself, leaving only thin lines of scabs, and already the mark of the mare's blade was beginning to bother him less as beneath his skin electricity wove back together vessels that had broken to bruise. The blood trailing from it slowed, the cold numbed the pain. It was only Ashamin's heart that truly hurt, now.

This time, her words were cutting enough to make the haruspex respond. He wanted to know her, so why wouldn't she let him? The haruspex was tired of asking questions, he was tired of seeking out knowledge when, by now, it should have been seeking out him. Why wouldn't she just tell him?

"I wanted to!" came the cry, sorrowful and dripping with spittle, summoning tears. He seemed rabid as his dual-colored lips were flecked with foam and his eyes, usually so empty, shone wild with their whites. His tail thrashed and his heart burned. "I wanted a truce! I wanted to know you! But you made me... you made me..."

Made him what? Stop caring? Stop wondering? How had this stranger had such an effect, how had she swayed him to compromise all his beliefs? She had turned him into the blindly violent fighter she'd described at the fight of the rift gods; Ashamin was exactly what she said he was, now, and she was nothing to him but a shadow.

A jealous anger rose up within the paint, and the clawing bolts of his magic lunged. He hoped to tear her apart from the inside by speeding her heart rate, to bring her back to the ground and explode whatever cold stone rested inside her. She was just like Thranduil, that golden liar turning him into something he couldn't be. Thranduil had to have been wrong, even the Goddess of the Moon had to have been wrong, he wasn't this, he wasn't a monster, he wasn't...


Lochan's voice rang in the haruspex's ears, echoing with reason. Listen, the cerndyr said. Ashamin looked to his companions, his large ears falling back at the sight of the fear on their faces. Even Rakt, so often stoic, appeared terrified.

Lochan was right, the haruspex knew it. He had to listen. If Ashamin wanted to know who he was, he had to listen to the mare. Hastened by something like shame, the paint tried to pull back the destructive facet of his magic and instead utilize its gentler side, but given his panic he wasn't sure if he was quick enough to spare her completely.

What he heard, then, was a sound he would never be free of. Her royal heartbeat, affected by pain, was loud and overwhelming. It overtook his senses and forced him to throw his head down, to toss one foreleg over his countenance and hide it from her injured strength. For a moment Ashamin thought that was all, thought that maybe it was the worst he could hear, but then there came the soft patter of a little death: the first casualty of Ashamin's lost heart.

A second heartbeat, faltering and weak, became as clear to Ashamin as the blood upon the snow. He stared with horror at the ground, watching it spin and spread. Blackness threatened the edges of his vision, and everything else quieted.

There was nothing but that heartbeat, so quiet, so small, until the moment it ceased to be. Then the world came rushing back. Ashamin stumbled backwards, shaking his head in wild agony, and his body teetered as if he might fall. His companions rushed forth, pressing their bodies against his panic to hold him up.




WC: 800/800 (
AP: 4/4

Permission from Odd to have Ashamin successfully hear her and the fetus' heartbeat

Featuring Lochan as Navi
Featuring wordcount as "why do I ever bother clearing this before I start writing a post it's always 800"
Featuring my heart as broken

Thanks Odd for letting me and Ashamin be a part of this <3

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

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd

Consider your origin. You were not formed to live like brutes but to follow virtue and knowledge.

It was over, spelled out in precise cursive lettering in red blood on the white snow, and in rapidly expanding bruises and maroon tributaries on her body.

Isopia let her muscles sag, and her body leaned heavily to the side. Pain still flooded with a bright, hot, ire from her neck and upwards with a throbbing sting from her stomach, but that pain - and Ashamin's words - were like a buzz in the back of her mind. Dulled by her triumph and made inconsequential given what she had achieved. And so, when Ashamin's magic gripped her heart one last time, Isopia tensed and writhed with her breath held. She hadn't been expecting another attack from him. Foolishly she had allowed her mind to revel in her successful manipulation of him. She hadn't even considered that his reason for fighting her had not yet been accomplished, even if hers had.

Pain warbled anew through her injuries as Ashamin's magic forced her heart to beat faster. Rich, oxygenated blood reminded every inch of her body of how much pain it was in, and the demi-goddess bit back on the shriek of discomfort that burned in her mouth.

As the cerndyrs rushed to the aid of Ashamin, Hubris glided towards Isopia. He could sense the extent of her injuries and so opted to remain on the ground next to her, rather than taking his usual place on her withers.

As the painted stag's magic pulled away from her with his sudden realization of her motives, Isopia finally let forth the breath that she had been holding. The air rushed out from her hot and tired lips, crystallizing in the frostfall air like a small pathetic cloud. But much to her astonishment, it wasn't just air that she had released. Her heart beat didn't slow, despite the fact that Ashamin's invisible tendrils no longer coaxed it into a frenzy. Now it beat with a realization not unlike Ashamin's - an understanding of what she had done, in a way that she hadn't comprehended before.

Death was what she had wanted. Death for the life inside of her, born out of ignorance and a heroic lack of understanding of what she and Volterra--

--her breath hitched again at the thought of his name, and the accompanying images of the two of them together. The way they used to be. It was as if her throat was trying to clamp down on the feelings before they could stagger out of her. Another breath, this one far more tentative, though weighty with regret and unbearable misery, shimmered pale white in the air before her.

She had wanted death. But death was not all she had got.

She had got an ending.

And ending to her days of boycotting her role on this earth with the guise of intellectual incomprehension. She knew why she was here, but she had skirted her responsibilities and in doing so, had fallen in love. Even then, despite the warnings of her dead brother via the circumstances of his death, she had allowed herself to flirt with what would likely be her own downfall, by flirting with Volterra. She had allowed herself to go too far, and while engaging with Ashamin in this way ensured that the life which had begun inside of her would never be forced to bear the cruelty of the world, the repercussions of her actions didn't stop there.

It was an ending to she and Volterra (if there ever were such a thing). An ending to the only happiness that she had ever known.

And horrifically (given the dead body now inside of her), it was that knowledge which hurt most of all. Because she could no longer allow herself to love him, even though she still did.

"Thank you-" Isopia said, her voice discordantly calm and level despite what both she and Ashamin had just done. Her eyes, however, betrayed the confidence in her voice, and for perhaps only the second time in her entire life, Isopia's eyes shimmered with tears.

Although Isopia knew little about Ashamin, she knew that he would likely not be able to stomach what had just occurred easily. And so, not wanting to be party to whatever flurry of questions or flood of renewed attacks he might have planned - after all, she had her own emotional breakdown to deal with - the demi-goddess left as abruptly as she could. Her body shrunk and contorted, turning black and feathered. The transformation was painful given her injuries, but the overwhelming grief and despair that she felt easily overshadowed her bodily pains. Hubris defensively moved in front of his bonded's now raven-body, though he doubted that the trio before him were planning on attacking again. He whistled a single note, low and sad, before taking flight after Isopia.

WC: 800

Attack: Closing Defense

HNGGGGGGGGGGGG -cries ugly crocodile tears for days-

Thank you for being a part of this madness Jen. You and Ashamin did beautifully <333333333

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
By my verdict: ASHAMIN is the winner!


Realism [+3]
For a spar that was so emotionally charged, I still thought you held up your realism. You understand fighting mechanics to an advanced state and that is easily seen, even when the mechanics are not the forefront. You had good responses to Ashamin's magic and each dice roll.

Emotion [+2.5]
I had all of the feels while reading this spar. You really utilized this here, and I enjoyed it very much. It was interesting reading Isopia, a character so typically detached from emotions to a near sociopathic state, be embraced by emotion in such a tangible way.

Prose [+4]
Your writing is beautiful. Each post was clearly proofread and full of beautiful imagery. My favorite line was:

P4: “It was no longer only the air which was cold and sang sonnets of death. Her womb now sang too.”

Readability [+2.5]
Your posts were well-written and engaging. I had to re-read a few sentences to grasp them, but it did not hinder too much.

Finally tally: 44.5+(12*2)= 68.5 HP



Realism [+3]
You are an excellent fighter and it shows, even though this battle was mostly emotionally charged. You used good fighting mechanics. I liked your responses to the attacks and thought your damage fit the dice rolls. I thought it was especially clever to take damage from the breaking of the Spark Amulet! I also really liked your incorporation of Ashamin’s fighting experiences, and how you wrote them to shape his current fight.

In post one, you had a small instance of powerplay: “He stood to her left and pawed at the earth”. Make sure you do not use any definitive language in your posts, but only intentional language. Isopia has the freedom to move whenever. This was a very small instance of power play and it did not detract from your score, but be aware of it. It is so easy to write with intentional language.

Emotion [+2.5]
This spar had me begging for more in the best kind of way. Ashamin was so present in this challenge. He was emotionally high strung the entire spar and I was hit right in the feels in each post.

Prose [+3.5]
You write very beautifully. Each post was clearly proofread and handled with care. I loved the imagery you used. Your writing kept the spar moving forward in a great way. I did find one error, however, in post three:

P3: sent a flash of it in pictoral :: pictorial

Readability [+2]
Each post was proofread and flowed well. There was only one time where I found myself having to read over and over again not only in the sentence but in the whole paragraph. In post three you wrote: “Stunned, the stag watched the blood drip down her”, which confused me. Is he watched her or himself? From reading around, I think Ashamin is watching his own injuries because there is no mention of turning to look back at Isopia after he looked back at his thigh.

Finally tally: 56.5+(11*2)= 78.5 HP

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