the Rift


riiiight into the danger zone!

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.

The Hidden Falls.
 
Mother had told me tales of a painted man, with golden armor, who lived here.  The man had saved her life, once, in the Heart Caves, and his act of kindness, of selfless love, had resulted in another of her devious plots.  While I hadn’t gone with the emissaries to forge the false alliance between one community and another, I also remember that her plan had only worked on World’s Edge, and Kahlua.
 
Ah, I think of the mare and smile.  She had let me play with her scorpion, a trinket quite obviously made by my father.  Despite being hornless, she was the first adult who had ever thought that gee, maybe he doesn’t want to stand here, listening to our adult chatter, which, at the time, was very, very true.  While mother had only ever called her an imbecile, I liked to think of Kahlua as the very opposite of the woman who had raised me, rather than simply an idiot.  From my experience, my mom was quick to condemn anyone who didn’t fit her perfect little molds, a lesson I wish to take forward into my life – that, sometimes, you can’t make them fit your prescribed ideals.
 
And that’s okay, isn’t it?
 
Why else did we have Gods, if they weren’t supposed to help out with those anomalies, the shepherds left by the True Gods to defend their honored people?  I’d already seen the Gods here deal with several fluctuations, their hearts reaching out to shelter people in a far away land, and while I believe the True Gods will reclaim the souls of their abandoned offspring upon their return to a cleansed Loorien, I also believe that the Gods, Helovia’s Gods, will handle all things until then.
 
I don’t think mother felt that way at all, as I stand and half doze in the quiet serenity of the scattered groves and meadows just outside the Earth’s realm, the tall, dark silhouette of the Deep Forest to my back.  I had been admiring the prettiness of this particular herd land from a distance, thinking about the one God of these kingdoms I hadn’t yet met, seen in all his abounding glory – but, like thinking often does, I’m now dozing in and out of consciousness.
 
So, shaking my head to clear it of the clouds accumulating within, I stretch, fore limbs pushing out in front of me, ass to the heavens, rising to wander the outermost borders of this Hidden Falls, a childish delusion that I might meet this Midas (dead, but how would I know that?) while I do so adding a particular bounce to my step.
 
0/3 | 443 words
[ OOC:  Thank you for the spar Timey Time!  Lessee we are out in front of the Falls.  Random groves dapple meadows, which are all layered in a thin covering of snow, some patches hiding ice.  Relatively clear weather with some clouds/light breeze.  Feel free to modify for wherever our kids roll up on one another!  ]



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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time
#2
running all the lights with the girl of his dreams
Winter was a time that the stallion enjoyed. He reveled in the cool of the days, in the brilliant and beautiful way the sun glinted off freshly fallen snow. This winter, however, seemed to be dragging on for too long--and it had the behemoth concerned. He was traveling to the Hidden Falls, seeking his sister. He had not seen her since their encounter with Ode and the stranger on the top of the mountain, and he needed to know she was prospering. He did not doubt the careful, intentional hand of their father--no, for that would be stupid of him--but his love for her outweighed all other thought. He felt the need to check up on her in his gut, in his bones, down to the very molecules of his being. Macaria, so delicate and fragile, would always be under his protective gaze.

Thick hooves demolished the snow as he walked, leaving his hoofprints easily seen behind him. Above him, twin dragons glided on the warm rifts of air they could find. The sun warmed his back despite the presence of Frostfall, reminding him that even though the season dragged on it was still his favorite. Brienne hummed in agreeance, her tail giving a flick in the air and frost falling from her parted jaws. Gwyneverre, however, scowled as she glided on. The smaller, white girl preferred the warmth of the Endless Blue--for it was her place of origin, after all. Abraham sighed. We were just there. We will go back soon.

As they neared the place their father and sister, the trio spotted a figure in the distance. He only hesitated for a second, tail flicking against his thick hocks and ears pinning into his dark mane. Stranger the reptilian queens spoke in unison, tension rising in their guts. Abraham nodded, lifting his heft body into a trot. He remembered the dagger tucked in his shoulder plate, and the amulets tied in his mane. Who was this stallion? He did not look familiar, and he did not look like he was moving with purpose. He was too happy to be one of Archibald's soldiers, and so he must be as he: an outcast. A flare, red-hot and alarming, burst within Abraham's chest and be bellowed a call out to the stallion. As he neared, however, the bronze-gold markings became more familiar to him. He had met this boy once, when the buckskin mare had verbally attacked him for no reason. Abraham snorted, the thought solidifying in his mind. He was not Archibald's soldier, and there were none in sight, and so the leviathan had to protect his sister.

Another bellow left Abraham's throat and he rolled into a canter, steady and intentional on the snowy ground, ready to lock into battle with the other stallion.



[PC: 0/3 | WC: 466 | If you would like to, I can make this a teaching spar! Just note so in your next post in the OOC section. Feel free to have Rikyn attack first!]
abraham
art by neo || coding by neo


@Rikyn

Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down


pixel by tamme

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#3


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.


The call of war sounds over the serene hills, meshing in the crevices of stone and earth, resounding in my ears and igniting a spark deep down, the fire that, at times, is frightening – a fire that I have begun to think is necessary for a heart like mine to thrive.

I don’t know why he’s decided to come at me like a freight train, two dragons screaming their battle cry into the sky, splitting the peace with their shrill beckoning for blood, though I do know him. The smell of lavender lifts from a nearby grove, as if drawn by the memory of a foolish woman who reeked of the flower, the memory of his wrath, and the snap of the twin lizard teeth in the blood tinted air of the Spark’s stolen wood, an inspiration that moves my hooves beneath me. My heart thuds, hard, erratic against its encasement.

I had not felt fear as I’d met with Volterra, not on this level (more a concern for skill, a respect for his power), this underlying fretfulness as to what lay beneath the volatile stone surface of the boy with the white limbs; despite our differences, the behemoth and I were friends, at least the most tentative of sort, like two surly sportsman smashing chests in the midst of a meet, brilliantly one for a flashing moment before, again, we cheer for another team. This guy, coming towards me… he means business, I’m pretty sure.

I cannot remember his name (Erebos' spirit sighing somewhere at my idiocy), as well as I remember the violence descending on Frenchie, how she thought I would save her, looking at me like some devil for not stepping in to prevent her rightful punishment.

Is this recompense?

Sweeping towards him, his left shoulder revealed in proximity to be not just white in color, but covered in a violent little white sheath, prods sticking out of its surface. The nakedness of my own body is suddenly much more obvious, but it’s no matter – I’ve been training, I’ve practiced. Though my ribs still ache and some of my wounds are only deep-set scabs, I have a chance. That I’ll probably spend the next week moaning over what’s about to happen to me is a high likelihood, regardless, the odds continuing to stack in the favor of this blessed asshole careening towards me.

The shallow snow is treacherous, the gritty powder only doing so much against the hidden patches of ice; I’m lucky so far, each patch shattering with a crunch beneath my weight, but I’ll have to keep my senses on my feet.

It’s too much to think of at once, I think, furrowing my brows and snorting grumpily at the entire situation, bemoaning my adventurous nature, these predicaments I keep finding myself in.

Changing nothing of my usual approach other than aiming for his right side, uncovered, without thorns, my chin tucks in, my backward ears lifted ever so slightly to listen for dragons; unlike my last two forays with the heinous devils, the wind is but a whisper, allowing for a good chance to notice their arrival so long as I bother to pay attention. Still, the hard hammer of my heart doesn’t seem to cease, a distraction, the fire building until we’re within reach of one another’s bodies. Within what I assume to be reach, my horn tip angles for flesh, seeking to rip and tear open his right shoulder, eager to eliminate one of my three opponents from the running as soon as I can; beneath me, my hindquarters pulls down, my right fore lifting ever so slightly for balance. As my head pulls away I draw my rump around counter clockwise, rending twin arcs in the snow, hoping to pull it out of the way of the dark man’s spiraled skewer, knowing all too well how bad blades can hurt.

In fluid motion, from the first attempted strike to the pivot, I lead into a second strike with my horn, a hope to draw blood along his right side or shoulder; I’ll increase my chances to hurt him by increasing my attempts to lay him open, timing my hooves to the staccato of my heart.

1/3 | 697 words
[ OOC: Definitely! I'm always up for improvement. :) ]

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time
#4
running all the lights with the girl of his dreams
He was a thundering demon as he pushed his body toward the golden-marked one, his mane and tail waving in the wind like gallant banners of a battalion. Every step he took shook the earth beneath him--he was a god, a titan, a monster. Thick muscles rippled beneath his inky hide, the shadows of his descending dragons painted along his spine. The atmosphere changed as the trio charged toward their acquaintance--it became darker, colder, frightening. The tension rose as Abraham mounted himself against Rikyn, to protect his sister hidden within the trees and waterfalls of his father's herdland. Ice cracked and shattered beneath the leviathan's hooves as he cantered toward his opponent. Snow and ice took no prisoner, he knew that well, and so he kept his movements strong and centered.

Above him, Gwyneverre trilled a high song before swooping down, making a wide arc around the soon to be duelers. Her jaws parted and white flame poured out, melting ice and snow to reveal dark, dismal grasses below. Abraham smirked. His dragons were so keen, so brilliant. They were goddesses in their own right--queens even through death. Brienne followed the white, circling with her, poised for attack. Her green eyes never left the golden-marked boy as he ran toward Abraham, attempting to meet the son of hellion head on.

The golden boy was quicker than Abraham, that was apparent in his smaller stature and thinner legs. Abraham, without doubt, was stronger--he was taller, thicker, more robust and his body bulged with all of his glorious muscle. Where the two fell on stamina and grace, the leviathan could not determine, but a part of him decided that the thinner stallion would not tire as quickly as Abraham. Rikyn's speed gained an upperhoof momentarily as he aimed for Abraham's naked, right side--and the leviathan knew he needed to keep the thinner boy close to him should he wish to cripple him with his greater strength. Grunting, Abraham let the stallion stay there. Trained eyes watched as Rikyn's neck curled and lowered--Abraham knew this move well. His mother trained him in the fine arts of unicorn battle. Quickly, Abraham changed his three beat gait to four. It was a surge of power, feathered hooves entering the snowless ground Gwyneverre had prepared with her fire.

Tucking his large head in, Abraham let the boy's horn slide over the muscle in his neck as he attempted to move past him. Pain, white-hot and prickling, laced along his neck as his opponent's horn sliced across skin. On his right side shallow, but long, cut tapered down the bulge of Abraham's neck. He sucked in a breathe of pain, but thrust his front legs down and locked them. With trained precision his weight shifted forward and his hips aimed toward where he hope his opponent to be. With a sting, Abraham felt the horn slice over his right fetlock as his hind legs lifted. Another cut found its way beneath his thick feathering and it stung. Committed to his attack, however, Abraham aimed his heavy, devastating hooves like battering rams towards Rikyn's chest--dual-colored eyes watched the skid marks the boy made and hoped it left his chest open for Abraham to knock the wind from his lungs.

Twin dragons could feel the stinging, hot pain from Rikyn's horn on their bodies, as if the boy had attempted to skewer and slice them instead of their master. War cries left their jaws in unison, and quickly their wings flapped. Gwyneverre moved around to one side and Brienne to another. The gold lead the assault: her jaws opened, then the white's, and they took their aim. Fire and ice sprayed in broad, deadly bursts in an attempt to brandish both side of Rikyn's flanks with their respective elements. Simultaneous to their approach and attempted devastation, vines burst up from the ground. Like starving souls reaching for food, thorny vines snaked and groped for their morsel. They attempted to wrap themselves around the legs of the golden-marked assailant, hold him immobile within their grasp. Abraham smirked some, his dark face hiding any wince of pain as his hind legs met the earth with a thud once more. He lurched forward, the muscles in his neck pulled and agony biting him. He fought against it, however, turning his body around to face his acquaintance. He kept turning until his leftmost side was where he thought his opponent would be, trapped beneath the power of his vines, and he jumped forward once more, spike-laden shoulder aiming to demolish Rikyn's smaller left shoulder.



[PC: 1/3 | WC: 761 according to wordcounter.net | Magic: Can summon thorny vines to wrap around his opponents. Restrictions | Lasts one 1 post in battle. Requires permission outside battle.]

abraham
art by neo || coding by neo



TEACHING
Realism
I thought your attacks were very well executed. I would have liked to see some tactic and stat references here as he started the battle, however. I found it lacking, when the opening posts are the best place to do it. If Rikyn has been training, as you've written, it is not unreasonable for him to make assumptions on Abraham and how the fight might pan out.

"The shallow snow is treacherous, the gritty powder only doing so much against the hidden patches of ice; I’m lucky so far, each patch shattering with a crunch beneath my weight, but I’ll have to keep my senses on my feet." -- GREAT! I like this because you have not had to take damage yet, but this leaves for the chance to take that as the battle goes on. Excellent job.


Emotion
Good mention of emotion regarding the fear Rikyn feels as Abraham comes towards him. Not only was this realistic for his character, you also set it up really well by comparing it to his fight with Volterra and how he felt in that situation. It gave great depth to Rikyn that I enjoyed learning. I thought you also did a great job in giving Rikyn hope for winning against Abraham. I like his tenacity.


Prose/Readability
Your sentences are mostly long, drawn out and spliced with lots of commas. It is easier, and more enjoyable, on the brain to read paragraphs with a variety of sentence lengths. Think, for your next post, where you can change this up a little.

-- "..the memory of hiswrath, and the snap of..." needs space between his and wrath

Reflection for next post
-- Stats referencing!
-- The environment!
-- Past experiences!
-- Keeping emotion in while balancing with actions (something I struggle with)!
-- Tactics!
-- Vary sentence lengths!

@Rikyn

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#5


Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.
Running to meet one another, I can’t help but wonder if he hits as hard as his big size lets on. I wonder because the sight of his golden’s fire eating at the blanket of white as we clamor into an embrace inspires a small trickle of primal fear, the shimmering silver white of the other camouflaged on the remaining white.

The white probably knows, just as her master, that she’ll be hard to spot.

Part of me wonders if the golden one doesn’t melt the snow to keep my eyes on her shining prowess, distracted from the approach of the horned behemoth, or her snowy sister. My ears strain to catch the whisper of wind cast from the sides of a descending dragon as our hoof beats meet in a staccato song, my gold tipped horn reaching to bite into his flesh in a clean, bloody line. We both stall our charge as we meet, breaths glistening in winter sunlight, and the metallic smell of blood breaks over the chill; as I come back around to begin my second barrage, I find his hind hoofs rising up towards my face (well that’s not a shoulder), propelled with an impressive amount of force.

My aureate gaze is wide: half is fear for my handsome looks, and half is surprise at this guy’s bravado. He takes a couple good pokes to his leg and ankle for the attempt, but it’s violently effective; alongside me, from a distance, I hear the screams of his draconic bitches. I think I know what that means.

What do I do? is a useless thing bounding through my head, an echo that keeps sounding as I move to avoid the dragons. I can’t escape the buck, but I can sure as hell try to make those dragons slam into each other’s faces. I bound upwards just in time to get my chin out of the way, my body angled so that I am almost a floating serpentine, my horn tip still dangerously within reach of his roundhouse. I keep my right side away from him, afraid for the fragile state of those ribs, and sacrifice instead the left.

Both of his blunt weapons drive into my shoulder, kicking me much farther to the right than I had thought would happen. Even worse is when a staggering pain races up my left hind leg; it refused to follow the rest of me, as if it is ensnared in something. Something with thorns, that doesn’t allow me to use my speed to get out of the open (a good plan, at last!).

That plan shatters, and the dragons are still coming. I assume its some devilish earth magic again without even looking to make sure, and give up the notion that I’m moving anywhere at this moment. Instead, I reach out with my mind spark, hoping to turn the charge of his dragons against him as he begins to come back around at me (I assume to slam that titanic body of his into my painfully bruised shoulder – I would, if I were him).

I want the gold. I see her swiftly, like a sun against the white washed world of Frostfall, and out I fly, my body left behind to deal with whatever happens. Me, I’m flying, I’m the crackle of a Spark leaping with aspirations to become a dragon. If I can wrestle her will from her for even just a few seconds, I can use her fire against her master. She’s the faster and stronger of the two, if Volterra’s golden dragon is a good reference.

Regardless, I’m thrown back into my physical form as I always am within seconds. The ice of the white wyvern’s breath has frozen the vines in the meantime, and they shatter when I bid my legs to move; blessedly, the gold’s flame has singed my hair, but mostly missed. My left hind leg doesn’t want to move, it’s too cold and sore, so I tuck it up as I escape, my back end almost hopping rightwards, muzzle tucking tight to my chest. I narrowly avoid what I will call a battering ram, the dark figure of the unicorn a freight train to my left.

Hoping to use this angle to my advantage, I jab quickly to the left with my horn, aiming for nothing in particular but hopeful that his charge will lead him into its striking range. As I pull away from the jab, I dart to the right, my bruised shoulder threatening to buckle, my superior speed dampened by my stiff and sore hind, attempting to make it some six yards to a grove, where his dragons will be hampered by trees, and his size may force him to rethink some of his usual tactics.

2/3 : 798 words


Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Time the Dice Queen Posts: 144
OOC Account atk: 50 | def: 50 | dam: 50
Mare :: Other :: 5'7 :: 22 HP: 5050 | Buff: DROPKICK
Time
#6
Abraham defaults to Rikyn.


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