the Rift

Hereby Condemned [SIKEAX CHALLENGE]

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
She watched and waited, knowing she would have to act soon. Every beat of her heart urged her to make this choice – to do something for once in her life. Aithniel felt the Sun God, whether or not he approved, and she had to make him proud. This strange water god showing up only hastened her emotions, urging her to make sure that the herd she called home was protected. Having children did that to a mind. Regardless of her nature for communal raising, she was responsible for them and their lives. Thus, she owed it to everyone to keep the herd safe.

Aithniel wasn’t Gaucho, and she knew she would never fill that place. But, at least she was a warrior. The Sun God ran in her veins, and she served long enough to know what is good and just in the world. She knew what it took for success, and frankly, this healer, wasn’t it. She had tried and failed – even gone so far to appoint an older mare as a spy who seemed only partially interested in the job. Aith knew of Ophelia, of her skill, but why were the ranks so empty? Where were the others? The healers?

They would need them soon – she felt it in her very bones. Nothing in Helovia stayed peaceful for long, and the patrols had all but stopped. She had no idea about the state of the keys- who had them or not. As far as she knew, Sikeax had never spoken to Ophelia about them, and far too many were getting in and out without access. Everything was messy, and if Gaucho’s leadership taught her one thing it was that chaos got you killed.

Even if she wasn’t the right person for the job, Aithniel would appoint someone who was. Sikeax seemed to have let leadership go to her head – perhaps blinded by power. The sun child would never let herself get so consumed, and if she did, she knew that Ampere, Tae and the others would hold her accountable just as she was doing now. This was her one shot, and she was taking it firmly and without hesitation. Everyone else would have to fall in line.

“Sikeax!” she bellowed, marching along the sands in the Dragon’s Throat. The cold air was chilling, but she had the fire in her soul to keep her warm. “I hereby condemn you by holy writ of the Sun God to step down. Should you fail to conform, I will take your crown by force.” There was no jest in her stony, silver eyes. No compassion. No mercy. Aithniel was the inquisitor. She was the be-all-end-all. Alpha and omega. Darkness and light.

And today was the day of judgment.

Image Credit

Dragon's Throat, midday in the winter - cold chill.
(0/4) - intro challenge
Challenging Sikeax for her rank as Sultana


But burn down our home
I won't leave alive

Please tag me in everything!

Sikeax the Sea Soul Posts: 355
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 hh :: 5 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Hobgoblin :: Common Rougarou :: Water & Seoul :: Plain White Dragon :: Toxic Breath Zuno
"I'm sorry but I'd rather be getting high than watching my family die"
Had this been any other time, then possibly Aithniel might have been greeted with something entirely different. A sense of passion, a desire to thrust her into battle so gallantly without even a second thought at the drive to show that Sikeax intended to take up her title as militarist Sultana with great will, at least the lingering feeling of hatred that had inhabited the dark, closed-off rooms of her head due to the mare’s treatment of her first child that Hobgoblin could have taken like a drug to urge her into battle.
But she is broken like glass, shattering further with each step because the Dragon’s Throat that she is being forced to lead is nothing near the one that she had loved so dearly. Friendly faces know looked upon her as if their eyes could open canyons in her.
She’s not their queen, and it’s obvious more now than ever it was. Aithniel’s voice drives the nail into the wood, a hammer that claims justice be weighed down atop her shoulders.
And yet where is the trial? Where are her accusations? What has she done wrong other than mourn with the herd, a basic thing that she is now denied while everyone around her does so?
“Stupid bird.”
Hobgoblin’s chiming does nothing to ease out the cold, stiff expression etched into the bones that sculpt her face. Glaciers fill up her eye sockets, tracing any motion that the winged mare makes as she wails useless words into the air that fall into the caves of her ears, empty.
We are no longer part of the Dragon’s Throat.
Nothing rolls out of her brother. Silence replaces itself with dread as she holds her ground with locked knees, drowning in the unsteadiness of his loss of vibrancy.
“I’ve failed.” Each syllable slips off of her tongue like she intends to feel some sort of sadness with it, but Sikeax has always been pure, been raw, been wild with her emotions, and there are no tears to accompany what she tries to perceive.
“I’ve failed in succumbing to what you want because you give me no obvious reason to step down. But you?”
Anticipation bubbles in the upper reaches of her rib cage, like smoke rising from a volcano against her spine as Hobgoblin hunts for a place to thrive in her, not exactly desperate but needy.
“You and this entire herd, you have failed Gaucho and the Sun God.”
Wildfire ignites. Searing hot passion courses in her veins like lava as a voice burns through her.
Has she not always been the one to take orders, so who is she to deny a simple request?

OOC: hardcore rushed oops.

Sikeax accepts the challenge and allows Aithniel to have the first attack. She's standing no more than 40ft from Aith and watching at the moment.
Attack: 0/4
Hobgoblin Form: Serval, standing off to the side.
Word Count: 451

also if you have any trouble reading this table or anything let me know so I can switch over to something else!



you were angels,
so much more than everything

:: please tag me
:: minor force and power play allowed

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
Perhaps if more than one face looked upon their failed queen with contempt, she should look upon this challenge as a statistical inevitability. With so many unhappy subjects, it was only a matter of time before someone rose up to take back the once-great mantle of Sultana. In the face of this hatred, wouldn’t she actually consider that she was the problem? That her failures were her ultimate undoing? Aithniel was simply the hand of the weary and angry, acting as a vessel to fulfill their desires, and she was honored to be the one to act.

Zerachiel stood firm by her side, the gold and white griffin nearly full grown and capable of wielding firepower which rivaled her own magic. His golden, hawk’s eyes and tufted ears were focused on their enemy, and with true purity, his righteous anger knew no personal slights. He was a tool and a weapon and bonded by soul and energy to his Aithniel - his dark light. She felt empowered by this bond to her bloody angel, glad to have him by her side.

Aithniel stood firm upon the sands of her father’s land, her toes churning in the earth where she was hatched. The sunlight beat down upon her pale back, giving her life and strength to do what she must despite the consequences of her actions. But, she was the judge, jury and executioner. Her counsel had already met, and she had passed judgment without an interview because some actions spoke much louder than flimsy, pathetic words. What good were the enemy’s pleas when her heart was deaf to their purpose?

But speak she did, and Aithniel raised a brow in amusement when she admitted to failure and then pulled a childish “failed to do what you want” as if a drum riff should follow her pointed statement. The sun child chuckled to herself, a brutal grin curving her dark lips as the girl continued to tell her that she was the one who failed Gaucho and the Sun God. She tossed her head back in mirth, black and gold mane billowing behind her neck.

“Funny, I just spoke with my father, the God of the Sun, and he said no such thing. In fact, he mentioned that he was proud of me. As for Gaucho…” she trailed, taking a lethal step forward with a grin more feral than excited. “He fucked twins into my womb which I birthed to carry on his name. I will avenge his legacy as the Sultan and promote his legacy through my very body.” Her lion tail whipped behind her hips, the long tassels shaking in the light breeze. Every nerve was alight with anticipation, singing that this was her destiny.

“So you see,” she trailed, her voice almost bored now as her expression returned to stone. “If there is a failure among the two of is, ‘tis not I. I was not the one who allowed another to steal from our noble herd by not promoting anyone to the ranks or organizing. While I have been watching the state of Helovia and the presence of a new god, where have you been? We have no healers. Ophelia had to fill in to protect us, and our warriors are thin and lazy. You are unfit to lead by virtue of your own failures.”

The demi-god’s ears flattened against her skull, ivory teeth bared. “I take this as your failure to conform, Sikeax, and I am pleased. Gaucho deserved for his vengeance to end in blood.”

Aithniel took another step forward and Zerachiel took flight, circling with talons extended and flames tickling the sharp tips. Aith expanded her gold banded wings and thrust her own body in the air, causing sand and dust to spiral in the vortex of the thrust. Once lifted by the wind, she summoned her magic and called forth the flames of her father, and with a thought, she sent a rail of flame toward where Sikeax stood.

Her soul was hungry for Sikeax’s pain, and she watched with narrowed, silver eyes to see if her attack would land. Failure was not an option. She would fight until her last breath, and she had never felt this drive before. This was pure passion fueled by righteousness. Aithniel was a holy warrior, and by her sword, she would bring justice. Zera joined in this song of fire, aiming his fury at the cat nearby with talons open wide. He swept down, attempting to grab the cat and burn its flesh with his magic.

Was this what the Sun God felt like? How did he resist setting the world on fire?

(1/4) (776 words)

Image Credit


But burn down our home
I won't leave alive

Please tag me in everything!

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
72 hours has passed. Sikeax defaults to Aithniel. Aithniel earns 0.5 VP.

Aithniel wins the challenge. Sikeax loses her title as Sultana. Aithniel earns title as Sultana.

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