the Rift


tinker tailor soldier sailor [tou v. elsa]

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind
#1
TOULOUSE
KNIVES OUT. CATCH THE MOUSE.

TAG
OUTFIT
Mithril Cloak
WORDS
768
NOTES
Below

If Toulouse, like the majority of his desert-born brethren, was gifted with an ichor filled with fire and a heart structured to withstand battle’s test of time, surely there was only place to test such remarkable attributes given to him by birthright. Some might say that the most unforgiving location in the entire continent of Helovia was the Heart, or even the largely inhabited island of the Dragon’s Throat. Though, in the phantom’s opinion, none would compare to the endless, teasing expanse that was the Halcyon flats with its ghostly white plane and endless mirage of undrinkable seawater.

As he tread past the first major puddle, he noticed a strange shimmer that lay within. It was not the kind that was reflected by the unforgiving sun above, nor by any movement of the water; something shiny and wonderful lay beneath the mirror. Boomslang, who's confidence grew day by day, slipped from his bonded’s crown, curling down his back in an attempt to retreat from whatever it might be - he was aware of predators just as he was prey.
Stopping with a thud of his diamond spiked hooves, Toulouse craned his neck downwards to peer into the shallow pool, having to squint so much against the reflected shine that he was almost closing his eyes. Reaching under and holding his breath, the gelding opened his maw to clasp whatever it was that glittered beneath.
From the mirror-like puddle he plucked the most decadent, shimmery cloth he’d ever seen - though, it was not cloth. There was something about this magnificent robe that called to him, whispered, and told him that there was far more than what met the eye. Instead of threads he saw minuscule links of an unknown metal; he certainly knew nothing of a metal that shone so brightly, nor any that were completely and utterly weightless. Continuing to scan the sheet with his awe inspired gaze, the phantom soon found it’s gilded collar and straps - it was a cloak. Without a second glance over his surroundings the gelding cast the luxurious white material over his back, covering the green snake that coiled upon it until he slithered out, taking his place once again upon the gelding’s bone-like horns. The strapping at the front took a long few attempts, though eventually he mangled to fasten them by craning his neck and fiddling with the straps between his lips and teeth.

Chest puffing with pride, Toulouse now felt more ready than ever to test himself. Now all he needed was an opponent.

Equipped with the newest addition to his armoury and arsenal, the phantom strode forth along the rim of the lake. His keen eyes searched the white, salty expanse for any passers by; any who might respond to the call of a challenge, though none were seen.
Stomping his spiked hoof in agitation, chops crushing together in a snarl, toulouse turned his cranium to look back the way he had come - and oh, how far he had come. He certainly had not made the trek from the north just for the view.

Though, when his crowned head turned back the other way his gaze fell upon a familiar figure. He knew not what she was doing, where she was headed, or even what kind of mood she was in; he did know that Elsa of the World’s Edge was a Captain - Musn’t she always be ready for a fight?
His mood shifting from one extreme to the next, Toulouse gleefully gave a cheer as his footfalls took him in the direction of the mare, only to stop at a distance of at least forty yards.
“Captain!” the phantom boomed over the flat expanse of salt, sand, and cracked earth. Perhaps it would have been more honourable to at least hint that he would launch at her, but no; surprise was a wonderful element to any attack.

Lowering his horns and expelling any air from his lungs with a great snort, Toulouse bowed to the dueller in preparation for his assault. His near-front hoof pressed off first, followed by a leap and a hop into gallop. Bounding ahead, spiked hooves digging at the ground with each step, Toulouse’s eyes were pinned upon one of his opponent’s least fleshy areas; her flanks and ribs. A whole tendril of horns was aimed in the captains direction, aimed particularly at the weak, stretchy area between her barrel and stifle. With a great grunt the gelding made his move from the ground by ramming like a bull and trying with all his might to hit the Captain on target.




Toulouse has found his Mithril cloak which is weightless and provides a small amount of protection from blows!

Attack No. 1/3
Setting; a big, flat, dry area in the flats
Summary; Toulouse finds his mithril cloak upon entry to the flats; he then goes looking for an opponent and spots @Elsa . He charges at her with his horns lowered (like a bull) and attempts to ram her in her near side flank!
damage; none yet
ISHY of thq, neverrmind + alsares-lynx.
I AM THE KEY TO THE LOCK IN YOUR HOUSE—
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—

EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS

SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#2
Time limit exceeded, Elsa defaults to Toulouse. Toulouse earns 0.5 VP.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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