| Administrator |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
| Official |
02-27-2013, 07:53 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-27-2013, 07:55 PM by Official.)
You have 72 hours to respond to this round. Before the round is over, HERD LEADS can send cluster change request to the OFFICIAL account.
Further information can be found in the Detailed Rules under the Chaos Style invasion section.
Ariadne
Locket
Ktulu
Murdock
Birch
![[Image: wgui47.jpg]](http://i45.tinypic.com/wgui47.jpg)
She wears a coat of color, Loved by some,
Feared by others
THE BATTLE WAS TO BEGIN NOW. ARI'S MUSCLES RIPPLED OVER HER THICK COAT. DAPPLES DOTTING HER WINTER COAT AS IT SHED. CYAN ORBS SAW EVERYTHING CLEARLY. THEY HAD BEEN SEPARATED INTO CLUSTERS. IT LOOKED LIKE ARI AND THE UNICORN AGAINST KTULU, THE YOUNG AND BRAVE BRUTE, BIRCH, THE OLD TREE, MURDOCK, THE GLOW IN THE DARK PEGASUS. ARI AND THE CHESTNUT WOULD HAVE TO TRY HARD. ARI STEPPED OUT INFRONT OF LOCKET. SHE DIDN'T CARE THAT HE WAS A FOOTHILLS WARRIOR. HE DIDN'T KNOW ONE THING ABOUT BEING AN OUTCAST. IT SUCKED. ARI ON THE OTHER HAND, WAS AN OUTCAST, AND IT WAS TIME TO PROVE THAT SHE HAS WHAT IT TAKES TO BECOME A TRUE HEROINE WARRIOR. KTULU, THE BITCH, WOULD PAY. IF HER MISFITS WIN, THEY THROW FOALS AND HORSES THAT HAVE FORMED BONDS AND LOVE OUT. HAVE THEY NO SOUL? THAT STILL HAD TO BE DETERMINED. THE TREE WOULD BE EASIEST. BREAKE A COUPLE OF BRANCHES OF AND WATCH SAP OOZE OUT. SHE TARGETED HIM FIRST. NIMBLY, SHE SWERVED AROUND LOCKET AND WENT INTO FULL OUT GALLOP TOWARDS BIRCH. IN A FEW STRIDES SHE WAS INFRONT OF HIM. HER OPPERTUNITY CAME. TEARS WELLING BEHIND HER EYES. WAS SHE REALLY GOING TO MAKE IT OUT? THIS WAS WAR AND SHE MUST BE BRAVE, BUT SHE FELT TERRIBLE. SHE HAD A NAGGING FEELING THAT SHE WAS GOING TO DIE.
SHE LUNGED UP AND HIGH. SHE WAS TRYING TO JUMP OVER BIRCH'S HEAD AN SLAM HARD INTO HIS BRANCHES. MAYBE A FEW WOULD BREAK OFF. IF SHE SUCCSEFULLY FLEW OVER HIS HEAD, BUT BRANCHES DIDN'T BREAK AND SHE FELL, SHE WOULD BITE AND TRY RIPPING LEAVES OFF. NO MATTER WHAT SHE'D AIM TO BITE THE TREE. AFTER SHE LUNGED, SHE FELL ONTO THE GROUND, STILL UNSURE WHETHER HER ATTACK HAD DONE MUCH, SHE HOPS BACK ONTO FOUR STURDY LEGS. SHE STANDS WITH A LITTLE EXTRA SPACE BETWEEN ALL HER LEGS. IF SHE SPREAD THEM OUT A LITTLE MORE SHE COULDN'T BE KNOCKED AS EASILY. IF MURDOCK ATTACKED.. OR TRIED TO ATTACK FROM OVER HEAD SHE WOULD DUCK AND SHIFT AWAY. IF KTULU ATTACKED WITH THAT HORN OF HERS, SHE WOULD RECOIL AWAY FROM IT IN SHEAR EFFORT TO NOT GET SCRAPED. IF BIRCH ATTACKED SHE WOULD HAVE TO SPRINT AWAY.
EMOTIONS CHURNED IN HER VEINS. HER NOSTRILS FLARED AND GULPED FOR OXYGEN. HER MANE WAS WILD AND FREE. SHE TIGHTENED HER MUSCLES AND STIFFENED HER JOINTS. "'ocket." tHE FEMME MOUTHED THE WORDS AFTER GETTING HIS ATTENTION. GET THEM TIRED. THEY ARE SOME FUCKING EVIL BASTARDS. THE MARE HATED STALLIONS, AND IT WAS HARD FOR HER TO TRY TO DO TEAM WORK WITH THEM. NONE-THE-LESS. THIS WAS WAR.
"I will never crumble to you. You inferior shits will die gulping for enough air only to have you throats clogged with blood. Your wings will be torn off and used as reminders. Your tree, Zen Boy, will grow big and strong, in the ground when you are burryed alive. Your horn..." She looked at Ktulu the shadowy mare would pay. Hoping Locket wouldn't be hurt by these words. "..will serve as an amazing spear as we stab your misfits lifeless. This is W-A-R."
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OOC:
Gallops at Birch and tries lunging over his head and tries body slamming into his tree hopping to snap some branches off. If she successfully gets over his head, she will try everything to try biting his leaves off. When she lands on the ground (if the attack failed or not) she spreads her legs slightly and tries evening her weight to be secure in the ground.
-Gallops at Birch
-Tries lunging over his head
-if successful she bites for his leaves.
-When back n ground she finds optimum strength in how she stands.
| Windtossed Foothills Warrior |
| Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1 hh :: 84 Months |
| Adoptable |
He is not old. He is not the easy target. He is not Zen-Boy.
ARIADNE fears for her life and she is right to do so. The mare, significantly smaller than he and of a much lighter build, holds the advantage of speed and little else. But when he looks into her eyes with his own, blood-flecked orbs, he sees her hesitation. To him she is nothing but a weak young thing, seemingly inexperienced and certainly no threat. His nostrils flare to take in the warm air of a Tallsun morning and the scent of a battle. He sees ARIADNE foolishly galloping towards him; watches the twitching of muscles beneath the leopard spot skin covering her haunches. Even before her jump he is prepared.
There is a sort of spectacular beauty as the thin sunset of his coat catches the pink light of the sunrise in the foothills. He is backlit and powerful in all of his glory, building sound with every one of his motions. The short grasses beneath his hooves catch his feathers as if to pull him back to the earth and remind him of his home with the earth. The warmth of the air is a comfort to his thin coat, but unsettles his mind. His mind which is forever striving for cold and numbness; his heart which longs for a slowing beat and the cold, dark comfort of death. As his poll lifts above the bit, as his balance shifts and his lowered spine, strengthened from years of battle and careful balance, arches to finish the graceful line of his haunches, he lifts. The motion is slow and careful, but the move is polished and clean. As ARIADNE'S jump draws closer, he forces himself powerfully upwards from the earth and pushes through the air between them, quickly closing the gap. In the form of a low rear, Birch makes his defense. Her hooves strike his chest and he feels her crumble away from him like paper. The pain is dull, the bruises thick, but the injury no true hindrance. Her attempts to bite his leaves and trunk are fruitless; in the heat of Tallsun his lifeplant is robust and high-reaching. She would need wings to reach such a height.
With a shift as sudden as he can manage, his leftward turn draws the thick, nearly impenetrable trunk of his lifeplant to strike towards ARIADNE- she was foolish to attempt the jump, he thinks. Standing nearly two hands taller, with the thick form of a draft breed and the fearlessness of one longing for death, she had stood no chance. His branches stand too high above her, his confidence lifts him to heights far above her comprehension. He is certain of his motion, taking pride in his sharp mind and ruthless manner. His thick, sturdy legs, characteristic of his breed, reach out to strike. There is a flinch, a slow blink as the pain of her strike resonates within his chest, and then a flash as the metal of his boot catches the new-morning light. Each foreleg churns the air steadily, striking for her underbelly, reaching forward with a slow and steady force. Should his boot strike, the metal spikes could cut flesh and splatter the silver with that familiar, comfortable hue. Blood is kind to Birch; blood is the harbinger of death. Blood and cold.
The cold comes next. It comes as he withdraws from the attack and watches her own landing on four thin and steady legs. It comes with a low hum rumbling in his throat and a wave of cold wind catching the strands of his mane. From the simplest song any creature of nature has ever uttered, the storm of ice and snow arrives. Each flake is fast and biting, thick and falling frequently. The cold hits his thin coat and leaves him in cool comfort, easing the ache of his bruises and numbing the warrior's senses. Birch's hooves, hitting the green earth and finding comfort in its embrace, are his power- the metal boot his deadly cage. He stands solid a figure of power resting like the most regal of statues. His bloody eyes look through the snow and into the shadow of the low morning light. With careful steps backward from ARIADNE, he distances himself from war and falls into the numbness of his own magic. It takes no more than a change of pitch and a shift of focus, and suddenly the storm bursts outward in all directions with the same intensity. It reaches, as if with tendrils, for the eyes of ARIADNE and LOCKET- the lignea stands in the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by snow in the dead of Tallsun. He is serene, he is in control. He fears nothing; least of all the end.
[[ WC: 799 || MU: 1/2 || INJ: Chest bruises || SUM: He lifts himself into a low rear. He takes her forelegs to his chest when she jumps, but is too tall for her to go above him, particularly while he is in the rear. He turns to the left, hoping to strike her with the base of his tree, and kicks at her underbelly with his forehooves. He lowers back to the earth, takes several step backwards. He calls upon his magic and summons a snowstorm. The storm is concentrated and falling fast, cooling the air around Locket and Ariadne and hopefully hindering their vision. || N: none ]]
Birch. </style>
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| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
Slowly, distant shadowed shapes began to move into the field from the trees, curious and angry eyes staring out of the darkness at the band that massed at their borders. Herd members and outcasts alike began to group in the tall grasses, raised voices ringing out across the field as insults were exchanged. He pitied them, as he would be equally unhappy if his own home were to be torn away from him; however, his training had taught him not to let compassion cloud his judgment and he turned a blind eye to his emotions. He needed to stay focused and alert, for this battle would decide the fate of The Grey.
This would be his first time fighting against a ground-force, and he planned to use his wings to his advantage. Overhead, the clear pale sky was filling with colour, the red sun of dawn spilling bloody light across their backs as they faced the enemy. No leader emerged from their midst to face them, and the Foothill’s forces would likely be lost and disorganized without their commander. The Grey waited in silence as the four warriors of the Throat flew in, lead by Kri as they settled into the trees to await the start of the battle. A cool breeze swept through the grass, symbolizing the calm before the storm that was about to break loose.
Sharp war-cries rang through the thin air, suddenly announcing the beginning of battle as the two forces charged toward each other. Murdock wasted no time in taking to the skies, rising up above the noise and chaos to a safe vantage point. The air was light and cool, a gentle breeze skimming across his feathers as he soared toward the east. Adrenaline pumped through his blood as he neared the mass of the Foothill’s warriors, dropping lower toward them to seek out a suitable adversary. Emerald eyes scanned the mass of bodies below, struggling to distinguish friend from foe. This was not a simple spar, and survival was of the utmost importance; gaining the upper-hand was critical and he wasn’t about to let himself forget that.
He wanted to choose a target quickly, so he could strike while those on the ground were still lost in the fog of war. His gaze came to rest on a finely built Unicorn stallion, and he dropped lower to get a better look at the chestnut. He had the advantage of flight and size over LOCKET, but the deadly black horn that rose up from his forehead was not something Murdock wanted to get in the way of. His heart-beat quickened as he banked to the left, turning sharply through the air and lining himself up with the Unicorn’s left side.
Folding his wings against his sides, he allowed his body to plunge down toward the Unicorn, air hissing through his ears as he dropped rapidly toward the earth. The thrill of danger surged through his body, driving him forward as he aimed his chest for LOCKET’S left shoulder. If he was successful, the momentum of his dive combined with his weight would likely knock his opponent off balance, throwing him to the ground. Teeth were bared at the last second as the moment of potential impact approached, aiming a bite for the crest of the stallion’s neck. Regardless of the outcome of his attack, silver hooves reached for the grassy earth as he passed the chestnut, coming to rest on the ground once more to face his enemy.
(Summary: Attacking LOCKET. Murdock dives toward Locket, aiming to strike him in the left shoulder with his chest and knock him off balance. Aims a bite for his crest as well, before coming to rest on the ground.)
"talk talk talk"
Wind me up, put me down
Start me off and watch me go
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Image Credit
Ktulu the Constrictor Posts: 509
| Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 70.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
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Eytan :: Grizzly Bear :: Terrorize
ali |
Courage, Loyalty, Honor</style>
there's a brotherhood between us. if you're not ready to give up everything you've already lost.</style>
As the battle finally began it was Ariadnê that made the first move, her attack aimed for the biggest of Grey facing her. It was a move that was foolish at best, but it was the foolishness of mares and stallions like her that would cost them the Foothills and gain the Grey a new home. While Ariadnê launched her attack on Birch and he countered, Murdock targeted the stallion who introduced himself as 'ocket. Had the foolish Ariadnê kept her mouth shut Ktulu would not have chosen her as her target, but it seemed as though the mare liked to give speeches whenever the moment presented itself. Honestly, instead of worrying about how much she could frighten them she ought to worry about defending herself against those who were bigger and far more powerful.
Eytan, the growing grizzly, growled and bared sharp fangs at the mare as her rant turned to his bonded and her horn. At that moment Ktulu unleashed her magic in a wave that would be staggering to the older, smaller, mare. "I grow weary of your voice." Ktulu rumbled as her magic sought out the mare's lungs. ARIADNE might soon feel as if she were choking, suffocating, dying as she claimed the Grey's members would if her magic took full affect, which it usually did. "What makes the grass grow, Eytan?" Ktulu asked the grizzly as she concentrated her magic on the mare, whom she suspected would become as helpless as Birch had when she'd targeted him. The grizzly bear rumbled and Ktulu smiled. "Blood. Blood. Blood."
Without another spoken, or thought, command the grizzly launched himself at ARIADNE, his sharply clawed paws swiping toward the mare's right side and down toward her underbelly as he came closer. If she was fully entrenched in Ktulu's magic she would hopefully not be able to move away quickly and his strike would land true. Seconds later he tapped into his own ability an unleashed it at ARIADNE, in what some would consider a devastating double whammy. Flashes of what she would look like once the battle was over, beaten, bloody, dead, bones broken and jutting from torn skin, a skull that was bashed beyond recognition, would become startlingly real. It would last only seconds, but those seconds would probably feel like hours to someone who was thoroughly terrified. It all depended on if the foolish mare was scared to die on the battlefield.
It left Eytan to wonder as he projected the images. Who would not be scared to die.
Ktulu obviously trusted her warriors explicitly, to leave herself in a vulnerable position as she concentrated her magic on ARIADNE. She trusted Murdock to handle Locket and she trusted Birch to capitalize on the situation, should the chance, and she believed it had, arise. No mercy. She reminded herself as her magic began to recede, which was when she became aware of the snowstorm that had begun. With a quick glance at Birch she was knew it was coming from him and it was something she could use to her advantage.
Pale tail slapped against dark legs and muscles bunched before she launched herself at ARIADNE. Ktulu was able to use the snowstorm to her advantage due to the direction of the wind and the flurries. If ARIADNE remained where she was then Ktulu assumed that the snow would continue to blind her by getting in her eyes. It would help her to get close and deal whatever devastating blows she could to end the mare before the battle truly began.
Hooves thundered against the ground that was beginning to gather snow as Ktulu approached ARIADNE. Her head lowered, the muscles in her thick neck stiffened and tensed as she aimed to impale ARIADNE's chest. If ARIADNE moved, however, Ktulu would simply have to alter her course or even turn her head and keep her horn angled to attempt cutting the other mare.. Her Andalusian bloodlines would allow her the quick movement she needed to still land some sort of blow on her opponent unless her opponent was just as quick on her feet. A brown blur flashed through her line of sight as Eytan scrambled away from the two mares, his terrorizing magic since spent.
ooc://
[[WC: 709]] [[Summary: Uses strangling magic on Ariadne to shut her up as well as her somewhat helpless. While Ktulu is using her magic on Ariadne, Eytan charges and tries to claw her side and underbelly. He then uses his ability terrorize to show what he thinks she would be scared of. Her dead body once the battle is over. Ktulu releases her magic and charges at Ariadne, using the snowstorm as an advantage since Birch is aiming the snow at Ari's eyes. She lowers her head and targets Ariadne's chest. If she misses she plans to turn her head to try and cut Ari with her horn.]]
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CREDITS
Icon by Tay
| Up For Adoption atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 3 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: 7 HP: 60.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Teppei :: Giant Panda :: Stormcall
Adoptable |
It seemed he was the last to appear of the pitiful Foothills army that had showed up to protect their home. The emblazoned sun made his lids flicker more than they should, the Grey like an army of shadows ominously lined up to do battle. Locket wondered if it was easy for them to simply come and invade, they had little to lose except their lives and maybe pride. Not a home or a livelihood, a bond to a land that had slept in peace for a long time. Alabaster ears twitched as the time was now upon him, teeth grit as he mentally reached for his resolve. A warrior could fight two types of battles, one where he would face his adversary alone as he fought for his pride and dignity. For without those there could be no warrior. Two was in defence of loved ones, a home and friends who deserved his loyalty and solid protection. He had declared the Foothills his home upon invitation, now he fought to protect it. The dainty little soldier had a reason to go to battle.
The fighting ensued.
Locket soon found himself within a group, backed up only by an unknown equine mare whose name he didn't know. She stepped in front of him to the chagrin of the panda faced warrior, surely she did not intend to simply charge in without a simple thought on the matter. The unicorn watched her lithe form gallop off towards the weird looking tree horse and Locket's ears flattened, his heart racing in panic. "Wait! What are you doing?!" But his cry seemed to be in vain as the mare lunged for the tree horse who subsequently blocks. The chestnut stud was all set on rescuing his ally from her predicament when a movement caught his attention. It was a shadow caste from a winged horse.
Green eyes widened as he realized something or somebody was above him, white splashed face sharply looks upward in time for his heart to skip with danger approaching, the form of MURDOCK bulldozing straight towards him. Lost he had been in his panic for Ariadne, the little warrior only had enough time to quickly dance his lithe body sideways to the right and dodged the main force of the black stud's chest attack. He felt the brush of flesh against flesh, the minimal of touches on his shoulder, but the momentum MURDOCK carried was enough to throw him off balance for a few seconds. Teeth like daggers still finding some purchase on the crest of his neck, scraping like many small daggers that wounded Locket. With ears laced back the warrior tensed in pain, the cut was sharp and stinging with blood beginning to stain at orange fur. Unwelcome, minor damage, but better than a blow to the floor.
His opponent appeared to have retreated then, flying past Locket to settle back on the ground. In the far-off distance he could hear the cry of Ariadne who seemed to be trying to address him with words of warfare. Whilst he appreciated her effort, he was too engulfed in his own mini battle as it formed in front of him and he considered the black stud. Perfect, if I can keep him ground based I mig- tactical thoughts were cut off mid sentence as something cold rippled across his body. A snowflake turned into a blizzard and just like that his mind turned into chaos. Snow in summer?! Was this one of his enemies abilities?! Locket knew little of magic in Helovia only that some were in possession of it, including himself if only gifted to him by rank. The Arab fumbled around and muttered a series of curses as eyes squinted to try to see anything through the blanket of white that ensnared his vision. Something moved out there, he could hear the thunder of hooves through his personal mini blizzard. A temporary fear griped him and for a moment he felt completely helpless and at the mercy of the enemy. Curled tail had fallen rigid and Locket fought with himself, remembering his spar with Archibald. The former Chief's unrelenting attacks and the determination to win even though it was a simple spar. Locket visualized his teacher's face and let it fill him with determination.
Gaze was fixed on where he remembered MURDOCK had landed, his will gripped his magic and silently he raised one cloven hoof. Mind was focused on the direction he wanted to send it, Locket threw his right foreleg down with all his might. Letting go of the magic and allowed it to fill his hoof that struck the soggy looking earth under him with a mighty bang, he didn't know if his opponent had moved or in fact if the brute was advancing on him. The War Stomp shook the rolling greens of the Foothills in the vicinity that Locket had, a few seconds ago, seen MURDOCK. Locket dearly hoped his attack had struck true and unbalanced MURDOCK, back legs powered the front and Locket bravely charged forwards in the wake of his stomp, the lush summer ground giving him no challenges. His hope was to find Murdock, the warrior hated his impaired vision and as long as he couldn't see he was at a serious disadvantage.
The stinging pain on his neck becoming a constant nag on his mind.
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ooc ::
[WC: 897] [Magic use: 1/2] [Injury: Small scrape on his neck]
[Summary: Locket dodges Murdock's skydive manoeuvre by darting to the side, Murdock does make some small contact which has Locket off balance for a second. Murdock's bite also scrapes his crest. He is then engulfed by Birch's blizzard which impairs his vision and ability to see Murdock or any other adversary. He counters this by using War Stomp to try and unbalance Murdock to try give himself chance to gallop forwards and find him.]
Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
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Locket talk :: L = R
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Invasion Round One :: Cluster Three
