the Rift


Invasion Round Two :: Cluster Three

Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#1
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.

Argetlam has been knocked out due to the player's request, those from his cluster assume dual characters aided in his fainting.

Ailith
Tharos
Apollo
Archibald
Midas
Kri

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
#2

Archibald was pleased with the fear that consumed AILITH’s amethyst eyes. Fear gave him power, power to tear down his opponent now. Loretta’s magic grasped the mare and made her falter, but the ability did not last as long as Archibald wanted, but he understood the nature of the ability compared to his companion. There was no way the ability could last any long length of time, for Loretta was just a dog, just as other opponents were just…simple creatures. Alas, Archibald was thankful for the strength she did possess, for it aided him greatly. In this battle, her magic helped his shoulder seek purchase on AILITH’s smaller body, sucking the air from her lungs. With one successful attack, the gears in the battle machine’s mind kept clicking, churning out ideas on how to strike her down. His feathered hoof missed her cannon by a few inches, grabbing air before falling back to the ground. His teeth, in such a glorious and redeeming fashion, ripped skin from her withers. The crimson, iron-filled liquid tasted sweet and familiar on his lips and the sight of it trickling down her body and staining her liquid gold coat gave him a great high.

The buckskin mare struck out with her own attack, but Archibald responded quickly. Pushing his forelegs off the ground, Archibald lifted himself into a low rear. When he had stopped and slammed himself into her, he had shifted his weight backwards in anticipation for his. Her attack was quick, and his reaction helped keep her bite small and less severe as his own attack on her. AILITH’s blunt teeth scraped the underside of his neck, surely leaving a bruise in their wake, but not breaking skin. The pain rippled down to his muscles, his mind doing all it could to push the sensation away. Archibald would not let the bite affect his performance, no, for it was merely a bee sting to the behemoth. AILITH moved quickly to his left side, her teeth striking for his unscathed hip. Snorting, the massive stallion shifts his weight again and lands his rear, throwing his weight to the left and upwards, hoping to slam the point of his hip into AILITH’s face and rattle her head. He had done so similarly when he was training against Locket. Locket had moved to attack the Dauntless’ hip and Archibald had countered by throwing his weight towards the Arabian and bucking out. Remembering the battle, the Dauntless smirked some, his words ringing true in his own ears now. Be ready for battle can call on us at any minute—this world is unpredictable. Archibald had spoken those words not thinking that he could be the one on the attacking lines. As he moved his weight now, just like in his training battle, Archibald felt AILITH’S teeth close in on his flesh, but his own movement caused the bite to lessen. Much like the bite on the underside of his neck, his hip tingled with pain from the mare’s blunt teeth, though no blood pooled from his body, unlike her.

AILITH moved away from Archibald, using her lither build to distance herself from him. Coward. She was built much like the mare Smoke, who Archibald had battled against in the past. Smoke and AILITH were both able to turn their bodies and move away quickly and gracefully. Archibald needed to bring her closer, and he decided instantaneously to use his most recent gift against her. Archibald turned then to face her. As he turned, she bucked out at him; however, her hooves clicked against nothing but air and his flicking tail, his hips moving out of the way with just a millisecond to save his rear from her strike. Simultaneously, the Dauntless released his magic on her. Once more, invisible tendrils gifted by the Gods sought to grip the mare. Archibald’s magic would harden her bones and expand them, hopefully slowing her down and making her motions painful for a short time. Focusing on pushing his magic into her, to keep it coming and not let it falter, he also worked to close the distance between them. AILITH had twisted her body and now the two were facing head-on again. With his ears pinned back and his chin tucked, Archibald hoped to drive himself parallel to her, on her right side. Tossing his weight forward and curling his head away to protect his face from her hooves, Archibald bucked and sent his massive rear hooves in an attempt to strike AILITH’s right front elbow.

The Dauntless could feel the earth growing warmer with each waking second. The dew was vanishing, giving the warriors a firmer stance, and he knew that by the end of this battle the warriors would feel the Tallsun heat and it would wear on them. For now, Archibald took solace in the cool aftermath of the night. Archibald wanted so much to feel this again, but not in battle. His body and mind longed for the mountains of his land, the land he had lived in longer than any of the Foothills members present, all combined. This was his home more than it was any of theirs, and today he was taking it back. Although he felt he had chosen his opponent wisely, he wished that AILITH’s buckskin form was Jackal’s red dun form, bleeding and reeling underneath his might.


[WC: 897 | Buffs: Endure and Swift | Magic: 1/2 | Companion: 1/2 | Attacking: AILITH | Defense:Rears to lessen the severity of her bite to his neck. Throws his body into her to lessen the severity of her hip bite. Ears pinned and head tucked away from her to protect his face. | Summary:He slams his body towards her when she bites his hip in an attempt to hurt her head/face/jaw. Archibald turns to face her and uses his bone-to-stone magic. He then runs at her in an attempt to get parallel to her on her right side. He then bucks, aiming his hooves for her right front legs, mostly near her elbow.]

ARCHIBALD
The world is a scary place
Now that you've woken up the demon in me

Image Credits


Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.


please tag me

Tharos Posts: 37
Banned atk: 5 | def: 8 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hands :: 9 years old HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Loon
#3

You're only North Star I would follow this far...



Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts

A shadow broke the sun-warming Tharos's back and he knew the pegasus that he had seen before was attacking him. As Tharos reared, the pegasus was there, legs flailing as he soared past. In an attempt to protect his head, the grullo draft ducked his head between his front legs and let the gold-tinted feather-brain rain blows against his muscular withers. When the attacks were made more damaging as the pegasus battered him with his armored wings and Tharos felt his hide begin to bleed as the blades cut into his skin. Still, he had more pressing matters to deal with that an overgrown bird battering against his sides. Apollo was making a charge with a horn that could gore him if Tharos didn't move.

Dropping to all fours, Tharos made to jump to the side, thanking his lucky stars he wasn't full-blooded draft and could count on the Arabian in his bloodline to lend him agility that any pure blooded draft, like Archibald, would not have. He managed to leap clear of the charge and wheeled about to make a charge of his own, aiming straight for APOLLO's horn. He snapped his teeth at the crystalline object, hoping to grip it like a bit across the gums at the corners of his mouth and if he was successful, he would jerk his head in a tilt to the right, snapping the sharp object in half like a twig. At the same time, he anchored his front legs to the ground and kicked out again, hoping to ward off any attacks from behind that the pegasus might try in an attempt to help APOLLO. All the while, the small cuts on his sides, that Tharos had written off unimportant at the time, were bleeding. They stained the dark grey with an even darker color and on his withers, purple bruises were forming, seen only by the bar of white that formed the splash across his withers and allowed him to be called a minimal tobiano.

Tharos was fighting with his life but he could feel himself beginning to weaken as his muscles screamed at him in protest of the pain he was putting them through by moving so much. Still, he refused to acknowledge that he was at a disadvantage. He may not have wings, or a horn to fight with, but by the gods, Tharos was going to make these two regret they had come here, even if he had to work himself into an early grave to do it. They would respect him when he was gone, if he had anything to say about it. Besides, he still had strength to give and it would take a lot more than a few bleeding cuts and some bruises to keep him down.

When Tharos landed, either with a piece of Apollo's horn or not, Tharos would turn around and spit at Apollo's feet, his sides heaving slightly as he caught his breath back and his silver-blue eyes, as unnerving as the eyes of his father (although in a much different shade), burned with a fierceness that was rarely found in equines. "What's yer name? I like ter remember my past opponents. An' you two definitely deserve my respect if'n you can do this ter me." He said, jerking his nose towards his ravaged sides. "Either that, er I'm jus' plum outta shape. I wouldn' doubt that though. Been a while since I've had a good tussle, y'see." Tharos said, pausing to talk as he held up a hoof as a way to signal a time-out. In all honesty, the grullo stud was trying to make it known that the three of them could be rivals, maybe good friends someday had they not met on the opposite side of a war. Even in battle, Tharos was still a good mannered stud and the owner of a heart of gold that his dam had taught him to have when he was young.

After a few huffs from the grullo, in which he waited for the two to reply to his questions and compliments, he lowered his hoof to the ground to signal time-in. At that moment, he half-reared onto his hooves and propelled himself into a full-body tackle. He was attempting to place his forehooves on the back of the unicorn and propel himself up still more into a much higher jump, using APOLLO as a stepping stool. All this was used as an attempt to snatch MIDAS out of midair where Tharos would slam the pegasus to the ground underneath him as Tharos would attempt to land on his hooves, optimally breaking a few of his opponents bones or at least driving the breath from his lungs. Should Tharos miss altogether, which was completely likely as sailing through the air was not his stronghold, Tharos would brace himself for a hard landing and rear back to land on his hind legs and then let his forelegs roll to the ground in a few cantering strides. He had seen some Pegasus's do this before when they landed and while he had no wings to control his fall, he still executed it to the best of his ability... regardless of how much poise he lacked while doing it.

876
Chaos Invasion
Defenses: Lowered his head to avoid injury to his cranium, but allowed Midas to strike at his withers and sides. Jumped to the side to avoid Apollo's charge altogether.
Attacks: Made to grab Apollo by the horn with his teeth and snap the end clean off. Then, using Apollo's back as a stepping stool, Tharos jumped high into the air to grab Midas and drag the pegasus to the ground by his weight. This was an attempt to ground-slam the airborn stallion and either a, drive the breath from his lungs, or b, break a wing or two. If he misses, he braces himself for a landing and makes to hit the ground running.
Injuries: Bruised withers and small cuts on his sides from Midas's hooves and armored wings.




Kri the Resolute Posts: 243
Hidden Account
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3hh :: 10 Buff: NUMB
Boom Boom!
#4

speak of all the love we lost and what it cost us</style>
left us to beg our breath would stop, but we kept on</style>
AND WE WERE STRONG.</style>

My wings buffet upward as I see the throwing of the ungraceful, untrained figure of the dapple stallion go backward. My front end lurches upward and my back end rises, hooves missing his figure entirely and teeth grasping on nothing but my lost hopes of hitting the bastard. My back end does not stop so quickly, pushing forward from the inertia with nothing to stop it, dragging me towards Argetlam even as I bade my body still with my mind. His hooves lash out, grappling with my back legs, but his small victory will not last long. My cannons may be scraped, lightly bruised and bleeding, but the pain is momentary for me. It is only a few brief seconds before other bodies collide with his and leave nothing but a lump of grey laying loosely upon the grass. My attack had served well as a distraction, and for that I was thankful.

At least I had not misjudged the ill-built stallion. He, after all, was the first to fall of the Foothills "troops". My head cranes upward as I hover above the broken body of the crafter, looking out toward the battlefield and looking for Jackal the King of Thieves. I had not been looking for him upon my surge into the lands, but now I wanted to see how the king was handling his warriors falling like leaves in autumn. Confused, my dark eyes pull up no familiar figure of the spotted red dun. My face contorts in an ugly light for a moment, for I have never encountered a leader who would abandon their troops in the midst of an invasion. My ears perk forward, my wings hold me easily, the wind lightly lapping at my face. Where is he?

Jackal the Cowardly. That is how I would remember him from this day onward. He is no leader. He is a dog with his tail tucked clean between his legs.

I have sympathy for the brave faces that come in the absence of their leader, but not enough to throw away my promises. I would fight until this battle was over. I would raise my head in victory, or at least be able to hold it high in pride. Even if I am to lose this battle, I can rest easy knowing that those who defeated me are strong enough to face the end of their home in the absence of a leader to rally behind. Every soul on this field was worth celebration, but only after our swords are lowered. Only then.

My dark eyes receive a glint from the sunlight as it reflects upon metal, and my face is drawn in the direction of my General, who looks to be accompanying an awkwardly moving stallion in the battle of a large draft. While I have every confidence in Midas, I wish to aid him in the protection of the one not so battle-savvy, and I fly onward with the sun lighting my back, filling me with a sense of warmth and confidence. A smirk grows on my face as I settle in, wings holding me steady above the clamor of bodies below, the sound of flesh on flesh, hooves clapping against the skin of others. The sound of battle like a drum beats in my ears. It is then that I see it, the monochromatic brute coming to a halt, one of his legs lifting, his mouth flopping open as his voice spills into the air. My ears flick back in stunned confusion, as I am honestly led to believe he is calling for a time out.

Fuck that.

I angle my wings downward, tugging the wind behind me to multiply my speed. It races in front of me like a cool wave, but my figure would be distorted by the sunlight anyway, only my shadow, which races along the ground painted bloody in the early light of the day, would be a good hint for my location unless this idiot likes blinding himself as a past time as well as trying to take pause in the middle of battle. I swoop down, my legs bent in readiness for a strong impact, and I aim to crash into the left side of THAROS as he stands with one leg up. I attempted to throw enough force behind my attack to knock the bitch clear over into the grass for being foolish enough to lower his guard in the middle of a battle. As my body nears his, I extend a neck outward toward the left side of his broad neck. "Times up," I coo in an unusually female way, even as my jaws continue to launch toward the flesh of his neck.
""

[ WC: 825; Magic: 0/4?
Wind magic in this post is passive.

Kri receives cuts on her back cannons from Argetlam. She flies over toward the Midas, Apollo, and Tharos fight. She dives downward to try and knock THAROS in the left side, an attempt to knock him over while his leg is raised, while simultaneously launching a bite at his neck. ]


KRI the RESOLUTE</style>
MY FRIENDS, I'M ONLY FLESH AND BONE, BUT I WON'T LET YOU DIE ALONE.</style>

image by vinothchandar @ flickr.com
Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel
#5
The sun was bright and ever rising, its crimson colors cast a suitable grim mood over the battlefield. Green grass and flowers had suddenly turned red by blood and light. No comfort for the weak, or patience for the ill-trained could be had. Everywhere one looked-- there was utter chaos. What had been a comfortable evening, was quickly turning into a blistering day that promised death. Honestly, I preferred the night and less death. But not everyone got what they wanted out of life.

Virginity had been lost, my sword like lashings had finally had their ravishing desire for battle answered. A most flavorful bouquet, hot and sticky—wetted the tips of my blades. It dripped toward an intent to water the grass below. This body still felt energized, sweat hadn’t even begun to form across my shoulders and neck…which meant that I wasn’t doing enough. I planned on rectifying this. Our heavy set opponent, the ‘mute’ Arabian had moved quicker than anticipated, and with surprising focus. The ‘flow’ or ‘focus’ was strong in warriors, we entered it for our own sanity and protection. It kept spirits from faltering when faced with impossible odds, and it gave a father strength to kill.


It was disappointing to know that he had noticed my dive and avoided a head hoof collision. To this I was surprised and moved spiritually to double my efforts. Bets would have landed him in a slower moving category, but apparently I mistook his size and underestimated his abilities. My attack wasn’t a total failure though, golden daggers had found something to hit. I had felt when each step scrapped along his spine/withers, and with every strike I was closer to home. Closer to leaving this battle and returning to Cera, and to Ktulu. I felt neither gladness nor anger, only focus to complete a personal goal.

Return to them alive.

Banking hard right I swirled midair with the sun now behind me. I was distanced from him enough to see hindquarters rise in what I guess was expectations that I would still be there. Wrong. His attack missed, and left me to wonder if perhaps my hoof had jarred his head a little after all. THAROS moved to attack APOLLO. My ebony neck stretched forward and wings thrust to launch me in for another aiding strike, and that was when THAROS decided to start talking. Talking. Yes, holding one leg up as if the gravity of his emotion would be enough to hold off the wolves. Foolish boy. Any lingering embers of respect I had for this crazed brute instantly cooled in my mental ash pit.

Infuriated by his flapping jaws amidst battle, I pulled up and hovered for a wingbeat, just in time to see KRI soaring in for an attack. As much as I would have liked to fill his words with sand, I decided on a different course and called on the earth shifting powers that had been recently discovered but not perfected weeks ago. Brows furrowed together and I forcefully slowed my breathing in order to concentrate on what lay beneath THAROS. Each plate, each sliver of earth could be felt and manipulated. If I could only cause a minor earthshake, coupled with KRI'S attack it held the possibility to send our dear little greenhorn reeling. I focused in on the area only THAROS'S hooves only, so that hopefully APOLLO and KRI wouldn’t be jarred by the gravity of this power.

After a few moments my powers waned, and with it a little piece of my strength that only time would heal. Another figure catches eye, a quarter horse who had been on the opposite side of this fray. An enemy, she seemed well handled by a rather large man. My lips parted into a wistful smile, my first instinct was to lend this brother a little aid while I was in the position to do so. This desire was followed. Around me little pieces of sand rose, three shapes formed; each fashioned to take the likeness of arrowheads that had been sharpened to a point. Propelling myself a little higher I send all three projectiles toward AILITH to aid the draft that appeared readily smashing her into fertilizer. The last of my magical energy was spent, and the full weight of my armor could be felt.

Word count:: 725

Buffs:: Endure

Magic:: (2,2)

Summary:: Flies over after attacking THAROS and sees KRI come in. MIDAS summons his earthquake magic to couple with KRI'S attack and hopefully send THAROS reeling. Notices ARCHIBALD and decides to offer him a little aid by sending sand projectiles at AILITH.

[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zola :: Black Cat :: None Sparrow
#6

"It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for;



Around them, the air was steadily growing warmer as the day progressed. The full light of day would soon be amongst them to truly display this event of carnage, and the heat of Tallsun would strain the warrior’s bodies even more. Either way, they still had a job to do, and Apollo would not back down until it was all over and done with. He had sworn fealty to the Grey, and he would not turn away from that promise now, not when they needed him. He knew that his brothers and sisters in arms would think the same.

Leaping forward, tucking his head close to help brace for impact should he hit, Apollo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He could see THAROS react, see him throw his bulk to the side, and when the healer sailed past without the jarring sensation that came with contact, Apollo knew that he had missed. Putting on the breaks, the black and white Paint once more pulled his rear haunches close to his body, tucking and sliding to a complete stop in the steadily drying grass.

Twisting his head, he was able to spot THAROS make a charge of his own, the grullo draft’s mouth snapping firmly towards his head. Apollo yanked back, but not before his horn was caught in the ensnaring maw of the larger brute. He grunted and stiffened all four legs, bracing himself for what might come. Fear trickled into his chest, for one wrong move and his neck could possibly snap… Yet it seemed that THAROS had other plans. The draft-mutt gave a jerk of his head, clearly trying to snap Apollo’s crystalline horn in two, but the sturdy appendage held. Instead, the overo gave a grunt of pain, his neck bending painfully to the side.

Oh, fuck this. Giving a furious snort, ears flat against his skull, Apollo braced himself and promptly yanked his head to the left, feeling the muscles in his neck pop and groan in protest. Oh, he would be sore tomorrow, that was for sure. The result, however, would hopefully be freedom; and with his ice-blue horn very much intact. Tossing his head and turning to face THAROS once more, Apollo was somewhat startled to see that he had paused to take a break. A break. What did he think this was? Playtime for foals? Deciding not to grace the older, perhaps senile stallion with his name or an answer of any kind, Apollo simply snorted once more. The grullo mutt’s words would soon be cut off anyway, for the beautiful fury that was the Sultana of the Dragon’s Throat soon joined them.

Muscles coiled once more, legs bending slightly as he prepared for another charge, yet THAROS seemed to beat him to the punch. The draft-mutt charged at him, and then promptly reared up. Where Apollo expected him to try and perhaps lash out with his fore-limbs, what happened next was completely and utterly dumbfounding. THAROS seemed to reach out, trying to brace his forehooves on Apollo’s back, to… What was he doing? Dear Holy Gods above… Was THAROS trying to mount him?! Panicking slightly, Apollo backpedaled, his hooves scrabbling for purchase on the slightly rocky terrain. His jerky movements and shuddering steps caused him to avoid THAROS’ attempt of using him as a mounting block… Or using him as a mare.

“What are you doing, you old coot?!” Apollo bellowed without meaning to, the words angry and offended. Not even bothering to wait for any kind of reply, Apollo went for an attack or two of his own. While THAROS was still close, Apollo gathered his weight towards the front of his body and dropped his head, collecting himself and twisting his hind-end towards the grullo mutt. The muscles in his neck protested at being clenched and used so cruelly, but the overo had other things on his mind. Giving a large snort, Apollo bucked out towards THAROS, aiming to crash his rear hooves into the exposed, left side of the mix-breed’s barrel. It would be winding, if it hit, not to mention painful and bruising and perhaps knock him off balance.

[Wordcount: 689. Attacking: THAROS.
Defense: Apollo rips his head away from THAROS to try and avoid his horn being broken, resulting in muscles pulled in his neck, and quickly backpedals the moment that he feels THAROS’ hooves upon his back to avoid being used as a stepping-stool.
Attack: While THAROS is still in range, Apollo tries to buck out at him and crash his hooves into the left side of his barrel.]



I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill."


Ailith Posts: 47
Deceased
Mare :: Equine :: 15.0 HH :: 8
Adoptable
#7

No matter what we breed, we are still made of greed
This is my kindom come, this is my kindom come



If this life were something to be admired, if rising from the ashes were something that she had aspired to do; this day would provide her such victories. Should she fall, she would get up. Should she cry out in pain; she would learn to wipe the tears from her eyes. If she looked into the light of life and found only darkness ahead; she would forge a flame of courage to guide her home. She was no Kri the Resolute or Archibald the Dauntless- but did it make her any less of a horse? Did she not fight with the same heart, strive with the same determination? One day her name would be remembered not for the victories she claimed in battle but because she’d endured those battles just the same. Maybe they didn’t require as much risk or consequently as much pain, but her war with life was only beginning and she wasn’t ready to watch it slip through her fingers.

Before her the world spread out into eternity. Every moment lengthened and stretched as if her eyes had begun to wander. The storm was upon them and as she watched it bore down upon her, she could not help but think that this was it- this was the moment she had been living for. Everything that she felt in her heart, everything that she’d kept in her mind- it was here. All of the worry and dread, all the sleepless nights that had led her to this day… the wait was finally over. The wind sang around her and the notes were a beautiful tune of sorrow. She knew that it would end here; she would fall before The Grey. Her body was not built to take this beating and yet she stood with just as much pride. The pain she felt was not for her disadvantage but instead for her humiliation. No lead stood to accompany her fleet and no one would be there when they left this land staggering and trying desperately to erase this day from their minds forever.

Suddenly she felt as if there was nothing left to do but let her heart take control where her mind had thought to stray. Like her herd, she no longer felt as if there were anything else to rely on. She was clearly outnumbered and there was certainly no hope, but she would endure this battle like she would endure the many that would soon follow. Her every attack was rebuked and her resolve was weakening… there was nothing left to do but to stand. She had to stand for everything she believed in and show them, those cowards, that they had no real strength, for it was only based on fabricated ties that would not last. “You cowards.” The utterance was low as she fell back into herself after ARCHIBALD had successfully evaded both of her assaults. She had only managed to scrape the surface of his skin as only an inexperienced fighter could do. What else could she do? They fought with no respect.

Her jowls had quivered shut with the impact of ARCHIBALD’S attempt to defend himself and her defiant cries were enough to bring songbirds down from the heavens to see her tears. Her second attempt to strike him from behind had failed as well and her eyes seemed to close in defeat. A soft voice whispered there, told her to stay so very still and so she listened. Her legs seemed to quiet beneath her and her heart seemed to slow its incessant beating within her chest. For a moment she believed that it had been her own conscience… but she had been all wrong. When her lavender gaze opened into the Warlord’s obvious endeavors, they hardened. Rage welled up within her chest as she watched him come closer, all power and might and no valid trace of compassion. Had these lands not once been his own? What glory would he have in taking them back only to live once more as a simple peasant?

On her right she felt his blow smatter against her tender flesh and once again she cried shamelessly at his hands. Her mouth hung wide as the air was sucked mercilessly from her lungs. Fear and anger followed soon after words of hatred filled her throat. “Perhaps Jackal had been right to dethrone you Dauntless, for your heart does not lie in the interest of your people. An absent lead is one far better than one that should be called a traitor.” With that, she swung away from him and circled around his haunches to come barreling up along his left side. Her teeth bore down hoping to catch the tender flesh once more, only this time there was no mercy behind her assault, no hope for understanding. However, the safe reminder that they were not alone came sailing from the skies. Her back took the brunt of MIDAS’ attack but her heart would not let her fail. She was in pain and knew that she could not win but she would not give up on this land like so many had done before her. This was her time to show them they the Foothills were not as weak as the Grey had formerly thought. This was her time to shine.

[Word Count: 889 | Attacking: Archibald | Summary: Ailith takes the blows from Archibald [like a champ!] and her jaw is jarred. She tries to fight his magic but it is useless and she takes his second attack to her legs, which knocks the wind out of her and she takes a long moment to endure the pain before moving to attack/bite his left side. She also endures Midas’ attack from the sky.
OOC| Not the best battle post I’ve ever written, I’d just like to fall in with a LITTLE dignity guys XD]



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