the Rift


[OPEN] See I Have To Burn Your Kingdom Down [Invasion]

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#1


Past, present and future clashed, combining, tearing, clawing and scratching into lost fixtures, empires and figures. An avid inferno of emotions brewed within Lena’s barrel, drowning under the aches and pains of frustration, agony, anxiety and apprehension. Loyalty, valor, mettle and courageousness covered the onslaught of terror rippling through her, the brutality carved within her, and the nefarious ends conjured amongst her veins. Pulled, pushed, and drawn into varying avenues, smothering her mind in the smoky clouds of savagery again and again, until her dedication, her perseverance, her tenacity and stalwart prowess covered the shaking in her pillars, the quivering trace in her limbs. She’d committed many errors in her fluttering moments of Helovian crusades, dancing under solemn noses, harboring too many secrets and sharing none of her own, but defending her herd had never been one of them. The shadows stalked their hides, clutched, snagged, grasped at their souls, stole children from their nests, and her heart couldn’t refuse the call to arms, the whisper of war drumming at her ears. The apocalyptic chains courted her to urgency, to disaster, to ruin, until it was the constant beat of her own music, her own tunes, her own vivid hums courting her vocals, attempting to soothe her own swift, birdlike motions. But what was worse? To sink deep into their mountainous chasm, hide and watch as more of their brethren were snatched from the edges of darkness, seized and coiled in chains? To simmer in the fathoms and depths of their desecration, to seethe and boil, grind and clench, concoct nothing but the idle longing for vengeance? Or to bleed for them, yearn for them; desire their safety in the cloaks of peril, in the choking, smoldering tendrils of conquest, of triumph, of sieges and assaults?

Her steps took her from the silent auroras, crossing over newly rich soil, prospering from the alteration of seasons despite the imminent darkness, until she ultimately traced enemy lines. The World’s Edge, abyss, fog and mystery, familiar cliff tops she’d strolled in suns and moons past, her first home, her journey from floret to undaunted, indomitable spirit. The tumultuous, shaky moments where she’d concocted her rudimentary battle, before the winter’s callous, cold-hearted temptations, before the monster roaring its heinous upheaval, before she’d waged valor into her lungs and audacity into her flesh. They’d lost its contents, pledged strength and pernicious scales to its den, felt the roughened rim of rancor and defeat. It’d etched hardiness in their bones, fed the armaments of their resolutions, and sown convictions into snow and ice. Here they were again, ghosting and coasting along the borders, struggling to catch a glimpse of tiny creatures pilfered from their family, immersed into the grandeur of pending, augured conflict and combat. She peered into the mist, and saw naught but the damnation of their foreboding onslaught. Imogen, bright, luminescent, stronger than even she, chirped at her side, murmured one word over their silent connection.

Brave.

Confidence invoked, the nymph’s noble head twisted towards the thickening haze, honeyed eyes sharpened, creased into daring, gallant threads. They were intrepid, they were bold, they were lionhearted, and perhaps The World’s Edge would remember the price of kindling a glacial kingdom.


[Setting: Early morning, misty/foggy. Edge borders, forest.
535 words. Lena awaits a defender.
0/4 invasion duel system. Time frame window to start an invasion or defense is until 8/18.
0 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. 0 companion used.]


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

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#2

SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

Stench, the stench of pine and snow, the threat or war in the air. Before pale eyes witnessed the approach of a foreign entity, the soft nostrils smelt them. Like maggots crawling from the grass. Sage felt the tenseness of war enter a friendly battle for a rank. This rank, it mattered little now that the world was shifting under her hooves.

As the pain tore into her chest, something else did not feel right. Unsettling, like a creeping shadow on an otherwise brilliantly sunny day. The chill along her spine foreboding, malicious, vicious. That is when she saw it - the flash of an unfamiliar body in the trees. Her head snaps to the side, kick landing in the soft loam without touching the soft flesh of a friend. Destrier, unlike these snakes in the bushes, he was still a friend. This fight was bigger than a title. Bigger than this opponent. The feeling reminding her of the first war upon these lands. Her lithe frame begins to turn in the direction of the bay body, when an emerald flash attacks her from above, shaking her neck forcefully, the mare hopes to dislodge the pesky thing, but not before taloned claws dig small scratches painfully into her neck.

Snorting, Sage continues to canter on, turning her head back toward the black stallion who rushes toward her now, face contorted into worried beauty. "INVADERS, DESTRIER!" His bite meets nothing but the flash of her tail in the moonlight as she pulls forward at full speed, his hooves striking but the empty space where she had been standing. The golden beauty had no way of knowing about Svetlana's retreat during the very same maneuver, but if she had, the belle might have laughed mightily at the coincidence. Perhaps, this laugh would have been one of the few blessing this day; unfortunately, the hope for laughter ended here.

For now, only a steely glint usurped her view as her mind shifted from the glory of a new title to the distinct need to protect her home, her kin. Teal eyes narrow into small slits as she gazes for the phantom body in the starry mists. The soft loam and dense air silenced the sound of walking hooves, dimming her own approach. It is only by luck that Sage meets the vision of Lena, a black horn happening to glint against the silver light of the moon. Dancing between the trees, Sage feels the branches reach for her, but allowing her well versed knowledge of the forest to guide her. She had been gone a long time, though, and a few moments brought her unfortunately close to the trunk of a tree.

Sage rushes from behind the heart shaped bottom of an unfamiliar bay mare, her coat thick from the living in the clutches of the north. The gold's own body toned and lithe from the months of travel, years of battle, and now a momentous amount of courage. Knowing her right side to be significantly more battered, the mare twisted herself toward the right, aiming to keep her injured ribs far out of the reach of this vixen. From the slipshod estimate, the mare is shorter but of the same body build; the presence of a kitsune goes entirely unnoticed. The distance is eaten up by rushing hooves, and when the pegasus believes she is within range, the plan for her attack is set in motion.

Unlike with Destrier, a body slam would still be effective.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Sage tosses her left shoulder toward the sensitive bend where the ribs meet the elbow of Lena's right side, pulling a move straight from Destrier's book and trying to injure the sensitive area. To distract from a slice of the gleaming horn she had viewed earlier, the beauty sends a gnarly bite toward her face, ears pinned all the way back on her skull. Upon her face, the normally sweet innocent exterior is torn into such an expression that reads very clearly:
Get the fuck out of my home.

[ WC: 683; 1/4. ]


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#3


Lena hoped the mist and shadows hid her trembling legs, her restless, anxious heart fluttering wildly within her chest. Confidence spurned and invoked, convictions composed from purpose, from decree, from oaths and protection, then spinning close to a standstill, where nerves ate at her flesh, tore against her innards. Perhaps it was the waiting, the inevitable beasts lurking amidst the abyss, causing her perseverance to shrivel and decay, igniting the infernal apprehension still coiled in her being. Imogen chirped once, a hopeful, delightful sound in the silent void, the pressing, eerie cataclysm they’d gone to kindle and instigate. One quavering breath shuddered through her lungs, cracked and withered across her mouth, and she attempted to reawaken the savagery, the ferocity boiling beneath her sinew; rage at stolen comrades, children snagged from their mother’s sides, the preying ghosts stretching their fingers, desperately trying to snag more and more of their souls until there was nothing left within the Basin but an aching, cold chasm. Brutality bloomed again, rustled and rankled ferocity, and narrowed eyes searched the vacant forest, ears shifted to encompass the sounds and secrets nestled in the thick haze.

Imogen was the first to detect another’s presence, senses far more heightened than Lena’s, capturing the beat of wings amongst the crowded copse, answering the hushed drumbeat of war, driving behind the Nurse’s sienna figurine for a vicious assault. Through their connected minds, where she had once delivered reassurance, she now conveyed awareness, short snippets determining Lena’s course of action. Behind. Right. As Imogen shifted away, the nymph was prompted into action, ushered into defense, into siege, into the quick play of warrior prowess, into mastering machinations usually foreign, usually unfamiliar. But she remembered the monsters, the prior invasion, conjured the ardor she’d formulated then, and concocted the steady composure of her rare heathen tendencies. One word jumbled from her membrane and into Imogen’s. Hide. She didn’t want the fox seen, not now, not when she too could become a victim of these foreshadowed strikes (the memory of her body mottled, covered, stained in blood at the hand of a behemoth struck in her eyes and tossed fire into her ichor). The kitsune complied, settling her small body in mist, gloom and bushes.

Thereafter, close proximity in constant dusk and abyss was perhaps the only blessing the songbird could grasp. The other mare’s form lowered itself next to Lena’s right side - in response the sylph shifted forward in a rapid motion, and instead of her elbow becoming impaired and hindered, she felt the Pegasus’s shoulder bump into her right haunch. It was a rankling jar, rattling through her hind limbs, the steady reminder her sentiments and hopes were not without pain, not without rancor. But there wasn’t any time to reflect, to pause and ruminate over the matter of her wounded, aching muscles, or the physique or proportions of her opponent, for nearing her face was the biting, scraping teeth of the mare. Having moved forward enough in her prior action, the rasping ivories only met the right side of her nape, grating against pelt and mane, tearing off hair.

But here was the opportunity she needed – and with a flying figure for a nemesis, one didn’t know when another chance would occur – to unleash her own assailment. Twisting her aching neck back towards the passing creature, she aimed to drag, lacerate, and grind her horn across the left side of the beast (perhaps by the shoulder, or the beginning of her barrel?). Did this make her part of the infidels again, marching into villainy, into violence and immorality, to justify her rationale, to steel her emotions out of the clambering, fearful frenzy, and into the turbulent shade of vengeance?


[621 words.
1/4 invasion duel system.
0 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. 0 companion used.
Imogen senses Sage’s appearance from the behind, warns Lena and hides in the mist. Lena moves forward to avoid the hit on her right elbow, and instead takes it upon her right haunch. This movement also allows her to miss the teeth aimed at her face, and instead take it along the right side of her neck, tearing off tufts of hair. She uses the opportunity to twist her horn towards Sage’s passing left shoulder or beginning of her barrel.]


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

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#4

SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

Crash.
Shoulder of brilliant, burnished gold hitting the murky brown in this dull light. The force of her own body slamming into another wracking through all limbs, causing a pang to shoot from her right side to where the muscles were already bruising. Still, there is no sense of hesitancy in the figure of Sage, pastel eyes grim and determined, glinting harshly in the light of the stars. As long as the Dragonheart breathed, this was her home. Sage would not lose. However, the girl would have to think quick and cleverly. In order to keep herself from damaging her own figure, the pegasus allows her figure to be thrown back by the force expounded from Lena's own body, neck winding left far enough to grasp onto hair before she is tossed back toward her right.

Wings rush upward, heaven sent, for one fleeting moment before she evens out her balance, their positioning now awkwardly hoisted from her shoulders, wing tips curved back down toward the ground.
Legs collide with the ground, another jar of her beautiful figure, ivory tendrils slipping through the air with graceful whistles. All of her girlishly delightful appearances were not helpful here, and so the facade of an innocent looked misplaced, especially with the twisted expression of one so pissed off.

More so than the flash of ebony in the light of the moon, a looming shadow of a tree ahead of the mare causes Sage to ride the flow of her body right, hooves crushing into the dirt, twisting further right, until her left haunch was a small distance off from where Sage remembered seeing the brawny shoulder of Lena in the night. If only these woods were lighted as well as the clearings filled with flowers, it would be easier to make a sure aim. The little pull forward, mostly headed off by a jerk toward the right, results in the tip of Lena's horn slicing minimally upon the broad barrel of the golden beauty, just behind her left shoulder. As if the burnished metal had somehow rusted, crimson pours unto the bright coat, almost painlessly for one breathless moment. Upon her exhale, Sage feels the sting of the thin slice as cool air rushes into the opened flesh, not a serious wound, but one that was bloody painful.

"Bitch," the warrior grunts under her breath in an exhale, even as her back hooves lift off the ground, aiming low for the upper legs or underbelly of this horrid mare's right side. The attack is reactionary and violent, her hooves offer little mercy to whatever fell within their range - hair, flesh, even air... That's right - even the air would be sorry.

Not wanting the rest of her left side to be a permanent target for the sharpened tip of the black sword, as soon as her hooves jet back to the earth, Sage pivots her body right, wanting to get away from the pointed weapon. Moving herself into better position, Sage places the more shapely rump in the "danger zone", as the thick flesh would be less open to perilous wounds. Flashing one swift, deterrent kick toward the area Sage believed Lena's head to be, she tries to push away away, out of the area where the brutal instrument would reach her. With any luck at all (not likely in the god forsaken endless night from hell) she would be able to put distance between them without additional... slices.

Madryn and Maskan were right. She had chosen the perfect time to return.

[ WC: 595; 2/4.
I wanted to come off absent last night to reply to this, but was braindead and kooky after a day of moving.... so I figured a nights sleep would aid us both.
Sorry for the small delay<3 ]


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#5


Lena’s devotion to her kingdom meant she’d throw her heart over the moon, over the sea, and over the dirges of battlefields to ensure their safety, their perseverance, their security; even if she couldn’t render her emotions past the fleeting tirades of anxiety and courage boiling together in a mass of confliction and contradiction. She remembered trials and tribulations calling for her audacity, harking for her upheaval, for moments of whimsies and fancies to be shed for the hard, arduous skin of barbarity. The first invasion, where they scrambled for the same land she scarred now, the monsters, where the threatening plunge of behemoth breaths pledged to devour – and here she was again, battered against the armaments of terror, horror, and ferocity. She’d been asked to either tremble in fear, lost and forlorn in the din of conflict, or to unite in one vicious, heinous crusade, bring back those torn away from them. The nymph responded to the second in a silent, unsung song of valor, honor and love. She was being paid for it with malice and menace.

Granted the brief, rare opportunity amongst mist, trees and darkness, she noted the other mare’s appearance at their fleeting proximity, close in height, composition and shape, without wings and horns they could be lithe laurels in the glade, dancing to the drumbeats and trumpets of campaigns. A slam by either would make no difference; other methods would have to be obtained, rendered, and hopefully not sullied by her counterpart. Her short notes were discarded as Sage’s landing prompted an assailment, flying hind hooves surging for precious limbs and parts. Lena swiftly swung her front end left, not wishing disaster upon herself, but still faltered when she felt hooves connect in bruising, cumbersome snaps of pain upon her right haunch. The hind smarted, already marked by an earlier assault, and she felt all the torrents of her aches culminate in that one spot, tense, rigid, blunt, muscles irked and irritated. She was momentarily saved from the mare’s next onslaught, Sage’s pivot towards the right and subsequent kick towards her head already chiseled away by her shift to the left.

The flying daggers towards her face, the crude remark cast upon her soul, emboldened her again, hastened her sentiments into those darkening threads, where the writhing savagery bit into her essence and cast them aloft for all the world to see. Lena used the darkness, the shade, the gloom, to hide her tyranny, her loathing, her contempt, to veil her soul in mist and abyss, covert cloak and daggers in the infernal reverie and rapture of copses, slipping into the void. Movements were not as sharp, not as quick as before, but would hopefully be enough within the fog, the murk, the gloaming, to mark and mold her own calculating, audacious surprise. Over rock, root, tree, the fairy tried to disappear into once protective elements, sheltering boughs, towering oaks, wondering if they’d do the same for her now.

One clear message was sent to Imogen, the ivory kitsune tucked into the bushes, eagerly waiting her moment to brutalize the creature harming her beloved. Distract. And oh, how she would, she promised deep in the chasm of her furry body, slinking into the mists, searching for their sole opponent. When she was found, the foxy, cunning beast launched towards the right portion of the Pegasus’s chest, ivories unfurled, teeth reaching for the precious flesh, claws aiming to dig and scar and tear, fierce, feral, intense, and relentless. Using the moment to her advantage, Lena dissolved from the haze, appearing at Sage’s left, brandishing her best weapon, the curved, beautiful, dark sword adorning her cranium, aiming to unleash, pierce, puncture the adversary’s flank.


[618 words.
2/4 invasion duel system.
0 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. 1/2 companion used.
As Sage kicks towards her underbelly and upper legs, Lena serves to the left, feeling the hooves strike her right haunch again. Her movement to the left prevents the kick towards her head from coming into contact with anything.

For her own assault, Lena moves into the mist to appear from a new direction. She uses Imogen, who comes towards Sage’s right portion of chest to bite and tear, as a distraction, appearing at Sage’s left and attempting to drive her sword into her left flank.]


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

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#6

SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

Almost as though her kick had blown away a phantom into the mists, Lena disappeared from all Sage's senses. Without hastened steps, the girl's whereabouts slid into the dark abyss of the World's Edge lit only in shining silver light from the mists of stars and the weeping moon above, no sound to betray her location. An ear cocks uneasily as the golden mare swivels about, teal eyes scouring the familiar terrain for any sign of the dark unicorn in the night. The lady's voice peeks out from her lips in taunting words, smooth as a kitten's purr. "Here, kitty kitty," she calls into the mists of the air, feeling the cold settle into her aches and joints, as well as the areas lathered with a fresh layer of sweat.

Nothing but the silence and the melancholy whine of wind through the trees answers her... until, of course, the mongrel jumps from the shadows.

Not having noticed the presence of the fox-like creature from the beginning, Sage is caught completely off guard by its sudden appearance. Unhindered, the small creature leaps and latches onto her chest, teeth sinking in to leave the taste of blood upon the golden coat, small tears forming in the flesh, claws not sharp enough to do more than annoy the mare. Surprised, the golden mare lets out an effeminate squeal in unexpected pain, front end lifting up in a rear, front legs thrashing at the open air and seeking out the figure of her unknown attacker, unable to see the beast under her neck. Never before had Sage felt trapped by the branches of the World's Edge, but now she wished nothing more than to soar into open skies above, the wind moaning once more to remind her of its existence above the complex of shadows. The silver lights in the mist remind the girl that this is still her home, though, and for that, she would fight endlessly - even against foes using the terrain to their best advantage. Cowardice, she would call it, but perhaps it was the smart thing to be doing.

Hooves land on the ground and she begins to push forward, expecting an assault from the bay mare to follow this savagery. First her jaw curves downward, teeth seeking the scruff of the little monster, attempting to clamp down upon it and toss the brat into a nearby tree. Whatever purpose the kitsune had attacked with, it served, for Lena's sudden lurch from the shadows cannot be blocked completely, despite the beauty's suspicion. The villainy of it all makes Sage scowl in the darkness, but she continues to jet forward at the first touch of the black blade. A thick gash settles in first on her left hip and traveling across the flank, over the bruise from an earlier bite, until it breaks away at the tail. More blood decorates the golden pelt, strawberry champagne in the light of the moon, and stinging like alcohol had been poured in the cut as well. Lovely. The pegasus takes this as an opportunity to flare her wings, drop her weight to her front end, and send a powerful kick toward the right shoulder of Lena that should be within her range if the mare continued to run as expected. If not, her skull would work just as well.

Sage is not done yet. If one pair can use the shadows, so can she. Back hooves gracing the loam of the forest, Sage takes the momentary distraction that should be allowed from her kick to weave between the trees. Hoof beats quieted by the soft mosses, the mists above, and the darkness guarding her intents. A soft trot is taken, finding herself dancing about the area she had left, making a half-circle about the forest to try and bring herself toward the back end of Lena, eyes gleaming in silver light during breaks in the shadow.

Then, she lunges, finding an almost direct path through the forests toward the small area where they had been fighting, weaving a couple of times to avoid the branches of trees, feathers brushing against the air, the winds, wings whistling as they begin to flap, not able to be fully extended without bristling against the bark, but that did not matter. Sage tries to draw close to the left side of Lena, preparing to leave about eight feet between the pair before she leaps, shoving her wings down with a final push, front legs extended toward the bay mare's right flank. With any luck, she may be able to knock the girl down or at least ruin her balance. Wings beat carefully, attempting to keep her high enough aloft to sail over, regardless of the outcome.

Surprise.

[ WC: 794; 3/4.
I WAS JUST GOING TO ADD ONE MORE ATTACK AND THEN IDK IT EXPANDED SO RAPIDLY. ]


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#7


Imogen and Lena were alike in many regards, but in this instance, it was her lack of pleading for help, for healing, for soothing balms against the intense force descending upon her small form. She, as both so often did, suffered in silence. The indignation of the Pegasus hit the ivory kitsune, teeth ensnared over her lithe, tender frame, the rapid toss, and the feeling of the immobile tree as she impacted its trunk caused the briefest whine, before a chilling, haunting reverberation of quietude. Lena wasn’t permitted an opportunity to be content in her successful attack, because dread, guilt, and anxiety suddenly flooded her system, her core, her soul, and the notion of being bereft, of being alone, of prompting this painful mishap rendered her nearly motionless.

Sage’s reactions were enough to drive her from the numb sensations, survival brimming in the nymph’s mind, swerving left to avoid the massive impact of hooves against shoulder, and still it was nicked with a shining, blinding pain contorting along her muscle. Dazed, stunned, reeling from no connection to her beloved, she tried to briefly turn her eyes towards the creature lying in the mist, her soft, dulcet connection hazed, distant. Imogen? No response but the merest flicker of life ghosted over their shared devotion, an unconscious trail of conviction humming into assurance. Alive, but not well, not whole, not thriving, and she, once sylph, once divine and virtuous, with her bold endeavors, with her hopes, dreams and loyalties, had caused this. If she were not in battle, she would have stumbled to her knees, begged forgiveness from a creature whose dedication, commitment and love had earned her naught but deadly bombardments.

The Pegasus glided near her now, towards her left, wings like wraiths in the mist, specters in the abyss, and in her senseless state she thought to move, she thought to cling, endure, persevere. She dove towards the right, felt the burning segments of her haunches, muscles simmering, seething from the shift of weight, from their pummeled stature of prior assaults, and still bore the scorching distinction of her hind being struck. The motion sent her off-balance, staggering a few steps to the left, and only the shallow breath of her anguish, of her torment, was released into the air. Suddenly, without further notion, without reeling, without machinations -

She awakened.

Sparked, she burst into flames, provoked, kindled and ignited, incensed and maligned, she became the beast hidden deep in the darkest pulse of her veins, hidden, covert, and clandestine. The shadows fluttered over her heart, anger, wrath, ire and rage washed over her mind, pricked against her sentiments until the art of tenderness, compassion and empathy vanished, flooded, pervaded, consumed by the ferocity of her blistering, searing contempt. It stung, trembled and coated her cranium until there was nothing but the blistering weight of hate resting across her shoulders, her figure, her restless ardor. Loathing for Imogen, who had followed orders, who had done nothing but love her, follow her, abhorrence for the stolen children, absconded and dragged from a world constantly instigated, and finally, for once, committing a selfish pledge for herself, to forever fighting for a herd failing to recognize her aspirations, ignoring her loyalties, her passions for their safety, sanctity and glory.

Nymph lacquered into cretin and infidel, cast one stare devoid of warmth, empty of kindness, amiability, frigid and cold, towards Sage, before conducting and composing a short song, made for her pained soul, for her companion laying on the forest floor, as she forced, swung, her body to comply to her fury.

“Heart in your hand,
You were a savior across the land.
Struck down,
Breathe again.”


The amber glow of her brief sonnet flickered, varnished her muscles, prospered the sanctity of smooth healing, and she felt it trickle, echo, towards Imogen, for without the sun, its powers were feeble, weakened, delicate –

Then unleashed the torrent of her vexation, a storm, a phantom, a predator in the fog, chasing down the bitter trail of her enemy. Charging towards Sage’s right, she raised her sword, brandished the rapier as an incensed militant aiming for the kill, intending to reach out to the floating Pegasus, stab and lacerate the Pegasus’s right side of her barrel, to malign, to assault, to cause unwinding pain. In her unfurled apathy, in her caustic, callous emotions, she wanted her opponent burdened, besieged, hurt, crippled upon the dark floor. Thereafter, she shifted towards the right, pivoted so that her hind hooves could possibly connect to the mare’s side (right haunches, should her movement follow through its usual motions, should she falter from her current height?); invoking the clamorous din of her seething torrent and torment.


[784 words.
3/4 invasion duel system.
1 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. 1/2 companion used.
Imogen is flung into a tree and rendered unconscious.

Lena attempts to avoid Sage’s kick towards her right shoulder by swerving left, but is still nicked and bruised on the shoulder. Seeing Sage coming towards her left, Lena shifts right, despite the terrible ache in that side, and is nicked once more on the right haunches, staggering a few steps to the left due to the force of the attack.

Fueled by rage, Lena composes a short song to heal herself and Imogen. The healing is minor, but allows her movement to be contrived without blinding pain. She then charges towards Sage’s right, and despite the Pegasus’s hovering, she attempts to puncture the right side of her barrel. Hoping to burden her opponent further, she then twists towards the right, pivoting and kicking out, hoping her hooves will connect to the mare’s right haunches.]


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

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#8

SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

Air brushing tendils of silver, a body garnished with the finest shades of gold. A graceful arch, despite the pain radiating from her shoulders and ass, the pristine face of a woman contorted with such careful concentration. Her hooves pound upon the left side of Lena, still moving, watching as her body scours away. A triumphant smile replaces the grimace on Sage's face, relieving the tension of the features, returning a pure innocence, sweet as sugar.

The reverberations in the golden beauty's own body are stifled by the ease of which Lena moves away, though it is by luck that the mare manages to clear the bay's body, for she had not been soaring very high above. Flints meet with the soft loam of the forest, the mist splashing twinkling starlight like waves in the ocean, back hooves connecting for a brief moment before they flash out violently toward the mare's right side. Unaware of the song or the stare until the vocals begin, perhaps Lena's distracted state will work in her favor.

The silver bells of the song make the mare turn to face her opponent, seeing the fury behind dark, feminine features. The beauty does not understand, for she has never had a companion, had never really thought of the creatures following the equids as anything abnormal. Even Akaith, Mirage's loyal friend, did not strike her as being connected through any unconventional means. The Dragonheart was a noble creature, so of course a golden dragon would reside with her. Any idea of upsetting a soul bound to another was not present, so the bay mare's sudden anguish was met with nothing but a coy smile.
You asked for it, bitch.

Pain radiates from her hip as she lands, as well as her shoulders, feeling the weight of battle upon her frame. The fight with Destrier for his rank could wait, but when the World's Edge survived this, Sage would definitely pay the Moon Doctor a visit. As soon as she was done tossing this pony out on her ass, of course.

The sound of hoofbeats on her tail, the statuesque mare pushes through her pain, though it is not without an off-center gait that she does so. Heavily favoring her uninjured limbs, the normally graceful sprint is haphazard and awkward, but at least she will not be caught so easily now. "Let's play a game of cat and mouse," the golden beauty says with a smug smile under her breath. "I wonder just who is the cat."

Tilting her head slightly toward her right, the mare watches as Lena closes the space with much less drag on her body from previous injury, fueled by some sort of immortal hatred. As the horn becomes poised for stabbing games, Sage dodges toward the left, sailing easily behind the trunk of a tree. Her wing bristles against the rough bark, tugging a few feathers loose uncomfortably, but saving her from what would surely have been a mortal injury. Unhindered, a flash of gold between shadowy trunks, does not feel the battering of hooves sent too late, falling somewhere behind and lost in the mists.

Using her lithe, graceful build to her advantage, the golden mare slows, curving and weaving between tight ranked trees, rushing back in the direction where Lena had been, picking up more speed, nostrils flaring as her lungs pull desperately for much needed oxygen. Her heart pounds in her chest, pain coursing through her veins like fire, alighting her need to succeed. Rushing toward what looked like the exposed left side of the bay mare, Sage makes another small leap, her forehooves aimed toward the front of the barrel, toward the sensitive ribs, momentum being thrown forward with all of the weight and prowess the mare could manage.

"Leave before I crush in your skull, pretty," her voice is innocent and soft much like the pallid hue of her eyes, but with a powerful edge that suggests she is completely serious. You will have no victory here.

[ WC: 679; 4/4. ]


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#9


Drugged on abhorrence, dragged on by contempt, sinned and sinned against, she felt the sickening twist of her demonic yearnings, of wanting, wishing, hoping for her attacks to land, find purchase across flesh, muscle and sinew, subsequently derailed. The hate, the malice, the menace was intoxicating, scintillating, venomous, and as the opposing femme rushed into the mist, she nearly followed, chased, sought and hunted for the ferocity burning in her chest, in her lungs, in her heart. Instead of surviving, persevering and persisting in terror, she wanted to create it, invoke it, piece it together until the ravenous exploits of her wrath and rage erupted, one mighty inferno, into the fray; devouring, consuming, plucking the Pegasus mare until she was naught, no one, disappeared and destroyed in the mist. Unnatural, wicked and eerie, covering her movements in villainous haze, in hallucinating, distracting stigmas, she shifted, almost pursued like a predacious animal – but her mind, portions still remaining compassionate, coiled in warm machinations, remembered the beast laying in the bushes, surrendered to unconsciousness, still needing the nymph’s salvation. If she were to become a ghost in the abyss, who would protect the fallen creature? And if her enemy found Imogen, what would happen to the wonderful, fragile beast?

Lena strayed, stayed, and listened to the forest, trapping the sounds of wings brushing against boughs, of hooves knocking against roots, soil, fertile, fresh ground, and attempted to pinpoint the movements amongst the fog. Did the golden beast streak to the left? To the right? To the skies, gauging another moment to fall from the heavens and destroy her? Calculations were rendered moments later, a swift ascension of motion invoked in the copse towards her left – limbs, returning to their perilous wake in that brief, slender portion of pause, tried to scramble amongst the woodland floor. To the right, grasping, toying with earth, scrambling to swerve away from the perilous bounty of forceful hooves, and then the puncturing feeling of a treacherous injury averted, only to be pressed, crushing, blowing, elsewhere. Her ribs and barrel were not ignited, but her left flank burst with a heady, thwarting onslaught of pain, brought sparks and shimmers to her eyes, distorted the calamity of her ire with a breathless torrent of agony.

She gasped, stumbled to the right, choked for air to gather in her lungs, and blinked rapidly to stop the dizzying, diverting burning in her gaze. The sylph turned heathen had no music left in her soul, no song brimming and brewing in her chest, only raptorial splendor, wolfish, rapacious desires, nothing for a ditty, for an aria, for a healing balm, to cling to again. With no sun, no guidance, no light gazing down in some heavenly bounty, the nurse was bereft, enchantments entangled, shelved, coiled for another day. Her injuries, marked by deep bruises along her right haunch, shoulder (gifted with one perilous song to not be so overwhelming, so overbearing) and left flank, were not to be honored again with invocations and spells. She was left to her own devices, to the searing ruthlessness dancing an immoral waltz behind her essence, and resolved to continue the plague of her barbarity.

Her hind hooves, not fluidly, not effortlessly, still daunted, stiffened, terrorized by the sudden onslaught of torment, aimed towards the gilded warrior’s chest, along the left, where shoulder connected with broad mass. The darkening trace of her impassioned impulses flourished again, aspired and longed for the force of power to make its mark upon the enemy. Perhaps it would show that her efforts hadn’t been wasted, that Imogen’s selflessness hadn’t been for naught, that somehow, someway, they’d made a chasm in bedlam, remembered for their valor, for their bravery, for souls lost and begging to be taken back.


[627 words.
4/4 invasion duel system.
1 + 0/1 additional Basin champ magic used. 1/2 companion used.
As Sage comes towards Lena’s left, she attempts to dodge to the right. She manages to avoid having her ribs and barrel hit, but takes the force upon her left flank. Due to the broken magic, she cannot heal again, and decides, despite the burn and ache in her flank, to kick out towards the left hand side of Sage’s chest with a force ignited by loathing.

Thank you for the fight Boom! :D]


Lena</style>
where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @ flickr.com

Sage Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#10

SAGE
my sun sets to rise again.

Scurrying hooves attempt to find their way to a safe haven in the loam, but the bay is simply not fast enough to avoid the impact on her frame. A success, though Sage would have preferred to crack a rib and give that mare a piece of what she had coming. Infiltrating the borders of her beloved home, threatening the leadership of the most noble mare in Helovia, and allied with some sort of overgrown rat - this unicorn deserved more than a swollen bruise on her hip. Still, it is with pleasure that the gilded beauty hears the clap of hooves upon flesh, feels the jarring of her own thin body from the force of their meeting.

A tired smile, one followed by a loud, triumphant snort. Not very lady-like, but this cat fight had devolved into one of anger and brutality already. Oh, yes, had Sage a lovely dress, it would have already been torn at the thighs for better movement, a dolled up hair-style tossed apart in their efforts. She had gone from a classy champagne to a rather baudy ale, and it may even get worse before this is all over. Sage could almost hear Madryn's amused voice now: You look terrible.

Forehooves land on the ground, the impact furling up toward her injured shoulders. In order to minimize injuring her body further, the mare continues to press onward, allowing her momentum to continue forth. That is when the swirl of mists forewarns her of the flash of black legs. The warning cannot save her, and the hardened protector knows this already. Instead of trying to dodge toward her right, she throws her weight toward the left, minimizing the extension of Lena's legs and thereby cutting the force of the kick off at the neck. Wings rise up to avoid being crushed by less delicate limbs, and the impact of the legs falls right onto her ribs on her left side, shoving an unceremonious belch of air from her lungs. The maneuver saves her a great deal of pain, however, leaving behind a bruise above the ribs, but saving her from another bleeding wound.

One thing was certain, Sage has had enough cuts to last her another year.

[ WC: 374; closing defense.

Thanks, Heather! I had fun :D ]


Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#11

LENA | SAGE
- - - - -
By my verdict Lena is the winner.
Lena receives 1 VP and earns one point for the Basin attackers.


SAGE -- post 1 (attack only)

[Realism]
+ 1| Attack: Sage's left side into Lena's right
+ 1| Attack: Bite toward's Lena's face
+ 1| Previous Experience: Not even previous - literally just prior to, experience :P

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Flow.
+ 1| Easy Read.

LENA -- post 1

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Moving forward to try and avoid Sage's strike - taking the injury to her right hindquarter instead.
0| Injury: Bite to the neck - no mention of pain, only that hair was pulled out.
+ 1| Attack: Throwing her head up/back to gouge Sage's left side.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Flow.
+ 1| Easy Read.

SAGE -- post 2

[Realism]
- 1| Injury: I really struggled with this, but ultimately I don't think it's realistic. Lena's attack seems to follow right after Sage's teeth tear into her neck - she doesn't describe her needing to pursue Sage at all to make the attack. However your reply is written such that Sage has time to land, veer away from a tree, and contemplate the available light, before Lena's attack hits. I think it would have landed while Sage was still in the air/just as she landed, or not at all.
+ 1| Attack: Bucking towards Lena's right side
+ 1| Attack: Kicking out at Lena's face as she tries to put distance between them.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion: That's right - even the air would be sorry. lol.
+ 1| Flow.
+ 1| Easy Read

LENA -- post 2

[Realism]
+ 1| Injury: Sage's kick to Lena's right thigh
+ 1| Defense: Avoids Sage's later kick by having moved left.
+ 1| Attack: Imogen trying to bite/scratch the right side of Sage's chest
- 1| Borderline Powerplay: Lena dissolved from the haze, appearing at Sage’s left - this assumes that Sage hasn't vanished into thin air, or flown away .
+ 1| Attack: Horn attack to Sage's left side.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Easy Read: Best breed comparison ever!
Granted the brief, rare opportunity amongst mist, trees and darkness, she noted the other mare’s appearance at their fleeting proximity, close in height, composition and shape without wings and horns they could be lithe laurels in the glade, dancing to the drumbeats and trumpets of campaigns

+ 1| Flow.

SAGE -- post 3

[Realism]
+ 1| Injury: Imogen's attack to her chest
+ 1| Counter-attack: Rearing and thrashing her legs to get Imogen off.
+ 1| Attack: Bite at Imogen
+ 1| Injury: Lena's horn to Sage's left flank.
+ 1| Attack: Buck towards Lena's right shoulder
+ 1| Attack: Flying leap attack towards Lena's Left flank.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion:
+ 1| Flow.
- 1| Easy Read: In your last line, you say that she's aiming for Lena's right flank - but she's attacking from the left. Given that it's her front hooves (and not her back, which could hit Lena's right side once she passes over), I think this was just a typo - but it did make me re-read it a few times.

LENA -- post 3

[Realism]
- 1| Dropped Attack: no mention of Sage rearing/flailing her front hooves to try and get Imogen off.
+ 1| Injury: Having Imogen thrown away by Sage's teeth
+ 1| Injury: Sage's kick nicking Lena's right shoulder.
+ 1| Defense: Lunging right to avoid Sage's kick - staggering a few steps as a result of the blow.
+ 1| Defense: Healing song.
+ 1| Attack: Trying to jab Sage's right side as she flies above.
+ 1| Attack: Kicking upwards at Sage's right side.

[Prose]
+ 2| Emotion: OH NO IMOGEN!!! All the feels!!
+ 1| Flow.
+ 1| Easy Read:

SAGE -- post 4

[Realism]
+ 1| Attack: Kicks towards Lena's right side.
+ 1| Defense: Running behind the tree to avoid Lena's horn attack
+ 1| Defense: Avoiding Lena's kick due to tree cover.
+ 1| Attack: Front hooves aimed towards Lena's left shoulder/ribcage area.

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
- 1| Easy Read: Given that Lena's post already covered the timeline, having Sage attack her right at the beginning, made for a very difficult read and timeline. I also think you interpreted Lena's 'brief' song, as having lasted longer than it did - for you had Sage land and look/listen, then run away and mock Lena before her attack hit.
+ 1| Flow.

LENA -- post 4

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Scrambling to the right to avoid Sage's attack. Takes the injury to her left flank.
+ 1| Attack: Kick towards Sage's chest

[Prose]
+ 1| Emotion.
+ 1| Flow.
+ 1| Easy Read.

SAGE -- post 5 (defense only)

[Realism]
+ 1| Defense: Rolling into Lena's kick to lessen the severity.


LENA

[Bonus]
+ 2| Breed Comparison.
+ 2| Surroundings

[Injuries]
Equally Injured

[Creativity]
+ 1|Granted the brief, rare opportunity amongst mist, trees and darkness, she noted the other mare’s appearance at their fleeting proximity, close in height, composition and shape without wings and horns they could be lithe laurels in the glade, dancing to the drumbeats and trumpets of campaigns

Comments: Your writing is beautiful! Especially when it came to Lena's thoughts about poor Imogen! Really great work!

SAGE

[Bonus]
+ 2| Breed Comparison.
+ 2| Surroundings

[Injuries]
Equally Injured

[Creativity]
+ 1| That's right - even the air would be sorry. THAT'S RIGHT AIR. EVEN YOU SHOULD WATCH OUT.

Comments: I love reading Sage. Especially lines like this: She had gone from a classy champagne to a rather baudy ale, and it may even get worse before this is all over. Sage could almost hear Madryn's amused voice now: You look terrible.

TOTAL
Lena - 81
Sage - 78

image credit to Paulo Brandão


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