eat sh*t and die } LUPEI

[Killdare]

THE DRAGON'S IRE, MORE FIERCE THAN FIRE

The roars are exquisite really, louder they grow until beast joins brimstone and the Chamber is alight with fire and life. From somewhere, from nowhere, Jungle beasts emerge- lions and tigers oh my! A magician, of course it were, they were everywhere here. He scowls after rocketing into Prague (whom he still doesn’t know), driving into her the best he can. There’s only so much for him to work with in this severely out-magiced fight.

He’s in the middle of tossing her, heaving her into the air, avoiding as best he can the wild claws that are steadily making something new. One misplaced knife rakes his face, his teeth clamping together before his back is burning. He drops the snake, the thing that he was sure had been a cat, his grip compromised by a well placed hoof to the back.

“Really Sunflower?!” He booms, rolling to the side away from Prague and the electric woman. His glassy eyes blink furiously with ash and tears as they work to rid themselves of soot. “Four against one! Four against one Magician and here you are your panties in a twist! Typical!” He growls, readying to send her to the ground as well, if only for the sheer pleasure it would be to maybe cause her discomfort beneath him. He wants to send her down, buckle her beneath his heft but she’s got something else in mind.

The light that radiates from her body is blinding, he’s seen it before though, watched it tear through solid matter like butter. Clearly he isn’t thinking straight, all he knows is the danger the light sends haphazardously ill aimed around the group. Where are the girls? What if it hit one of them, any of them?

“Joscelin no!” It’s the first time he’s ever appropriately named her, folding his wings on himself blocking his face and upper body while his back end was far less protected. A landslide of rock matter tumbles from the sky, finding his body but propelling him forward from the blast, just enough. He might lose his wings, they may burn from his body as he collided with her, they just might. It was something he would have to deal with later, right now he just needed to stop her. “I won’t let this happen!” He roars grabbing her as he finds his mark, clasping her tight in scaled arms as her burning body scalds into his own.

yeah okay so..idk what he is thinking but yeah..if changes needed pm me

[Lyris]

She’s waaaay too out of practice. She’s still grumbling as she reaches the Chamber and crosses the border, a little annoyed by her detour to the Gates. If she’d skipped it (and sort of broken her word to Prague) she would have been here before everyone else! She would have been the vanguard! But nooo, she’s the fat slob making her way over the border after everyone else has joined the party. Ugh.

She can hear the sounds of the fight up ahead, and springs into action. She may be late, but at least she’s here. And she’s ready to go.

She calls the winds to her, lifting her body off the ground and zooming towards the battle (wait, why hadn’t she simply done that on the way here?! SHIT!). She arrives in moments and quickly enters the fray.

She aims at a black stallion that’s attacking Prague, charging forward with a speed surprising considering her rather newer weight. But, she’s beaten there by a large winged stallion that immediately begins lashing out at the Chamber stallion. Her orange flecked eyes immediately begin searching for another opponent, but except for a much younger Amazon (Lexa’s friend, she thinks), everyone is already engaged. So she settles in to wait, eyes still darting about. More Chamberlings will be along soon, she has no doubt.

There’s no point in using her abilities at this point (everyone’s all too close together), but the sky above begins to roil and darken in response to her emotions. A storm is on it’s way.

Lyris

I’ll burn this whole city down

html by maat | gif by headlikeanorange.tumblr.com


TLDR (unlikely, lol): Lyris tries to attack Warship, she's too slow, Van gets there first. So she looks for another opponent. She's grumpy and accidentally influences the weather overhead - a storm is brewing.

[Kimber]

Freedom isn't free at all, that it comes with the highest of costs.
The cost of blood.

Kimber has never fought in a war but she can hear Warships battle cry miles, she assumes world's away, it is like second nature to her to go to him. Perhaps he would never love her, they would never share intimacy in a way that was written in best-selling novels but they shared a camaraderie that meant so much more to Kimber.


She belonged with Warship in the most true sense of the word.


She sees the chaos happening around her, the fire and ash so thick in the air it could snub her out if she wasn't so focused. She hears the battle cry of lions, the blowing of elephant trunks (what the actual fuck?) and still the mighty blue mare presses on toward the black stallion. She sees the winged stallion of the Desert reaching to attack Warship and the lion that shifts to a mare - a scent is detected but she doesn't know its place. Jungle. Amazon. Something else. She won't bother with it just yet. "Let him go, right now! I demand you to let him go or I demand your head!" she says matter-of-factly to the gray mare that has the vines reaching for Warship - Kimber doesn't know she's a magician for sure but she doesn't care. She rushes towards the gray mare, her black ears pinned to her skull and her amber eyes narrowed in - she approaches from the right side and watches the other lion's running towards her. The blue mare hopes to crash into the gray mare's shoulder and knock her off her concentration. She quickly moves forward from her attack and to circle around - two lions are on her back as she rears, trying to keep them off of her. They are biting incessantly at her nape. She grunts in discomfort and keeps thrashing about until one is loose. She sees the flames drawing nearer and uses the opportunity to wrestle her way to it, getting the other lion to the ground and stomping its head as the flames circle in. She catches a glimpse of Warship, the Desert King was another worry - Kimber moves towards Warship, knowing that the magician wouldn't give up so easily. She stands stoic and silent now, even though that's completely against her character, even though her entire body is raging with waves of adrenaline and indescribable emotions.


Her strength is coming from somewhere different now, somewhere untouchable to the outside.

k i m b e r

immortal blue chamber mare

Kimber is totes that possessive girlfriend and is only there to protect Warship so feel free to beat up on her.

[Sidra]

She’s in what had been her mother’s cave when the sounds of battle first drift to her over the wind. Killdare had pointed the place out to her (at her request), and she’s been here all morning, trying to get a sense of her mother’s last moments. They hadn’t been pleasant, that much she can tell. The ravens have cleaned up most of the gore, but the bones and the bloodstains remain. Blood … everywhere.

The horror that had filled her at the stallion’s news is slowly turning into rage. Her mother had been foolish and weak yes, but she hadn’t deserved this. No one deserves this.

She stands still for a time, absorbing everything and nothing, rage building and building. And then she hears it. Screams, and the clashing of bodies, coming to her with the wind. She recognizes instantly what they mean - she’d heard noises like that when the Chamber had attacked the Gates. Battle.

Serves the fuckers right.

She turns and flees the cave, leaving the bloodstains behind.

It doesn’t take her long to find the fight, and soon she’s peering through the trees at a scene vaguely reminiscent of the one she’d seen in the Gates so long ago. The fight is so large and chaotic though that she can barely recognize anything.

Except for one stallion that is. She certainly recognizes Killdare.

She’s more than a little surprised when he suddenly yells out her name, along with what she assumes are the names of three others. What the fuck does he want with her? He’s clearly more than a little occupied - it’s not like she’s going to help him with his situation. The Chamber deserves whatever it gets.

She watches as the stallion grapples with a weird creature that suddenly turns into a snake, and then suddenly attempts to wrap himself around a bay mare that’s been emitting blinding beams of light.

And then she snaps.

The rage that has been building ever since learning of her mother’s death overflows at her seems, spilling out of her in a ferocious rush. “KILLDARE, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” She knows he’s not responsible for her mother’s death, but in the ferocious tide of anger it does not matter. In the past few years she’s had her home burned to the ground, lost her father and brother, and had her mother viciously murdered.

Someone has to pay for it.

She thunders out of the trees at top speed, aiming straight for Killdare and the mare he’s … hugging? She’s oblivious to the flames flickering nearby. She crashes into his hip with a force that belies her comparatively small size. She stumbles as she ricochets onward, and somehow manages to keep her footing. Then she wheels around, hoping to find him lying on the ground. “FUCK YOU!”

Sidra

the wild child of jason x fiasko

@[Call], if this isn't ok, just let me know! I'll edit to say she missed him.

TLDR: Sidra attacks Killdare, and cusses a lot. :|

[Joscelin]

say hello to your mom in the midnight sky

In mere minutes the battlefield has turned into chaos. Others continue to join the fray, adding their weight to the battle for their chosen side. She is grateful to see others coming to the aid of the Jungle. A massive winged stallion, who seems to be targeting Lupei and Warship, is unknown her. But as long as he is on their side, she won’t complain. Draconis is there too, breathing fire at their enemies.

And then there are those aiding the enemy. A healer, god damn it. Just what they need, an endless supply of fresh reserves. Not if she could help it.

But Killdare seems to have other plans. He recognizes her, of course, just as she had so easily recognized him. Sunflower. The idiot is asking for it with those kinds of nicknames. He has an entirely different reaction however when she sends out her pulse of light. Rather than retreating as she had expected, he leaps for her. She screeches as his wings curl about her, his much larger body slamming into hers. It startles her enough to halt the stream of light, though she would be thoroughly surprised if he had managed to escape harm.

He’s a fucking idiot, is all she can think as she pins her ears against her pale mane, lashing out at him with teeth and hooves. She launches upwards again, breaking free from his clumsy embrace, aiming one last spiteful kick in his direction. He could damned well follow her if he wanted to try to stop her again.

Good luck on that score though.

Gritting her teeth, she whips around, bright metallic gaze catching upon the healer. She aims a bright beam of light in her direction, hopefully distracting her long enough to keep her from further healing her comrades. With any luck, she could keep her busy enough to stop her from constantly revitalizing her injured brethren. If she got really lucky, she would strike a killing blow. Then, following Prague’s directive, she begins taking out ravens. Bursts of white light disintegrate birds into nothingness, leaving behind only the faintest traces of blood and feather.

joscelin

[Lexa]

the dead are gone, and the living are hungry.

Larken had found her in what she assumes had been a reasonable amount of time. Her little sister had been nearly beside herself in excitement over the news - it had taken the girl more than a few minutes to finally get her mouth working enough to spit it out. War.

Lexa had frozen, momentarily, thinking, assessing. They’d known for some time that war was approaching, but knowing it’s coming is different than it actually being here.

But her path is clear - her new tattoos a reminder of the promises she has made. She will fight for the Jungle.

She arrives late to the battle and stops in a position in the trees where she can assess the situation before making a move. She sees a lion and a wolf, a few sisters, and a myriad horses that she’s never seen before. And her mother, of course. Lyris is never particularly hard to spot (especially with the gathering storm clouds overhead).

She stays still for a moment as the battle rages on, listening to the sound of flesh on flesh, and watching as the fights grow more and more vicious. Then she picks her target.

She chooses the blue mare purely because she is currently unopposed, standing stock still in the battle after attacking a lion (she assumes this must be Prague - normal lions don’t talk after all), and then killing two other lions.

She concentrates for a moment, sucking in the carbon from the earth around her. For once, she’s glad for her mother’s insistent nagging to practice - the action is as easy as breathing. Then she wraps it around herself, forming a black, solid, diamond hard armour. Impact injuries will still hurt a little, but at least she will be protected from the worst.

Then she charges forward, bursting through the trees towards the blue mare head on. At the last moment she plants her back hooves and rears up, striking out at the Chamberling with her carbon reinforced hooves. The fight has begun.

lexa

TLDR: Lexa attacks Kimber.

[Ribcage]

It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger

He snarls, turning his sinewy body this way and that – his hazel eyes catching hers, their throaty rumbles meeting each other behind the crack and hiss of fire and the gyration of everything around them. Pure chaos. When she erupts with clones he turns to each and tips back further on his haunches, spitting and lunging towards them. When she squares off with him and launches herself from the circle of her creations he takes her weight unevenly and unprepared. Her claws dig, notching holes in his tough, striped skin.

He hisses.

They thunder. They come together in a grapple, fixed and soldered by the steady and sharp lick of unsheathed claws. She lands a deep blow in his shoulder, he only hope he can gift her the same, pulling her close to him and shoving his weight into his assault. They go up in fur and gnashing teeth, until she goes for his eye. He jerks his head back just in time. Bitch. It could have been anything but that. It could have been his ear or his lips, or the softer parts of his armpits and groin. But not the eyes. Be bites at her, aiming ever for the throat but manages only, maybe, to glance her sandy coat. And then she sidles away and he pushes off, disentangled from each other. 

He heaves for a second but his respite is jarred. One of her lionesses makes for him, rearing up and he meets her, their claws both making for each other’s faces. But she is smaller, and she is weaker. She leaves a sting under his eyes, blood spilling over the edge of the unclean cut. He throws himself at her, incensed, taking her to the ground. He grabs her throat and holds, tighter and tighter like the grasp of a vice. He does not wait until she suffocates, he knows he cannot leave himself vulnerable for that long. So she shakes and bites down and he punctures the windpipe between his teeth – crushes it and leaves her fighting for the air that escapes and never makes it through.

Ribcage turns to the bay, just as she screams and then she bursts like an imploding star, and he turns from the brightness, some panic allayed by the fact that she has likely blinded not just him, but everyone else – friend and beastly foe. He reels back, blinking and cursing.

He knows what it is like to not see.
He knows his other senses so keenly.

But he can hear everything and nothing. Screaming and hissing, he clears his eyesight and orients himself just in time to see her becomes fat boe. But before he can think to pounce and taste snakemeat, she falls away and becomes nothing but water. He flinches back from it, stepping away from its encroachment towards his paws. Lightning strikes, and it lifts his fur on end and rattles his brain, his body tensing under the immensity of the air pressure and then springing away from the sound.

(What the fuck is this shit.)

Then, from the corner of his eyes he sees (seemingly) self-assembling great, red works of stone – horse in every way, but for their hard and ruddy surface, the way their stone skin and bones makes their features eerily lifeless. He coils back, this time he lacks the confidence and the piss and vinegar rushing his veins. When one comes to him, he thinks only to dodging its crushing hoof and jump. He makes to clamp on to its haunches, to hold until it tires itself out and falls. Falls, so that he can clamp its throat shut it from outside until its tongue lolls out. But his claws send up sparks when he tries to grab on, he would break a tooth on its hide. His hind legs engage, fighting to keep on but it throws him. He slips from its hind and rolls, receiving only a glancing blow (a glancing blow from stone, and it will bruise his ribs, indeed).

He is smart enough to know when a fight is not – could never be – his.
He rights himself, sucking air into his lungs and moves away, runs and dodges the thrashing of bodies. He finds a place, a cradle of ash and burnt ground, where he can breath. Cress comes, somewhere where he cannot see her, and he does not notice the sting in his ribs fade away between loud heartbeats. Nor the way the exposed skin under his eye gathered with scar tissue impossibly fast, stitching together. he is too flush with adrenaline. He suddenly wonders if bother and sister are still where he left them, safe and sound.

He remains on sidelines, his wide eyes darting to and fro, as overhead storm clouds gather and rain threatens to fall and bog them down with more sucking mud and damp ash.

TIGERCAGE
Atrox x Crone

mentioned are @[prague] and sort of @[Vanquish] but not really. He's just chilling on the sidelines because I don't know who wants to fight a tiger? Feel free to pick a fight with him.

[demian]

With a past so dark, that Satan'd jump out of his seat. But still you out in these streets, thinking you hot as can be.
Without the knowledge to lead, so you just follow the sheep. Making sure your lame swag is all polished and clean.

It takes only an hour but he is soon to realize that he has made it to the party just a little bit late. Down below the horses fought with intensity, bodies mangled together among the raging fires. Above him magicians formed in the shapes of dragons and large birds of prey battled with the ferocity of a thousand armies, their screams and calls almost deafening.

It is now that Demian flies over the Chamber, his body in the form of blue green and purple flame as he searches for Cress below. He knows not to search for Rhonan. He knows his friend and advisor can handle his own. But Cress was who he was most concerned for at this moment. It is when he sees her and another mare turn her attention towards the Healer that he begins to dive, the flames forming almost into the shape as a comet as he heads towards the earth and with a loud yell his hooves find the ground.

He's running then, his heart pounding with every step as he heads towards Cress, ears pinned and teeth bared as he forces the flames to be pulled back within him, changing his form back into a solid mass once more. It takes time, and only when he reaches her do the flames subside and he becomes a solid mass once more, all except for his eyes. He keeps them in order to keep Cress in his sights. Within seconds he is pushing her. Pushing her and himself out of the way of the bursting light, but just enough to make sure she is safe and to avoid a killing blow to himself. He grunts when his body meets hers, stumbling as he forces her free from harm and wrapping his wings around her for extra measure.

Though seconds later he is screaming in pain. His hind end catches the beam of light slightly, singing his hair down to the flesh and causing his skin to bubble in blisters on his hip. His back legs collapse then, causing him to stumble even more and with a sudden twist he pushes himself back up, forcing him to face the mare that sent out the deadly light. Chest heaving he stares at her, studying her before taking a deep breath and screaming a gutteral call of pure rage his wings erupting into the form of blue, green and purple cosmic fire. He can see her away, a form of smoke and ash through his eyes of fire.

His wings, no longer solid, stretch out his left one dragging on the ground, and the right outstretched as he heads towards the mare, teeth gritting against the pain in his hind end. The exertion the calling on the fire causes and the searing pain in his hip is beginning to wear him down slightly, his breathing heavy and partially labored as sweat begins to form on his chest. But he pushes himself harder doing his best to ignore it, legs churning as he leaves a line of fire in his wake. It was before he reached her he begins to turn, circling her and dragging the wing made of flame. He is closing her in, doing his best to seal her off.

He is doing his best to do it quickly and not be stopped. His heart is pounding as he circles the mare. He no longer cares that the Chamber is burning. In all honesty, he never did. For his fire was stronger than the dragon's and he could survive if it overtook him.

At this point it didn't matter if there were more fires.

The chamber would be ash once more by the time they were all done.

HTML TEMPLATE COPYRIGHT TO THE LOVELY CALL

ooc; dem basically saved cress and took the blow to his hip.
dem got kinda mad and ran after joscelin and is making a ring of cosmic fire of blue, purple and green flames around her to try and trap her.
i wrote this very exhausted and this is my first battle post so please excuse any weirdness, things flowing together terribly, etc and pm me if there are any issues and i will edit. :|

[Killdare]

THE DRAGON'S IRE, MORE FIERCE THAN FIRE

So many bells he thinks, half rolling, half pushed away from Joscelin’s form. His head is a musical, an unwelcome one what with the ringing... and the throbbing. Is it his head ringing even? No, nope, probably ears he assures himself, eyes slowly regaining vision. The blur fading back into clear sight but still he blinks, there’s still so much smoke and fire and all manner of things kicked up into the air. What time was it? Mid-day? Night?

Smart, real smart, he’d half-knocked himself out in that little stunt. Whatever, he wouldn’t have the Gates children’s blood on his hands, that’s for sure. He must not have been out long, or long enough depending on whose side you were on- he still catches Joscelin’s huffyness as she bolts away off to pester something else. Whatever he thinks, groaning as he slowly raises his head off the ground.

As he does this another burst of pain shocks him from the hind up, someone clearing barreling into his ass- nice. He’s cocked a leg, aim already set because they are going to get a good kick to the skull but for some reason he turns to see who it is.

Sidra

Good, she wasn’t dead or blistered with burns beyond recognition. “Get down you fool!” He bellows, flopping a wing over her like a catchers mit. Mostly a wing, because now the membranes had several large holes in them. His chest was seriously burned too, pink flesh, raw and weeping.

“You’re not going to be a martyr on my watch.”He grunts, trying to ignore her squirming, she could see out though- too many holes for her eyes not to find them. “Where’s the other one of you?...mmm..Topsail?” He was hoping the two were off together somewhere avoiding this whole fiasco (no pun intended), after he found his charges he’d work on the Chamber Princess- wherever she was. (Too much smoke/flame when he got here for him to know Yael has her)

He needed a healer now, bad, not just a waft of energy either. Though he does appreciate being able to gain his feet so quickly, eyes boring into Sidra's. "Don't be an idiot girl, you'll get yourself killed. For what hmm? Us? Your Mother? Don't be a fool, we didn't harm her. You can think that awful Gryffen whelp of her's for that." He snorted, scanning the scene for Eight or Evrae- shit.

[Weir]

oh the weather outside is frightful

Today is Friday, excellent day for a war if you ask Weir. Not like Thursdays, Thursdays are no day to start battle- everyone knows that. He’s just left the Gates, the resident Magician takes it from there and the roan winter-wielder bids him adieu. Jason he’s called, a nice sort of fellow Weir decides, even if he looks a bit sickly. Being blue all the time probably had something to do with that.

Anyhow, he decides he’s no longer needed and that his powers would be of better use somewhere else- he guesses he can head over to the Chamber now, see what all the fuss is over.

Weir stands at the meeting place, or what he is sure is the meeting place had they decided on one. Waiting, looking around the entrance of the Chamber while he himself is invisible. This invisibility thing wasn’t so bad, especially in a time like this, now if only Ramiel or Ely would arrive. They were all supposed to meet right here don’t you know? He told them like, last week, maybe the week before- okay so it was closer to three but who’s counting.

It’s just so, hot. Too hot yes, the fire’s that rage against the Chamber pines and dead leaves littering the floor is roasting. Yuck, enough of standing here, besides he can hear all the shouting and commotion from within.

Still invisible but with a nice cold winter wind blowing up his backside, he enters the foray. There is gore every where he looks, chaos, fighting, screaming, bellowing of horse and beast alike. It’s madness is what it is, even for a battle. Everywhere he looks there are strangers, a Dragon overhead, a snarling wolf shifter over there, that winged brute that came to the Dale once. “Darwin, which one’s are ours?” he asks, the tortoise blinking into existence (on this plane that is).

“Ours? You all look alike to me.” the great reptile grunts, clearly peeved by the scene before him.

“Oh wait, isn’t that..Joscelin?..Ely’s kid?” he comments, as the sunlight-filled mare flies above them. “Think so..” Darwin trails off, clearly not as interested.

The Magic filling the air is palpable, from every corner he can feel the tickle of it creeping along his spine. He doesn’t know much what to do with it though, not until he spies Eight overhead, changing into an osprey to attack a gigantic dragon.

Nasty creatures dragons, moody, ill-tempered. But, if Eight was set on attacking this one it had to be someone he himself was sided with. That’s how his reasoning of context clues worked and so he knew just where to place a little fumble in the tethers of that which was Magic.

It’s terribly hard to attack a fire-breathing creature with duck feet, where had he been aiming for anyway? No matter, Weir can just imagine the webbed toes slapping uselessly against the Dragon’s face. The thought is enough to send him snickering in amusement to the opposite end of the battle, closer to Shippy- he’s got to check on his best friend you know.

W E I R

Invisble- Magic manipulating - Winter wielder of the Dale

okay duck feet slapping against Yael's eyeballs was too hilarious to pass up mkay - and its not a whole duck, weir just changed his feet- well i can change it if needed