"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
05-15-2018, 09:15 PM (This post was last modified: 05-16-2018, 02:46 PM by devin.)
Welcome to the Battle round of the Nerischian Tournament.
If possible, each Ischian has been paired against a Nerinian. This round will take place in the format of short mocks. Each participant will post two attacking posts, with the person who posts first also posting a final defense post (Horse A Attack, Horse B Attack/Defend, Horse A Attack/Defend, Horse B Attack/Defend, Horse A Defend). You may use as many attacks or defenses as you’d like, though you will be limited by a 600 word limit, so choose wisely. You will have 3 days (to the hour) between posts, and four days from now (by the hour) until the first person is due to post. Judging will be done with a very similar rubric to the official battle rubric found here.
DO NOT post for these to be judged in the official judging thread when you are finished. They will be judged by Devin & Sid as they conclude.
Wishbone vs Mosrael
Wishbone will post first, unless otherwise decided by the players beforehand.
Jesper vs Leilan
Jesper will post first, unless otherwise decided by the players beforehand.
Breckin vs Viserion
Breckin will post first, unless otherwise decided by the players beforehand.
Bristol vs takei
Bristol will post first, unless otherwise decided by the players beforehand.
@[traton] vs @[Caw]
Traton will post first, unless otherwise decided by the players beforehand.
Perhaps it’s more like a mare to storm into battle without the pomp and circumstance the stallions tend to display. Perhaps it’s just Traton’s way of doing business. Regardless, there was no bravado, no scream of war. The spotted mare paced slowly, perpendicular to her opponent at a distance of about 15 feet, watching her with a single wary left eye. A wave of regret washed over her, cursing internally that she had been foolish enough to enter this damn tournament. Of course a tournament would include fighting. Nevermind that she’d never fought a day in her life. Hadn’t she been taught the opposite? She was perhaps an expert in being seen-but-not-heard. She tried to hide her nervousness, but it shone through the cracks in her façade. Her tail wrung, eyes wide, muscles tensed, nostrils flaring. If she was lucky, maybe it could be mistaken for excited anticipation. That feeling certainly wasn’t absent, but the young mare had seen enough of this land to know that some beings were terrifyingly powerful here. Given, this one seemed normal enough, but she knew that some held hidden powers and that prospect was rather frightening.
The thought occurred to her that this was a friendly sort of fight and should perhaps be introduced as such. “Hello. I-I am Traton. B-b-best of luck to y-you.” Cursing her nervous stutter and the fear that induced it, the spotted mare turned to face Caw, now angled slightly to her left side. She took a deep breath, rocked back on her hindquarters, and charged.
Maintaining sight of the black mare in her left eye, she lurched forward from a standstill toward her opponent’s left shoulder. Time seemed to accelerate as she did so, feeling electrified from the rush of adrenaline flowing through her veins and the surging of blood to her limbs. As she moved, her expression changed, morphing instinctively into something more intimidating, with ears pinned and incisors bared. Thoughts of fear melted away into the task at hand; she had come here with a plan, and now was only left with execution. As she came nearer, she tucked her hind limbs under her body and opened her jaws, appearing that she was preparing to launch her shoulders upward and bite down onto Caw’s withers. Yet she never did jump up; she feinted, diving her muzzle downward and attempting to bite the back of the black mare’s left foreleg.
Perhaps, had the spotted mare been more experienced, she would have been a little choosier about her target, aiming for the tendons. The same could be said even about the nature of her first attack, but this was a mock fight after all, and she wasn’t particularly interested in hurting anyone. Nor was Traton willing to invoke the wrath of some unknown power from the first move, and she supposed that a little caution was not out of line. She was, however, quite proud of her little plan with this feinting business. With proper execution and a bit of good fortune, it would allow her to account for her opponent’s natural inclination to dodge by leaning the withers away to the right, leaving a split second of increased exposure to the left forelimb.
@[Andromeda]/@[Belgaer] can you take over here for Venge/Caw? Don't worry about time overmuch on this first post since I'm just getting around to asking, just whenever you see this is fine <3
The battlefield stretched hungrily before him. Landing deftly upon the grassy plain he considered his place there. Although a skilled fighter, his interests tended to be more of the diplomatic sort. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to find himself there, opting to remain behind in Ischia while his father was away treating with the Nerinians. Brennen had need for him, however, and the ever-loyal son had been quick to comply. He stared across the battle worn patch of grass, his eyes easily finding his black appaloosa opponent. Pacing across the way, he could almost feel her nervous energy as she paced along the length of her side. The pending event did not faze him. Since the time he’d been able, Brennen had tirelessly trained him to be an accomplished warrior. Though he had since chosen a different path for his life, he was grateful for the lessons he’d learned.
Beneath his flesh he concentrated on the manipulation of his bones, allowing them to grow and stretch the sinew of his muscles. His was not a common gift, but he was grateful for it and the advantages it gave him.
From across the field, his opponent’s voice drifted into his ears. Her broken speech softened him a bit as he remembered his first mock battle. It was a nerve wracking experience but he sensed that she would do well.
“Thank you, Traton,” he returned with a nod. “And good luck to you as well.” The decision to keep his identity silent was for her sake. He feared that if she knew the truth of him her nerves would worsen.
The first move belonged to her, by luck of the draw. Timidly she turned to face him, slightly oriented at his left shoulder. Even at the distance that he stood, he caught sight of her inhale before she began her charge. Her eye contact never wavered as she continued towards him. Maintaining his position, he braced himself for the inevitability of her first attack. Teeth bared, and ears pinned she aimed towards his left shoulder, her neck stretching out to reach him. The anticipated touch of her teeth sent him side-stepping away just as she fell to her knees. Unexpected, the touch of her teeth upon his ankle sent a shot of pain through his limb and he kicked out in response, pulling his ankle from her grasp and aiming towards her jaw. With teeth of his own revealed he danced his limbs out of her reach and bent his neck to tear into her right wither.
Luckily for him, her bite hadn’t been enough to damage the vital tendons within his leg, but it had been strong enough to peel back a layer of skin. Hot blood trickled down his hoof-wall, staining the dirt beneath him a muddy red. He ignored the pain, however, as he peeled himself away from Traton, creating space between them to move. At her left side, he forced his weight onto his front legs and spun around, kicking out his hindlegs aimed toward the soft of her barrel. As he landed he threw himself into a lazy canter, turning himself to face her once more.
The rending of flesh gave her pause. Transfixed, she was lost in time for a moment as he pulled his ankle away and she saw underlying layers of skin laid bare. The wound was fresh and raw for an eternal second before blood began to well in the void, first in rapidly blossoming speckles and then from the severed veins at the edges. She’d seen it all before, watched her own skin when it had been torn countless times before, but it never ceased to fascinate her.
Though much could be said for one who didn’t shy from the sight of blood, distraction in the heat of battle is rarely advisable.
She grunted as his hoof collided with her jaw, wincing as her teeth slammed against each other and made a horrific scraping sensation. The very tip of her tongue, previously languishing near her incisors, became caught in the crossfire, crushing and shearing the tip. Instinctively, she scrambled backwards, eyes watering. The coppery taste of blood disgusted her, and it began dripping from her lips as she tried to expel it from her mouth, frothing slightly as it combined with saliva and her hot breath. She was almost surprised when his teeth grazed her shoulder, scraping away the fur. The stinging sensation registered in her mind, though not nearly as demanding as the throbbing pains in her head. Neither were a match for the thrill of the fight, but that didn’t stop the pangs of girl, you’ve done it now from screaming through her head.
Her heart called out for her to stop, and to be released from the ribcage of such an irresponsible creature, but Traton loved it.
She had little time to remain fascinated with her new revelations and bask in the feeling of blood spreading outlines of her jawbones. He was already moving, already drifting into position for something stronger. She attempted to move out of range as his hindquarters began to lift, but it only placed her more in range. The air evacuating her lungs did so with an audible groan as his hooves collided with the flesh of her left flank. She hunched over, nostrils flaring, unable to quite draw breath. It wasn’t the first time the wind had been knocked out of her, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Seconds felt like hours as she gasped, turning to track his position with a wild, somewhat fearful eye. All the thrill of the fight discovered only moments before evaporated into cold sweat, bruised bones, and a primal struggle to survive.
Traton had never been one to take her fate lying down, regardless of the consequences. After all, that’s what had brought her so far from home in the first place. This is perhaps why, after a moment to regain some functionality of her diaphragm, she wheeled on the stallion with a feral look in her eyes, ignoring the screaming of her muscles as they cried out for oxygen. With him now facing her and slightly off to her right, she charged forward, quickly closing the short distance to his right side. She jerked her shoulders to the left just after they passed his own, stepping under herself with her hind legs before striking out with them at his right shoulder, aiming where the delicate joint of his wings lay. Rational thought had largely abandoned her, dissipated in a haze of ragged breath and terror.
There is always a choice, it transpires. Eat, or be eaten. And in a moment of panic, the spotted mare chose the former.
The battlefield stretched hungrily before him. Landing deftly upon the grassy plain he considered his place there. Although a skilled fighter, his interests tended to be more of the diplomatic sort. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to find himself there, opting to remain behind in Ischia while his father was away treating with the Nerinians. Brennen had need for him, however, and the ever-loyal son had been quick to comply. He stared across the battle worn patch of grass, his eyes easily finding his black appaloosa opponent. Pacing across the way, he could almost feel her nervous energy as she paced along the length of her side. The pending event did not faze him. Since the time he’d been able, Brennen had tirelessly trained him to be an accomplished warrior. Though he had since chosen a different path for his life, he was grateful for the lessons he’d learned.
Beneath his flesh he concentrated on the manipulation of his bones, allowing them to grow and stretch the sinew of his muscles. His was not a common gift, but he was grateful for it and the advantages it gave him.
From across the field, his opponent’s voice drifted into his ears. Her broken speech softened him a bit as he remembered his first mock battle. It was a nerve wracking experience but he sensed that she would do well.
“Thank you, Traton,” he returned with a nod. “And good luck to you as well.” The decision to keep his identity silent was for her sake. He feared that if she knew the truth of him her nerves would worsen.
The first move belonged to her, by luck of the draw. Timidly she turned to face him, slightly oriented at his left shoulder. Even at the distance that he stood, he caught sight of her inhale before she began her charge. Her eye contact never wavered as she continued towards him. Maintaining his position, he braced himself for the inevitability of her first attack. Teeth bared, and ears pinned she aimed towards his left shoulder, her neck stretching out to reach him. The anticipated touch of her teeth sent him side-stepping away just as she fell to her knees. Unexpected, the touch of her teeth upon his ankle sent a shot of pain through his limb and he kicked out in response, pulling his ankle from her grasp and aiming towards her jaw. With teeth of his own revealed he danced his limbs out of her reach and bent his neck to tear into her right wither.
Luckily for him, her bite hadn’t been enough to damage the vital tendons within his leg, but it had been strong enough to peel back a layer of skin. Hot blood trickled down his hoof-wall, staining the dirt beneath him a muddy red. He ignored the pain, however, as he peeled himself away from Traton, creating space between them to move. At her left side, he forced his weight onto his front legs and spun around, kicking out his hindlegs aimed toward the soft of her barrel. As he landed he threw himself into a lazy canter, turning himself to face her once more.
