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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    [challenge] I love the trouble and the trouble loves me; Mazikeen
    #1
    He is not normally a patient creature, but for this, he had waited. Mazikeen’s recent visit had given him the last pieces he needed to put into place his plans however. He had told a few of his ambitions, though he had spared them the details. Of course, he hadn’t had the details to begin with, so it hadn’t truly been a choice. Now though - now he is ready.

    Or at least, as ready as he will ever be.

    As he crosses the border, delving into a copse of trees, he watches carefully, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his lips. He knows the alarm would have alerted the inhabitants of this land to his presence. There is one inhabitant in particular he wants to alert however. Hyaline’s ruler. The shapeshifting queen who had lost herself to a cursed creature.

    He should fear her anger, but he does not. Instead he hopes for it.

    Reave does not expect much to come from this initial foray. Perhaps luck would be on his side and his gambit would be successful. But given his inexperience with true battle, he would not bank on luck. He may have trained with his mother, but he is not fool enough to believe it would be enough. This is only the beginning.

    “Mazikeen.” He does not bellow, instead whispering her name into the wind. He’s not certain if she would hear it, but it hardly matters. If she does not appear, that will make this so much simpler. He sticks to the trees as he makes his way deeper, steps muffled against the leaf litter. The scent of wisteria, earthy soil, and clean, crisp water hang heavily in the air, the morning sun lingering quietly beyond the canopy with only a smattering of sparse clouds to block the brightness.

    “If you want to keep your stolen magic, come and stop me.”

    His voice is no louder than it had been when he spoke her name, the declaration offered only for the benefit of a woman who had once been something akin to a friend. He might have hesitated to call out that woman, but the one she has become? He would not hesitate for her.

    Still, at the end of the day, no matter who she once was or has now become, he has come to Hyaline with a purpose. To reclaim the magic his mother had won long ago. To reclaim Craft and Anatomy from this thieving land.

    ****

    - Reave is challenging for Craft and Anatomy’s entity, which is to come with him to Nerine if he wins.
    - Five days between posts.
    - Three rounds with one attack and one defense each.
    - Mazikeen or her champion will go first.

    Reave’s stats:
    Hybrid (tall, lean, warmblood-type build)
    16.1hh
    Bone Armor (covers shoulders, barrel, hindquarters, head), Vision Manipulation, Empathic Echoes, Foresight, Immortality, Harpy Eagle Companion
    #2
    To answer the alarm set off by the entity, Mazikeen pads through the woods as a white wolf searching for the intruder. Apprehension keeps her tense as she easily pictures worst-case scenarios. Will there be a flash of iridescent blue between the trunks of the trees as her only warning before she dies again? Will she even get the chance to fight back this time? She hadn't known fear for a long time, but she feels it easily enough now. She fears losing what she's gained on the whim of a monster.

    So it is a surprise when the scent she catches is familiar but not who she had expected.

    Mazikeen is someone else every time she meets Reave, and she cannot help but wonder if this trend will continue. If she will keep on changing (keep being changed by others) until she no longer recognizes who she was the last time she spoke to the bone-adorned boy.

    No, not a boy anymore. He had grown up. He was all sharp smiles and edges when she had visited Nerine, and she hadn't even cared enough to wonder what had changed him.

    Worry has her keep her distance at first, it gnaws relentlessly at her insides these days, and she moves parallel through the woods with him a few dozen yards away. Despite that worry, she is happy to see him here until her canine ears pick up his words. Had Gale stolen it? She wasn't sure - she had not thought about how he had retrieved the entities (which now feels incredibly naive, but there had been a lot going on). She does know that it hadn't come from Nerine, or the north, at least. The entities had all come from lands under this kingdom. So perhaps someone in Pangea or Silver Cove had taken it first.

    Although she would be glad to be rid of the reminder of Gale and there is no genuine desire in her to fight Reave, she has no intention of just handing over what has been sitting here in Hyaline for years. The entities have been helpful and there's a flash of annoyance that it is only now, with the Curse elsewhere, that someone has come to take one.

    She did not want that to be her fight anymore but what choice would she have when everyone else ran?

    Shrugging off these dark thoughts, Mazikeen angles her trajectory to head Reave off close to where the forest turns to meadow thick with summer wildflowers and the shimmering lake beyond that. She pauses once she's in view - shifting back into herself when her steps stop and she is a few dozen strides away from him. Her bright orange eyes are lighter and clearer than they were the last time they spoke, and they stand out against the pristine white of her coat, without a single scar to mark it.

    She doesn't know what to say to him so she doesn't speak, letting her unmarked skin and the slightest tug of a sad smile at the corner of her lips tell him what she wants him to know - that she is closer to the mare he had met in the forest than the one who had come to Nerine.

    But he had come here with a purpose, so she does not expect him to change his mind over this reveal. Best to get this over with. The thrill of the fight is muted in her now, stirring only just a little as she gives him a slight nod and then shifts. Mazikeen becomes a harpy eagle, flapping her wings a few times to settle into this shape before taking off as fast as she can to close the gap between them. When there are a few lengths between them, she changes again - becoming a giant short-faced bear. This prehistoric shape gives her another foot of height at the shoulder than she has as an equine, making her taller now than her opponent. She attempts to use the momentum built by the short flight to essentially hurdle this stocky body into Reave's lean frame, to bruise or throw him off his balance.

    It takes a few heavy steps for her to keep her balance and she's quick to twist to keep him in her sights - knowing she's likely only aware of some of his tricks.

    ----

    Mazikeen's Stats:
    height: 15hh
    breed/build: Quarab with some stockiness from mustang blood
    traits: Phoenix-type immortality, limitless self manipulation, glowing horns, glowing markings, fire aura, telepathic bond with Gale
    #3
    As she comes into view, shifting into the familiar pale figure, he notices she is free of the blemishes she had been adorned with last time. A smile curves across Reave’s lips as he draws to a halt, watching her curiously. He had nearly made it to his destination before she had intervened, only thin trees remaining between himself and the meadow beside the lake. He doesn’t exit the sparse forest however, instead sheltering in their trunks and waiting for her to close the distance.

    The memories that curl around her are new now, different from the cruel ones of earlier. It is easy for him to see that her heart is not in this. Strange. It’s as though she does not truly wish to fight him.

    She would of course. He had made the challenge after all, and she could not let it slide. But in those scant few moments before she attacks, he is forced to once again adjust his plans.

    Mazikeen says nothing in response to his whispered words of challenge. Instead she charges, her figure mutating into the familiar form of a harpy eagle. Is it coincidence she had chosen the shape of his companion to come for her?

    He doesn’t think so.

    Reave has already discarded any thought of sifting through the future to find his answers in this fight. There are too many lines tangled together. Far too many to sort through in the short amount of time he would have. Far too many to try and guess which would be the right one. So he focuses instead on his other talents. He is not fool enough to believe he is any match for her physically - not when she can shift her form on a whim and be both larger and stronger or smaller and faster.

    No, if he were going to have any hope of winning this fight, he would have to prove himself cleverer. So the moment she charges, he stretches out the fingers of his first assault. He targets her eyesight of course. It’s tempting to strip Mazikeen of it entirely, but that would be far too easy to adjust to. Instead, with a simple twist, he attempts to set it slightly off kilter. If he is successful, everything she sees would be just a few moments out of sync, and if he is also lucky, she wouldn’t even notice he had done it. The version of Reave she would see would be just a few heartbeats slower than the true Reave, throwing off her aim and giving Reave the leeway he needs to counter her attacks more successfully.

    This had of course the unfortunate consequence of giving him little time to prepare for her initial attack though. He had stayed in the trees knowing they would at least provide some protection and force her to slow her momentum, but the bear that is hurdling at him now appears to have plenty of heft behind it anyway.

    He doesn’t try to brace himself for the impact. Instead, he throws himself into the fall, head already dropping and knees buckling as the huge beast barrels into him, sending his not insignificant form skidding across leaf litter and thudding into a cluster of small saplings. His bones jar roughly in the impact, breath heaving from his lungs. His armor might offer him some protection, but the force of the blow still leaves bruising results in its wake.

    If Reave were not accustomed to pain, he might have been left stunned. Fortunately, pain has been a familiar companion for most of his life, so the moment he is able to suck in a breath, he scrambles quickly to his feet and does his best to shake off his bruised ribs.

    His eyes immediately go to where the shapeshifter had skittered off to after her attack, a breathless laugh leaving him the moment he is able to draw enough air to speak. “Pulling your punches Maze?” He grins despite the breathlessness of his words and the taunt in his voice. “I knew we were still friends.”
    #4
    She recognizes the feeling of having her vision tampered with, having experienced it plenty of times before. With Gale and even with Reave himself, back when they had first met. However, her vision doesn't darken like expected, nor are there nightmares crowding around to distract her. Instead, everything becomes blurred in that short flight as an eagle and then the charge as a giant short-faced bear. The quick switch between these shapes and the differences in their brains and eyes stops the full effect of Reave's influence from settling into place.

    Mazikeen couldn't even say what it was that the young stallion had been trying to do. Most things remain the same, but there is a blur around Reave like two moments are constantly fusing. It gives her a headache to focus on him, worse when he is in movement like when he scrambles back to his feet, and frustration blooms in that now-pounding head.

    She is not frustrated enough to make her angry, though. There are far too many other emotions crowding into her mind for that to happen so quickly anymore.

    Like the guilt that twists her stomach and she doesn't try to shake it away. It has no place in a battle though it often finds her there anyway. She did not want to hurt Reave; she just wanted to keep the entity he sought. And all her emotions, even the negative ones, are still better than the emptiness Mazikeen had known for so long. So even if it made her strikes a little less fearsome than they should be, at least she was not just some feral animal intent on tearing apart someone else.

    If they weren't in the middle of a fight, she would surely laugh or cry when he calls her Maze. It's such a simple thing, that nickname, but it means so much to her now. It is a tiny sliver of her old self as if redemption could be as easy as cutting off a few syllables. There's a shine to those orange eyes that are trying so hard to focus on Reave, her pupils flickering between one moment and the next, just before she moves forwards to swipe at where she hopes the bone armoured stallion actually is with a giant bear paw. Mazikeen-the-bear cannot retract those claws or they might have been - because he's right. She still wants to be friends.

    Instead, she aims to strike his head or neck, guessing at which end of the blur is the right Reave. This is another move that is made to throw him off balance because that desire she had in Nerine to try to pull bone from flesh no longer exists. "You're one to talk." She bites out, though there isn't much venom in these words. There is even less in the next ones - which come out as a small plea. "Hit me, Reave." Was it even a fight if she were the only one making punches?
    #5
    She had shifted in the midst of his attack, rendering it only partially successful. Reave would have huffed at that if he had the extra breath to do so. His talents are something of an art, and though he has practiced since he was a colt, his craft is far from perfect. He grimaces at the blur and quickly withdraws. He’d fix it for her later if her next shift didn’t do it for him. Right now however, it serves his purposes well enough.

    Mazikeen is already coming for him again. His left side still thrums painfully in time with his heartbeat and blood trickles from his skin where it meets the glowing bone of his armor. Dirt cakes the crevices of his armor on his right side, gathered when he’d slid across the leafy loam.

    Yet he grins, eager for more.

    He is already moving when she reaches him. By the time she swipes, he has shifted to his right, head ducked as he pivots on his forehand so he can kick at her exposed chest and belly with his hind legs. Hopefully her momentum would carry her straight into the attack.

    Reave hisses out a breath as her claws clatter across the end of his bruised, armored ribs, tearing briefly at skin before being deflected by the jut of bone on his hip. When his feet are back on the ground, he lurches forward with a laugh.

    “Your wish is my command,” he manages, a crooked grin creasing his lips. With some distance between them, he turns, gaze seeking her out. In the form she had chosen, he has better maneuverability than she, though there’s no telling if she’d kept the shape of the bear in the wake of his attack. “You should know,” he continues quickly, wanting to get these words in before she comes at him again. “Even if you win today, I’ll try again. And again, if I must.”

    He has no choice. Not really. Craft and Anatomy had chosen his mother. The grief of her disappearance threatens, but he swallows it down. Reclaiming the entity might not bring his mother back, but it would be something.

    Blood may trickle down his side where her claws had ripped his skin, his ribs might throb with pain, but determination still lights his masked features. Reave has never minded losing. He hopes to win, but even loss presents him with an opportunity to learn and adapt. And if there is anything Reave excels at, it’s learning and adapting.
    #6
    A grunt escapes Mazikeen-the-bear when Reave's hind legs land their kick at her dense chest. She stumbles backwards a single step, her large paws crunching and shifting the leaves coating the ground. The heavy coat and muscles of this shape absorb some of the blow, but the bruises will be deep and painful for a long time. She mentally chastises herself for leaving that area exposed while stretching out to swipe at him with a paw and then quickly resolves not to dwell on it just yet. There will be time for that later during her post-fight ritual of agonizing over every move and mistake.

    The sound of Reave's laugh and the scent of his blood hit her at the same time, and suddenly her head reels. When Reave speaks, she isn't seeing him anymore and cannot comprehend what he is saying. Instead, she hears Gale laugh as she tears a chunk out of his throat. Seeing the bay stallion she had hunted down with Gale that first time. The mare Mazikeen had watched him tear apart in Islandres. The small handful of other, nameless victims that came afterwards and who she had tasted. The feeling of ecstasy as she had sunk her teeth into their flesh and tore pieces out to devour or just because she could. Mazikeen's eyes go wide and white-rimmed as she struggles to remain in the fight, but Reave's blow to her chest makes it difficult to breathe and these visions sit there like a weight making it worse. Each breath becomes a ragged gasp and the scent of blood is there with each inhale, giving strength to the memories.

    Mazikeen instinctively shifts back into a horse. Although it has only been a few seconds since Reave's feet landed back on the ground, it feels like time has stretched and warped before her. The sunlight through the thin trees seems muted. Mazikeen's trapped in the past and Firion is not nearby to draw her away from her thoughts with a gentle touch. There isn't the sound of Myrna and Malik laughing to root her in the present.

    She can feel the blood that isn't there, feel it slide down her cheek and throat as she goes for another bite…

    A sob chokes out of Mazikeen, cutting off these thoughts. Then she is surging forward to close the gap between them and stumbling into a hasty rear, striking out with dark hooves for any part of Reave she can reach. Her blurred vision has mostly cleared from his first attack, only to be partially blinded now with tears as she exists half-in, half-out of her memories. Mazikeen's chest aches as she moves, but the pain is not enough this time to snap her fully into the present.

    She is not worried about how exposed this apparent weakness makes her and whether the bone-armoured stallion will delight in it. She can't even wonder if this trap had been set out by Reave - if he was manipulating her thoughts to send her into a spiral. There isn't a single rational thought, only some instinct telling her to finish what had been started here at the edge of Hyaline's forest.
    #7
    The satisfaction of landing a blow on her broad, hairy chest is quickly superseded by his desire to put distance between them. Given her height and heft as the prehistoric bear, the kick is barely enough to slow her down. To his surprise however, the simple attack appears to lead to something far more debilitating than the moderately annoying bruise his hooves might have imparted.

    As much as he would like to claim he is the one who had sent her into an emotional spiral, he cannot. When he turns to face her again, she is in her familiar equine shape once more. Though only moments have passed, he can see memories rising as her emotions heighten into a toxic cocktail bent on destroying her from within.

    If he were a better stallion, he would not even consider using the slurry of her worst memories to his advantage. But he is not a better stallion, even for those who have the misfortune of calling him friend.

    She charges towards him where he stands facing her, blinded by tears rather than his machinations. It makes her uncharacteristically sloppy. It should delight him, but even he doesn’t have the heart to find humor in her misery. Instead he ducks to his left, pushing himself forward in an attempt to angle past her oncoming form. Her hasty strike clatters across the bones of his shoulder, jostling him so that blood seeps from where skin pulls against bone.

    Reave executes his own attack as he slips past her, though it is not a physical one. He pulls at the memories swirling like acid around her, attempting to pluck forth the darkest images to send back to her in a barrage of guilt and grief and rage and agony. It’s a cruel tactic made crueler by the fact that she is not the same creature anymore as she had been back then. But Reave has no room for a conscience if he means to win.

    He has always known his greatest strengths do not lie in his physical abilities. Not when he knows how easily memories can bring one to their knees as swiftly as physical pain can. Though he can never fully predict how someone might react to the emotion-laced scenes he draws forth, he hopes this would be enough to bring their fight to an end.

    And, daft though it may be, he hopes Mazikeen will not hate him after this. He enjoys her friendship when she isn’t dreaming about tearing out his throat.
    #8
    Each shaky inhale brings with it the scent of blood and causes Mazikeen to sink a little further. She goes through the actions of the fight because she must and because even in this state, she cannot just walk away. A clumsy attack is still an attack. Maybe later she’ll have the capacity to criticize herself but for now, it is enough. She does not fully register when her hooves are back on the ground, distracted instead by the renewed scent of blood when it seeps out of where bone and flesh meet on Reave’s shoulder.

    Rational thought returns just long enough for Mazikeen to mourn over how useless she is as a protector if she cannot handle the scent or sight of blood anymore. If seeing it only reminds her of terrible things, like the gurgling noises made by her daughter as she bled out.

    And then the tide of her grief rises again as though some force is pulling it. How can she defend herself against her memories? If there is a way, Mazikeen has not learned it yet. All the ways she has learned to manage moments like this are far from her right now; either physically or mentally, she just cannot reach them. Reave slips past her instead of reaching out for a physical blow. Mazikeen almost thinks he does not attack her at all. Instead, the weight of her memories continues to increase until she’s trapped in a familiar maelstrom of grief and anger and guilt.

    But she lives through this method of drowning almost every single day now.

    And maybe that is why she does not collapse to the ground or even turn her head away even though some instincts scream at her not to let him see the sobs that are shaking through her body. Other instincts and that well-worn stubbornness keep her upright and help her to move. Her stride is awkward and staggered as though her limbs weigh twice what they usually do but she still manages to walk in an attempt to keep herself between Reave and the edge of the forest - and the entities that lie beyond. Her head stays turned towards him as her sides heave with ragged breath; her orange eyes are focused intently on his armoured face. Through the haze of tears, there is an unwavering determination burning inside of her with the mess of everything else.

    She will not give up either.

    At the very least, whether empty-handed or not, she will make sure the bone-armoured stallion leaves her home before she truly allows herself to fall apart entirely.
    #9
    Winner: Mazikeen

    barely....it was close ya'll. Battle Rubric
    #10
    @Kyra thank you for judging! I was hoping to clarify the empathic echoes thing you mentioned in the rubric so I don't make the same mistake in the future. My understanding is that it can be used to see memories tied to emotions. Because Mazikeen mentioned specific memories in her post, I was under the impression it's like mind reading in that if someone thinks something specific, they would be able to pick up on it with the ability. I tried to word that carefully in saying that yes, he saw certain memories because they were specifically referenced but it was only an attempt to draw more out in order to avoid powerplaying. So is even just seeing things the other person specifically mentions in previous posts considered powerplaying? If so, what is the appropriate way to reference it without powerplaying? It never occurred to me it might be so I'm trying to figure out where the line is here




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