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Post by valiantshadow on Dec 1, 2014 19:29:44 GMT -5
Objective IV Phase II between Grange and Daemyn
Grange's heart was beating hard in his chest as he crossed the packed summer earth. It was just before dawn, but dark clouds obscured the pale pink tinge that sunrise brought to the sky. In fact, it looked and smelled like rain, not a good omen on this of all mornings. It was time for the first battle; Greer had lost to him in their last sparring battle, and it was now his duty to fight for his herd. At the time, when he had just learned about Greer's foal with his ex-mate Cethin, he had thrown himself into training wholeheartedly. Now that the first battle was here, the champagne stallion was feeling unnerved. This was not practice. This was completely and utterly real, and the consequences would be just as real as the fight itself. Sighing, the stallion tried to stop his legs from shaking as he found his first opponent. The laws of chivalry prevailed here; they would square off first, then break into their fight. Raising his eyes, Grange stopped before a Palomino stallion who was....dear unicorns....so large. His hooves were nearly the size of Grange's face, and he stood much taller than the tiny horse. But, on the bright side, Grange would be faster than the draft.....if he managed not to get stamped on in the beginning of the battle.
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Post by SagaWolf on Dec 1, 2014 19:57:57 GMT -5
Damyne’s blood felt incredibly warm in his veins. He stood on a small raise, giving him a fairly good view of Olde and Bachelor. He was still somewhat perplexed at having won, despite how much he’d wanted it. A little voice at the back of his mind kept whispering that he had no place on a battlefield. Oafs didn’t fight, they hid and waited for trouble to blow over. He snorted to himself and scraped the ground beneath. He wondered if his old demented mother knew how wrong she’d been this time, how alike his father he actually was.
Dae’s blue eyes snapped to a scarred figure coming his way. All around horses were engaging one another and it seemed that this little Bachelor had drawn the short straw. Daemyn felt the warmth in his veins condense in his chest until it threatened to burst through his skin with each heartbeat. A little absentmindedly he pinpointed it as hatred.
The large shire mix rolled his shoulders and narrowed his eyes as he began to approach the small grey stallion. He was ready. He had to be ready. The Bachelors simply could not win!
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Post by valiantshadow on Dec 2, 2014 19:29:52 GMT -5
(Ugh, I had a perfect reply typed out, and my cat had to jump on my computer, turning off my wifi just as I hit post. >.< Thank you, Cat.)
Great unicorns this stallion was big! Grange's eyes flicked over the horse, trying to find some weakness in him, some chink in the armor that would allow the smaller stallion to defeat him in battle. Although his heart wasn't in this war anymore, his body knew better than to let him get brutally beaten up by an Olde horse, especially one with dinner plates for feet. Besides that, he did harbor feelings of resentment towards the Olde herd. While he disagreed with taking a mare a month to pay for the Exiles' safe passage, he could not stand the idea that the Olde herd thought they could march over the landbridge and attack the Bachelors. The Bachelor herd was a mess already; mares were treated like slaves, and stallions of Grange's persuasion earned many a harsh word or kick for simply taking up space and, the horror, breathing. But Grange knew that if they lost this war, things would only get worse. The Bachelors lived for chaos; they reveled in it. If they lost the war, there would be fighting amongst them, fighting that would injure the innocents, and that was something Grange could not have. Meeting the shire mix's blue eyes, Grange's expression slipped into one of steely determination, and he squared off, not giving an inch as the larger horse grew closer. Calculating, he prepared for his first move.
With a squeal, Grange launched himself at the larger stallion, flailing his hooves like some sort of demented bird. His intention was to distract Daemyn by flashing quick, in-your-face movements, while in reality he hoped to duck down and take a muscle-damaging bite out of the palomino's chest. Even as he was lunging forward, Grange wasn't sure if it would work. But it was too late to back out now, so he pushed forward, using his speed as he tried to land the blow.
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Post by SagaWolf on Dec 9, 2014 12:19:10 GMT -5
[Sorry that it's taken this long to reply. As mentioned earlier, my parents came over from Denmark on a small vacation. So we've been entertaining and sight-seeing and having a blast! Now I should have a good portion of time to give this RP. Oh dear, 3 days left and no art yet! *flails* ]
He’d trained for this, had he not? He’d trained to become a Guard of the Olde Herd (although he wasn’t quite there yet) and being a Guard was synonymous with fighting whether your fought predators or horses. Still his mind was a roaring mess of thoughts and voices he simply could not silence. His mother’s vile accusations and at the same time her loving encouragement. Her illness took up too much space in his head, didn’t allow him to clear his mind and despite staring straight at the grey Bachelor, he almost missed the lunge.
Daemyn jerked to life and sidestepped only to plant his front hooves firmly in the ground, and swing his rear around like a swooping battering-ram. He’d brought his chest out of harms way, but arranged his whole side for a beating if the grey one kept flailing his hooves like a horse possessed. Dae’s ears pinned back against his skull and nostrils flared just moments before he reared back, aiming those massive ‘dinner plate feet’ at any part of grey hide within reach. He had no plan, no tactics. He fought from the gut.
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Post by valiantshadow on Dec 10, 2014 19:34:08 GMT -5
(No worries.  I have enough of an RP going that I was able to come up with an art idea.) It should be morning, now, as they were fighting, but the gray rain clouds blocked almost all of the light from the rising sun. As thunder boomed in the distance, the rain began coming down in earnest, creating thick gray sheets that soaked the two fighters and the ground beneath them. While the rain pounded from above, the two horses' hooves churned up the earth, which was quickly turning into a sop of mud. As he fought, Grange briefly pondered that it would become even more difficult to fight in the sticky, slippery mess than if it had been dry. Not to mention that the clouds were making it much darker than usual, which meant it would be harder to see an attack coming. Grange would not say there was a cliche moment where time slowed down, but it did seem that he grew faster. His natural instincts kicked in, along with the desire to drive this interloper out of his herd's land, and he thrashed away, earning a glancing blow on the point of his hip from the large stallion's hoof. Although it hurt badly, and he stumbled, Grange was able to swing out of the way and throw a couple of sharp blows towards the larger stallion's exposed sides. He couldn't be sure if they hit or not, as he was too focused on not being injured to tally the number of times he his versus the number of times that he missed. He was in too deeply now to be spending his time thinking about what hits he'd made. Instead, he needed to think about his attack. Unlike Daemyn, Grange had never had size on his side when it came to fighting, and so he had developed a tactic of reading his enemy in order to overpower them. If Daemyn was going to fight with brawn, then Grange was going to fight with brain. Stumbling, the small stallion dipped his 'injured' side, acting as though the clip from Daemyn's hoof had done much more damage than it really had, and that - in his weakened state - he was slipping on the rainy ground. (Although, to be fair, the stallion's feet were enormous, and it hurt like crazy. And it really was becoming a cesspool of black mud.) He hoped this display of weakness would guile the larger stallion into attacking what he would assume was Grange's "weaker" side, falling into his trap. When (if, actually. Grange wasn't sure the stallion would fall for this ruse. But assuming that he did) Daemyn approached Grange's near side, the small horse could let out a vicious kick. |
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Post by SagaWolf on Dec 12, 2014 4:04:02 GMT -5
The sticky black goop of mud clung heavily to Daemyn’s massive feet and made it difficult to avoid slipping. The ground went from a solid mass to a treacherous sloopy soup as the two stallions danced around each other. More than once a hoof slipped and threatened to send him rolling in the mud, but by some manner of luck he regained his balance, though the gray one got the opportunity to leave his golden hide flecked with red cuts, swells and bruises. He fought to keep his agile opponent in sight. Not only was the smaller stallion far faster than Daemyn could ever hope to be, but his grey hide made him blend in with the dark night and the torrent of rain.
Daemyn felt teeth or hooves dig into his skin just behind his withers and although adrenaline masked the edge of the pain he let out a low-pained whinny and withdrew. He felt a warm trickle across his skin and down his side as fresh blood joined the cold torrent of rain. The shire-mix had never been hurt proper in his entire life! Sure a few nicks and scrapes from stumbling around, and plenty of bruises from sparing or play fighting, but feeling warm blood running down his side was completely new.
And enraging.
The grey stumbled and Daemyn was on him in the blink of an eye! He knew he’d hurt the Bachelor and now he saw an opportunity to finish him off. Whether that meant beating him into a retreat, unconscious or taking his life didn’t matter. Winning mattered! Securing the Olde Ways mattered!
Dea charged forward with a deep roar exploding from his throat, eyes narrowed against the stinging rain. His teeth were bared and he brought up both front legs so he could crush the Bachelor under hoof. In any other scenario he might have been successful but Daemyn never even saw the trap until powerful hooves caught him in the chest and ribs, knocking the air clean out of him. Something snapped loudly and hot pain shot through his side while he struggled to breath. He’d thrown his full weight into that kick, and as the momentum carried him on, his front legs didn’t move fast enough and he crashed onto his side in the mud, skidding a good few feet. His massive hooves kicked the air and cut deep into the soft earth as he struggled to rise and breath.
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Post by valiantshadow on Dec 12, 2014 10:55:50 GMT -5
Honestly, Grange was so relived that his plan had worked, that his euphoria caused him to stand, stupefied, as the stallion made his way to his feet. It was a stupid move, and the stallion realized as soon as Daemyn was back on his massive hooves. But by then it was too late; although he had slid some distance, the large palomino was still within crushing distance, and he seemed even more enraged by the blood from various cuts and bites on his body. It was too muddy to run; Grange's speed was diminishing with every new sheet of grayish rain, and by now he was sunk hock-deep into the black, tar-like mud. Although Daemyn would sink farther, due to his massive size, he could also free those dinner plate feet of his with much more ease than slender-legged Grange. Now, it was so treacherous that Grange worried he might snap one of his fragile leg bones if he tried to flail around too much. Unfortunately, flailing like a madhorse was how he'd kept his advantage this far. And that massive kick had been his only plan. He knew, and berated himself for not doing it, that he should have come over while the stallion was still struggling and beat him further with hooves and teeth. He knew he'd had the opportunity to crush the golden horse's skull with his sharp hooves, silencing the Olde horse forever. But he could not bring himself to kill the stallion. As much as he wanted the Bachelors to win, he hated the thought of killing more. But he still could have run the horse off. Now, as the golden hulk scrambled to his feet, Grange's heart beat quickly in his chest, and his blood ran as cold as the icy rain dripping down his withers. He'd used his one chance, and - although Daemyn was clearly injured - it hadn't been enough. With a growing sense of fear in his gut, he met the palomino's blue gaze, wondering what fate could come of this battle.
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I have enough of an RP going that I was able to come up with an art idea.)