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Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2017 10:08:45 GMT -6
 Hello Starborn, and welcome to Plot 407: Road to Freedom
Team Leader: Dinah
Participants: Q, Eshana, Jimmu, Freya, Mateo, Lorencio, Bates, Marshal, Cyrus
Please keep the following in mind!
- Posts must be a minimum of 175 words. There is no maximum!
- No strict order is enforced, but there must be at least two posts between your own character's.
- No god-moding or reading characters' minds (unless your pony is a literal telepath, anyway)
- Always get consent before harming another character!
- Your team is precious. Try to interact with everyone. <3
- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'D
Prompt: Since being barred from Eithne, the Vindicators have had to be cunning in order to continue their fight against slavery. Though they may not be able to enter New Valore, they can cut off the capital city’s primary source of new slaves: Onea. Countless hours of careful planning have culminated in a well-timed barricade of the War Lord’s Road, to block the passage of a shipment of enslaved Oneans heading south.
The Warlord has sent some of her finest raiders south to deliver a shipment of chained future slaves, and to escort the War-Forged ambassador Mateo and her son back to New Valore. The routine trip takes an unexpected turn when a bend in the road reveals a high wall of fallen trees, manned by furious Vindicators.
Location: the War-Lord's Road, Onea
Time of Day: Afternoon
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Post by Jennycallie on Jul 15, 2017 16:34:16 GMT -6
Dinah | Paladin
Dinah had been pacing for hours. In the darkest moments before dawn broke, she had been nothing but a shadow, a shadow with glowing eyes. Always moving, always keeping alert. And now dawn had broken across the land, slowly revealing the crude but effective barrier that the vindicators had constructed over the War Lord’s road, at a narrow and necessary pass near the border of Eithne. One of two: the rest of her team was guarding the second barricade. Ithran led them, and he and all the others had on them an imbued necklace of invisibility. It was scarce protection, but it was all Dinah could offer. The rest was up to them. Dinah pushed them from her mind; she could not afford to worry about them. She turned again, paced the length of the barricade once more.
Her strides were fluid, almost deceptive in the way they ate up the ground with rapidity. In her youth, Dinah might have taken the extra time between the barricade’s completion and the arrival of their quarry to rest, to conserve her strength. But she was not 20 years old anymore: her body was lean and scarred, and if she allowed it to rest while tension thrummed through it, she knew she would be stiff and painful. And slow.
And this mission hinged very much upon speed.
Dinah swept her eyes quickly across her group as she turned and paced back the way she had come. They too had imbued necklaces, which would last for only two uses before losing their charge.
Hours crept past. Dinah did not bother muttering that the shipment of slaves, tipped off to the vindicators by an inside source, was late- everyone knew that already. It was obvious in every pair of tense, wary eyes. Dinah also did not bother going over the plan again, to fill the silence; it would be remembered. It was simple.
Stop the shipment, let Dinah distract them, then attack as they milled in confusion, free the slaves, vanish into the forest.
Suddenly, as the sun hung high in the sky, Dinah tensed, and whirled, her head flung high as she stared north, up the road. A faint but distinct dust cloud was hovering on the horizon.
“They’re coming,” she said simply. “Places.” The vindicators were to hide, while Dinah stood alone, a dark and solitary figure in front of the barricade. Not threatening enough to shoot on site, but ominous enough to grind the caravan to a halt. And then… then they would attack.
Dinah’s eyes were the colours of the blazing sun, as she set them on the approaching enemies, but they held none of its warmth.
Post 1 | 452 words
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Post by misttheelf on Jul 15, 2017 17:26:58 GMT -6
Jimmu looked up at the mountain as he stood waiting for orders. This place seemed strangely familiar to him… But he could not let that bother him. He had left his past behind him, after all. Now, all that mattered was the mission. This caravan must be stopped, at all costs.It was critical to the cause.
He watched Dinah pacing, but he dared not strike up a conversation - With the tension, who knew what reaction would take place.
He knew his role, he knew the plan.
And he waited for the orders.
He glanced around at where his companions were, the younger ones resting behind the barricade, while he stood near the edge.
It had been a long task, cutting and hauling the logs into position, however, by some miracle of the gods, they were not discovered while doing it.
“They’re coming,” Dinah spoke, causing Jimmu’s ears to perk towards her. “Places.”
And he moved to hide behind the barrier, as his compatriots stood, ready for action.
And Jimmu waited for the signal to be given to attack.
Post 1 | 179 Word Count
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Post by LaBelleAnni on Jul 15, 2017 20:40:18 GMT -6
It was a cool evening, with dusk falling over there heads as the sun rolled behind the trees. The path was long, as well as rather boring. With his head held high he trudged alongside his fellow raiders and cargo. It was going to be a long ways to, with hooves crushing the dirt underneath each step. A dull expression clothed his face. With nothing other than to deliver useless slaves, he wondered if Hira really trusted the elder raiders to do anything more than this. How could she not? They were the best, after all. The most experienced raiders doing such a simple task through the dark forests of Onea. All in the same, he had to respect the War Lord's decisions, no matter how idiotic they seemed to be at times.
Nevertheless, he continued on, glancing around regularly, watching to spot anyone. Nothing was there. Of course. No danger. It was suspicious, though he didn't dwell on the thought. With his good eye he swiveled his head, turning to look at his fellow comrades. One had a dark gray coat with a large scar marked between his eyes, while the other seemed almost untouched, unscathed. Easily he could tell the stallion was younger, yet held more of an authority by his stride.
Not once did he unnecessarily speak to them, staying silent and concentrated ever since the mission had started. At first they were given orders to their mission, he learned their names. The child he failed to remember, though could care less about it. Bates, Marshal, and Mateo. Two of which were important to their cause, while the other... more cargo. It didn't help to keep an eye on multiple slaves along the way. He dared not argue though in the long run.
As they moved along, their backs to the setting sun, Cyrus' ears twitched. A feeling in his gut sprung, one that shouted in his ears. Danger. Something didn't feel right. Instinctively he moved in front of the group, being the one to lead it.
What? What is that? He thought to himself, squinting his eyes. There was a mare, standing alone in front of fallen trees, some sort of blockade. It was odd. Abnormal, really. Had his good eye been failing him now? He stomped his hoof, halting the group from moving any farther. Nothing felt right. The mare in front of the fallen trees was rather calm, eyeing them coolly. This was not a random mare. It couldn't have been.
Cyrus slowly drew his sword, eyeing down the equine that stood before them. A hoof pushed the dirt from underneath him away, displaying an intimidating stance to show that they meant business. He huffed out a breath, glaring in the direction of the mare.
In his head though... he was rather pleased with a fight. It was something that made him feel much younger, made him remember what his life drive and reason for living on Hireath. Something that would get his hooves dirty, and attacking a lone mare? She had to have been a Vagabond, of course. Why else would she be hanging around the forests of Onea all alone? There simply was no other reason of her being there in his mind. Surely by then his fellow raiders would be on alert. A threat stood in their way, and he was not about to stop until it was brushed aside, crushed underneath their hooves.
Post 1 | 575 Word Count
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Post by Callousal on Jul 15, 2017 22:24:18 GMT -6
B A T E S
War-Forged Raider
"Take your shot but make it your best. 'Cause I get up, I eat ya."
Hooves met the damp soil with resounding thuds,strides full of intent and purpose, no matter how boring and exasperating the trip he was going to make sure it was successful. Bates was used to escorting slaves to Valore, or rather, to the border, as he never dared step on their imperious land. Though, he was miserably aware of the company he had, which meant the draft had to take a much more facile route; The War Lord's Road.
A few faces were familiar to Bates, the young child that Mateo seemed to string along was the only individual he couldn't place a name on - nor could he care enough to ask the colt. The behemoth chuffed to himself as his cold eyes scanned the freckled ankle-biter, if his mother was idiotic enough to bring him on a transportation mission he assumed the child wouldn't survive to see adulthood; even then he was being generous. Albeit, it wasn't his an affair that he had any interest in and so his eyes continued inspecting his comrades.
An older stallion , Marshal, stiffly hobbled in front of him, a small grimace crossing Bates' features as it caused falters in his inevitably wide strides. Why in Kaia's name was an elder accompanying him on this escort, it only gave him another body to look after! It made absolutely no sense. He groaned inwardly, subtly increasing his speed until he was beside the stallion; acknowledging his presence with a curt bob of his anvil-sized head.
It was then that Cyrus, a familiar raider, quickened his pace and drew his sword at a mare in the middle of the road. Bates squinted at the bold figure, his hackles raising as suspicion infiltrated his bloodstream. Either she had a death wish or she was not alone. The draft turned, his back to the group, instinctively surveying the road they had been travelling on as well as the sides of the tall pines. It was eerily quiet, Bates peered around and instinctively inspected his surroundings as he allowed Cyrus to silently intimidate the obstacle in their way.
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Word Count | IDK ILL UPDATE IT
Mentions | EVERYONE !
Post Count | 1
Notes | |
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Post by MusicalMagpie on Jul 16, 2017 14:39:54 GMT -6
Marshal | Raider
Bits of soil rolled forward as a dark hoof stabbed toe first into the ground, resulting in a less than graceful series of steps. With a quick skip of a half-step the old raider returned to a normal gait. As boring as transport was, it was what the aging stallion needed. Life needed to just. Slow down. Marshal almost let his head sink below his withers, but the pounding of dinner plate sized hooves reminded him to keep it in a mostly respectable position. Tired brown eyes scanned across the entourage. Those chained up were meant to become slaves in New Valore. The thought of culling the weak to slavery never sat well. Had his disability been greater, he thought, the raider himself may have been in the same spot.
The mammoth of a horse behind him was a younger raider, Bates. Hearing the snide chuff it was clear he was having a grand time. The ambassador, Mateo, had brought her son. Marshal let a smile tug at the corners of his muzzle. Lorencio, that was the child's name. Bringing a child on a mixed escort didn't sit right with the raider. Slave escorts were frequently assaulted in some fashion. Even with capable raiders around, the risk seemed too great.
The train-car had sped up and had taken up pace beside the grey. Noticing the curt bob from Bates, Marshal replied with a somewhat raspy sigh. Another aged raider had stopped and drawn their sword. Looking past Cyrus, Marshal saw a lone figure and a big fucking wall. Upon seeing the Great Wall of Trees the scarred up raider gestured forward with his head and commented.
"That's a big fuckin' wall."
As he spoke, he adjusted the crossbow in its holster with a dull glow of teke. Finally something interesting. Hopefully not too interesting.
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Word Count : 305
I've had his crossbow purchased for forever, but it's not on his sheet. which i'm updating now with all his shit so it will be there soon
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Post by Gaybies on Jul 16, 2017 19:48:55 GMT -6
M A T E O☼War-Forged Ambassador☼ Cowards die many times before their deaths
The valiant never taste of death but once. Once upon a time, Mateo had come upon a very large, very healthy bird. This bird was trained to, among other things, carry message to and from their War Lord Hira. Why, in Ignacio and Kaia’s names, was she forced to make a trip home? It seemed remarkably uncalled for, given that, despite coming home, she hadn’t learned anything that couldn’t have been sent in Santiago’s reliable claws.
Because of this, whatever it was, Mateo had been forced to board a ship with her young son, as it seemed that he would be safer with her than in Valore, and return home. Home to nothing, apparently. Sure, the decision had been made to head to war, but it seemed fitting that the message could’ve been sent to her in Valore and thus relayed on to the nobles and such. Still, who was she to question their War Lord? Still, the fresh scar upon her neck was a dark reminder of the events of the past few months and she had no small amount of disdain for the apparently frivolous journey.
The Ambassador glanced down at the young colt at her side, his scruffy animal trailing along contently beside him. The poor colt, he really didn’t deserve all this excitement... still, he seemed to have come out of the whole hostage situation no worse for wear. She would’ve much rather taken him home alone, confident in her ability to protect the two of them. Smaller parties generally had an easier time, anyway. But, Hira had insisted. Matty sighed as Santiago soared on overhead. She offered Lorencio a soft smile before turning her attention to those who had been assigned to escort the pair. She recognized a few of them. Bates, the fatass who had blocked her path that one time up in the mountains... some grumpy older raiders that she’d never really taken the time to get to know and couldn’t currently remember their names. Perhaps she had spent too much time in Valore... her own herd basically strangers to her. Eh.
Her gaze would shift as the large wall came into view and she immediately began to slow her pace, bumping her son with her shoulder so that he, too, would slow down. For Ignacio’s sake, could they EVER take a trip without there being some sort of bullshit? Nope, probably not. But she’d be damned if her son felt hostage to anyone again. She kept him close, positioning herself so that he and his dog were more central to their little convoy and not on the fringes. Something about this barricade, with the horse standing on top just didn’t sit well... obviously. And, nice as the grumpy old stallions were... she wasn’t about to put her son’s life in their arthritic hooves.
Word Count: 463 | Post: 1 |
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Post by RusticForrest on Jul 17, 2017 18:15:34 GMT -6
"Q"
[ Vagabond | Vindicator ]
Behind the wall, the shadow of a stallion lurked. He, alongside his brethren, were called together, brought with one mind, one purpose: freedom. It was the world in which they lived, a daily experience that many would deem folly to value so highly. For the Vindicators, for their Paladin, freedom was everything. For hours they lay in wait, the lazy sun slowly creeping above the horizon to grace the earth with its beaming rays. Half-blind eyes had blinked, uncomfortable in the bright, illuminating light of day.
Where Dinah paced back and forth, the dark horse had remained stagnant, eyes draw to a single point farther up the road, the place where, inevitably, their prey would surface. From his vantage point atop the barrier, he could see far in each direction. For a time, his attentions turned, and he searched those that stood around him. Newer to his rank, Q knew relatively few of his fellows, often preferring to operate on his own. Those who chose this life intrigued him. . . for there were many purposes behind their plight. Selfish, selfless, protection, power. . . each as relevant as the last.
The Paladin's voice broke the silence, signalling the approach of the caravan. As his lips curled, Q hid himself among the branches of their barrier, single seeing-eye watching the proceedings through a tiny crack, a plume of smoke rising from his nostrils in anticipation. Beneath a slick, glossy hide, muscles flexed, readying themselves for the exhilarating conflict soon to unfold.
[ Post #: 1 ]
[ Word Count: 250 ] |
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Post by songsofinfinity on Jul 17, 2017 21:59:00 GMT -6
L O R E N C I O War-Forged | Kindling It was a glorious day.
Lorencio trotted happily beside his mother, Scorch panting at his side. The scruffy street dog had grown nearly eight inches in the past three months and was nearing her full height, which was much bigger than Lorencio had expected. Whatever combination of breeds she was, they had all been really, really big. Which made Scorch super cool.
They'd been walking for what felt like forever, and Lorencio had spent most of that time watching the raiders from a careful distance. They were so much bigger than he was that he felt it was good to keep out of their way, but they were so interesting that he couldn't just... not watch. That would be ridiculous. So he kept out of their way, more or less. Sure, he'd asked a few questions in the morning, but that didn't really count as being 'in the way' no matter what Bates seemed to think. The big stallion didn't seem happy that Loren was here, and the grumbling from the other Raiders showed they agreed. Lorencio had learned several new words on this trip already, and he was eager to add more to his collection.
The slaves they were traveling with were another curiosity. It seemed strange that a herd would give their own people away to be slaves, but not that strange, not when compared with all the other wonders and curiosities of Onea.
He liked Onea. Sure, it was cold, and rough, and there weren't nearly so many pretty buildings as in his home, but it was a fascinating place. The buildings weren't pretty, but they worked, and they were tough. Everything felt like Uncle Mui somehow, or maybe he felt like them. Lorencio wasn't sure. Either way, any place that was like Uncle Mui was a good place in his book.
He was lost in his thoughts as he walked. As a result, when his mom bumped him with her shoulder, he stumbled. That brought him out of his reverie, and he focused on the... thing on the road ahead of them.
It was a big pile of trees, a huge pile of trees! And in front of them was a dark horse. He couldn't see her well, but there was something weird about the way she was just standing there. Suddenly he was very glad that his mom was pushing him to the middle of the group of horses. Not that that stopped him from peeking around her shoulder to get a good look at the goings-on, of course. He was relieved to feel the pressure of Scorch against his leg. Hopefully this time she would behave herself and stay close to him.
Word Count: 463 | Post Count: 1 |
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Post by Jennycallie on Jul 19, 2017 1:55:09 GMT -6
Dinah | Paladin
Dinah may as well have been a statue, for all that she moved as the caravan approached. Only the wind betrayed her, sending strands of her own dark tail to dance around her fetlocks and hocks, and her forelock to shift over her glowing eyes.
As the group slowed and then warily halted, Dinah sized up the Raiders first. One was old, one was angry- already drawing his weapon, Dinah noted coldly- and one was- ah, ash on the wind. The golden one was massive. He’d be slow, maybe, if they were lucky- but when he hit… one of Dinah’s lips twitched, half curling up over her teeth. Then her eyes snagged on another golden form- ah. That would be Mateo, the Forged’s Ambassador to Eithne. A politician, steeped in the corruption of not one but two societies.
And then- Dinah saw him. Saw the colt, quickly shoved back among the adults. One of Dinah’s hocks twitched, nothing more, but to any who knew her the gesture was akin to a shout. A child. She had not been expecting a child. Gods damn it, gods damn Eithne and Onea. Well, it didn’t change anything. The Vindicators didn’t need orders to know not to harm a child, even one already indoctrinated to a life of corruption. Indeed, no one need be harmed, if they allowed the goods and slaves to go free- but of course, they would not. Dinah’s eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. Though most of her attention was on the Raider glowering at her with a sword, she had notPos missed the older stallion’s crossbow.
She allowed the silence and the tension to grow for a few moments, to make sure every eye was on her. Anger and fear and disgust had drained away in the Paladin, replaced by a sharp, cold thrumming of energy. Just as it had been all those years ago, when she spilled her blood for the entertainment of a crowd, a metal bit cold and bitter on her tongue. It was a cruel irony that Dinah’s captivity and training served her so well now- but she could at least turn the irony around. Let Aodh reap the rewards for training her to spill blood with ease, let them watch her bleed them dry.
The silence surrounding the bizarre group reached its peak, deafening in its totality. Any moment, one of the group would break it, would make some sort of demand or order of attack, depending on their intelligence level. Instead, Dinah did as she always had, as she had been known for doing in the Pit: she simply erupted into motion, without wasting a single pointless word, and three things happened in rapid succession.
With a quick flick of her telekinesis, Dinah scooped up a clod of dry soil and sand, flinging it towards one side of the group, hoping to “blind” them for the space of a heart beat or two. Without waiting to gauge the effect, Dinah had already leaped forward in the other direction, barreling directly towards the Raider with the crossbow, intending to knock him off his hooves. And for her third trick… a long whip, lying coiled unassumingly in the grass at Dinah’s hooves, suddenly leaped to life as Dinah grabbed it in midair, and sent it snaking towards the Raider with a sword, in a bid to wrest it from his grip.
Dinah had speed on her side, maybe, but her true goal was to cause as much confusion and chaos as she could on one side of the caravan, and with all thoughts and eyes turned towards her, the hidden Vindicators were to pour out from their hiding places like so many avenging spirits, and loose the hobbled and chained slaves. Her movement, her leap into the midst of the enemy, was the signal.
Post 2 | 647 words
TLDR: Dinah flings a bunch of dirt/sand in some faces while leaping forward and attempting to slam in to Marshal, while at the same time using her whip and attempting to knock/pull Cyrus' sword away from him. It's attempted as a distraction, putting everyone's eyes on her and allowing the other vindicators to sneak out and try to free the slaves. Totally up to you guys if Dinah is successful at hitting Marshal or Cryus' sword, or if anyone else notices the attacking vindicators! This is just what Dinah had planned, it does NOT have to be successful. Also I will update Dinah's ref tomorrow to include her whip. c:
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Post by Mad-Manx on Jul 19, 2017 9:09:23 GMT -6
Eshana | Mare | Vindicator Eshana's very body seemed afire with tension, the anticipation for the coming mission sending tingling sensations racing down her spine. It felt ages ago that she had accompanied Godric and their band of slaves beyond the borders of Valore, yet that did not stop her from being by far the least experienced equine in their group that day. Years of residing as a labour slave had left her body lean and toned, but the art of combat was still only recently learned. Ithran and the other Vindicators had seen to that, that she would be prepared to hold her own no matter what the situation, and despite her inexperience and nervousness she knew this would not be the time time to back down. Not when there were other's lives at stake. The thought of Ithran, however, had the unintended consequence of sending another jolt of anxiety through her chest. She would grudgingly admit in recent months she'd taken a bit of a liking to the stallion, and being unable to see or know how he fared worried her more than she cared to admit. Still, she did her best to banish the intrusive thoughts from her mind, reassuring herself with the knowledge that he was a seasoned warrior far beyond her experience, and he was far from alone. Their mirror group of Vindicators were more than capable of holding their own against the Aodhian Chevaliers. Despite that, she had to admit a small part of her still envied their positioning, a vindictive part of her wanting nothing more than to see a glimmer of recognition in one of their eyes, to watch in shock as a labour slave they had presided over for years rose against them. Eshana's thoughts were quickly interrupted when at last their targets came into sight, and she suddenly focused herself with bated breath. Her breath hitched in her throat as the mare and foal accompanying the group became distinguishable, her forelegs responding to the revelation with nervous twitches. That had not been part of the plan. By the soft twitch in Dinah's statue she too had spotted the unexpected development. It would not change their plan, Eshana knew with a touch of dread, but she desperately hoped the War-Forged would be as mindful of the innocent life as she expected the Vindicators to be. She intended to avoid the foal as much as possible, and in those final seconds of stormy peace she silently prayed the gods would take heed of the young life. No sooner had she readied her stance did all chaos erupt. Dinah leapt forward with experienced precision, spearheading their attack with ferocity. Eshana hesitated but a moment before throwing herself from her hiding place, spilling onto the road to the side of the travellers as Dinah captured their attention. A goal had already manifested in her mind and eyes narrowing in determination, Eshana headed straight for the would-be slaves, fully intending to remove the chains that held them. She would be damned if she saw these souls join the fate she did without a fight. Post 1 :: 514 words |
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Post by MusicalMagpie on Jul 19, 2017 12:42:43 GMT -6
Marshal | Raider
Everyone had stopped. No, everything stopped, save the wind. The wind played about like a bully trying to instigate a fight. Marshal had the crossbow unclipped and barely hovering off his side, the only give away being the soft grey glow of his teke. Becoming lost in focus he could only hear the breathing of those around him. Breathing was good, it meant everyone was still alive. He shifted a few steps to the side lining up with the lone figure. The old raider wasn't as good with close combat as he used to be and instead relied on keen eyes and a good aim. However with the wind he still couldn't get a clear shot. Moving farther to fix that would be a dead giveaway to his actions.
Keeping his crossbow loose at his side, Marshal began removing a bolt from its keeping. Slowly. But of course, nothing would ever happen slowly. Dirt and sand was suddenly flung up at them. The fuck? Marshal let his eyes track the cloud for a second too long and when returning his watch to the figure, found them in motion. Taking even breaths he lifted the crossbow from his side while simultaneously loading the bolt. This happened in a slow, calm heartbeat. But the figure was there in more of a fast, panicked one. He didn't have the shot. As soon as he could see down the sight the dark horse had met his own shoulder. Holding his breath and bracing against the blow, the old grey lost his hind end and was knocked back on his ass. Reduced to a sitting position, Marshal gritted his teeth and tried again to line up the sight in the midst of chaos. The risk of shooting someone else had sky rocketed. Had the caravan been just Raiders and slave crop, he'd be okay with being reckless, but there was an Ambassador and a child. The others could call him soft all they wanted, but the risk of harming either by mistake was too great.
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Word Count 340
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Post by misttheelf on Jul 19, 2017 14:47:05 GMT -6
Jimmu frowned when the caravan came into view. A child accompanied them. This was not a part of the plan. He glanced towards Dinah, noting her twitch, showing that she, too, had spotted this unexpected development.
Then she leaped into action.
After a moment, Jimmu leaped over the barrier as well, charging towards where the slaves were chained - They were the goal after all.
As he charged, he couldn't help but feel like one of the escort was extremely familiar to him. A feeling he tried to shake off as he charged, his battleaxe held slightly off to the side as he charged, its keen edge glinting in the early morning light.
He attempted to charge straight past the Raiders escorting the caravan, running straight past most of them, until he neared the one who triggered this feeling of familiarity. His pace slowed a tad, as he glanced towards the large stallion, with the dappled coat, but with a shake of his head, he started to continue towards the chained slaves. The mission was why he was here. Not his forgotten past.
post 2 | 182 words
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Post by PeculiarVixen on Jul 21, 2017 12:29:17 GMT -6
She stood still, waiting patiently and watching everyone else with unsettled eyes. Q was hidden along with Eshana and Jimmu at this point. Freya was pleased to see the number of Vindicators had risen by quite a few after what had happened in Eithne, souls were starting to see the awful truth of Aodh that many silenced themselves about... 'ignorance is bliss' as they say.
Frey's ears twitched when she heard Dinah's voice break the un-nerving silence, "They're coming, Places." Simple orders, what could go wrong? 'Perhaps the Raiders..' she thought silently to herself as she slipped into the darkness.
The caravan slowly approached Dinah as she stood alone in the moonlight in front of the chaos we caused, but then a light coat towards the back caught Freya's concern 'a child??' none of them were expecting a child in the caravan, she didn't worry as she knew her fellow comrades enough to know they'd protect the soul even if they were our enemy, A child doesn't choose their heritage. Perhaps this would be a good thing for the colt, But for that we need to make sure no blood is spilled.
Dinah stood silent waiting for an opportune moment, As soon as she caused the distraction they all went to work. Freya snuck along the tree line til she was set behind the Raiders and where she could make a bee line straight to the slaves. She looked around to see where the rest of them ended up to stratagize how they're all going to tackle this. She nodded to each one of them signaling that she was ready to execute the plan.
"It's go time bitches."
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Post #1
WC: 280
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Post by LaBelleAnni on Jul 21, 2017 21:00:18 GMT -6
 C Y R U SThere was silence between the two, with the elder Raider glaring into the eyes of the mare. She dared to test their patience, dared to test their authority, and dared to test him. His brow furrowed, eyeing her down the whole time. He wished to make a move right then, to start a fight, though that would not have been smart. No, instead he waited for her. He did not have to wait much longer though. The mare sprung into action, taking it upon her to move quickly. For a brief moment he shut his eyes to evade the dirt, and that brief moment was what gave her an advantage. In no time at all had she already knocked down Marshal, the old fool already barely able to walk in the first place. He landed down on the ground, while a tug was felt through his teke surrounding the steel sword. Quick to act, he strengthened his grip on his sword, pulling it back to him swiftly. That was the last straw for him. With the sound of hooves barreling nearby in the forest, he acted accordingly. "Protect the Ambassador, round up the slaves!" He shouted to his fellow Raiders, lacking hesitation in his words. Then, he turned to Marshal, a flare in his eyes. This was a fight, there was no time for messing about. "Get up, you imbecile!" He gruffly yelled at the fellow Raider right before starting off after the mare who attacked them in the first place. He huffed out a breath, seething with adrenaline and rage for the moment of battle.
His hooves pounded against the ground, sounding thunderous as he went after the younger mare, his sword held by his left side, where he was most vulnerable. There was a fire in his soul, a vengeance that selected her as the victim. No, not victim. She was no victim. By now he could fully tell by her rogue actions that she was not defenseless or wandering. She had to have been a vagabond. This fact only pushed his fury farther. She was going to pay for this attack, as would anyone else who dared cross him.
As soon as he approached the dark coated mare, he moved to slam his shoulder into hers. The intention was to stun her, to knock her out of balance. The brawl had begun, and there was no stopping him until he or she came out as a victor. Death was possible, but he didn't care. He raised his sword, readying it for use, aiming to strike down upon the opponent, though did not quite swing down just yet.
Post 2 | Word Count: 440 |
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Post by Callousal on Jul 24, 2017 21:31:49 GMT -6
 tagged: cyrus , jimmu, marshal 329 words Silence rang throughout his ears, anticipation clawing at his muscles until finally, the statuesque mare sprang headfirst into action, aiming straight for Cyrus. Like ants, yet more individuals spilled out after Dinah from the cover of the forest, encroaching upon the caravan of slaves like they were spoiled goods.
Bates eyes narrowed, brows furrowing in distaste, clearly disgruntled at the sudden influx of visitors. Thankfully, it didn’t take long before the Raiders that accompanied him scrambled to defend themselves, though shock was quick to follow as Cyrus ordered them to protect... The Ambassador?
Bates blinked, repulsed as he heard the other raider begin to berate Marshal; had the man fucking lost it? A loud snort expressed his discontent, and he immediately challenged Cyrus' authority.
"Protect the cargo, they will not succeed in derailing our assignment." Bates bellowed, plumes of white vapor escaping his nostrils as he attempted to re-direct the group; he had no plans to fail his Lord, and these halfwits would not be the cause of such.
The behemoth returned his attention back to the task at hand after making his intentions clear, only for his expression to darken as he witnessed a familiar face charge straight for him. Jimmu.
He acknowledged his half brother’s presence with a bitter exclamation of his name, though he held no interest in actually entertaining a conversation with the renegade. Bates hadn't seen Jimmu since he had been disowned from the clan, but seeing the roan tagging alongside the enemy was enough to ignite the hatred within. How fucking dare he.
Without much thought, Bates went for the massive hammer at his side, striking out just as Jimmu reached him; swinging it with such fury it rivaled that of his father’s.
He had no qualms with those who decided to break from his family’s ties, but it was the mere fact that Jimmu had decided to rebel against the Forged that infuriated him. This was no longer any brother of his. |
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Post by misttheelf on Jul 24, 2017 21:56:26 GMT -6
Jimmu almost froze when the large stallion called his name, just barely managing to avoid a solid strike from their hammer, it grazing his back. "Who are you?!" Jimmu shouted, almost growling. "How do you know my name?!" He was confused and now conflicted. The mission, or this strange stallion, who somehow knew his name? Jimmu looked into the sooty stallion's eyes, seeing the fierce gaze. He warily raised his axe up, to face him. The look in his eyes was one that Jimmu knew meant that this stallion would not let him escape. The best he could hope for would be that he got some answers. Well, without being killed, that is. Not being killed would be a good thing.
Jimmu stared up at him, focusing on him alone. The others could take care of themselves. And surely the Paladin would understand. This stallion had known him. But he didn't know them, now. It was a rottenly timed opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless. And he now intended to take it. "Because I do not remember you." Jimmu finished his thoughts, and his questions, addressing the strange stallion.
Post 3 | Word Count 188
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Post by Gaybies on Jul 24, 2017 23:21:45 GMT -6
M A T E O
War-Forged Ambassador
... ...
The tension was tangible and hung over the gathered equines like a winter blanket. No one moved, no one made a sound, they all simply stared at one another, waiting for someone to make the first move. The raiders held their weapons aloft, poising them against the equine that stood before the roadblock, preparing themselves for whatever was to come. It happened quickly. The horse in question leapt from her position, dirt flew, and one of the older raiders found himself seated in the dust. Horses seemed to pour out from the trees and brush that lined the road, charging the convoy from all sides. Over the sound of hooves and cracking brush, she heard the older raider’s command.
“Protect the Ambassador”
Protect the ambassador? Ha. Like she needed any sort of special protection.
“Worry about yourself, old man.” She snapped, her tone unintentionally sharp, but they were being ambushed... after all. She would remind herself to apologize at some point later, if he lived through it anyway. Mateo’s eyes shifted quickly around the unfolding scene, her mind working situations and strategies at a rapid pace as she had long since mastered the art of improvised battle tactics. Still, she doubted very strongly any of these raiders would heed her advice, since they couldn’t even seem to heed each other’s. Bate’s voice boomed over the growing group as he turned his attention towards what sounded like a familiar face.
They were outnumbered and, though the raiders had sought to intercept a few of the charging vagabonds, there were still more heading straight for the chained slaves. But... then there was Loren. His safety was the most important thing in her mind, but the slaves were an important source of economy for the herd, losing them meant hurting so many others in the long run. Mateo glanced down at her son and the dog that was tucked tightly to his leg. Santiago was flying overhead, as he always was, and would no doubt protect the boy should anyone come close, still she wished he had one more body beside him. As she wrestled with the decision to go, that awful, whisp of a dog thing leapt out from the trees just as the vagabonds had. Legion, the gytrash that had more adopted her than she had it, formed quickly from the mist and came to stand beside the two. He, though bound to Mateo, would linger near the colt, and hopefully keep the strangers at bay.
All of this happened in a matter of seconds and as she turned at last to face those incoming horses, she was ready. Mateo skidded to a halt between herself and the first vagabond that caught her eyes, attempting to block their route to the slaves. A unicorn that had had their horn broken at some point... that became Matty’s focus. The Ambassador wasn’t one to carry a weapon, relying on the blessings the gods had bestowed upon her to help her fight her battles, and thus looked like a fairly unassuming opponent.
... ... Word Count:509 Post 2 |
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Post by Mad-Manx on Jul 25, 2017 0:29:48 GMT -6
Eshana | Mare | Vindicator
For a heartbeat the path before her seemed clear, Dinah's ruse working in tandem with their stealthy attack to deliver a blow to the unprepared Raiders. For a heartbeat, Eshana's mission appeared perfectly straightforward, her mind narrowing to encompass a single order as she barrelled from the trees, hooves pounding without hesitation to the chained slaves. For a single heartbeat, her heart raced with a mixture of pure exhilaration and pride in the cause she had taken up. That was, until the dappled mare strode to intercept her path. In a span of a moment, her world narrowed to the obstacle before her, very nearly blotting out the chaos that reigned freely around them. Eshana's pace slowed substantially, though she did not halt as she continued forward to meet her, ears flattening to her skull as she paced forward. A not altogether unfamiliar sensation was welling in her chest, a barely restrained fury that she had harboured for many a year within the confines of the Dark District rising unabashedly to the surface. Only twice before could she name a time such emotions had flooded through her, and twice before the night had ended with a Chevaliar laying slain at her hooves. Never before had she been the one to personally raise the sword to her opponent, but now, if ever, was not the time to doubt herself. Only a few strides separating them, her cyan eyes hardened with a dangerous glint as she met the mare's gaze, the pain and utter rage of years living under another's hoof taking form in the depths of her irises. "My fight is not with you," Eshana spoke clearly, calmly, though the force of a storm brewed behind her words. Her eyes still locked on the offending equine, Eshana altered her path to the chained slaves once more, allowing the mare one more chance to let her pass without bloodshed. Post 2 :: 317 words |
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Post by Jennycallie on Jul 27, 2017 18:57:13 GMT -6
Dinah | Paladin
Her aim was true, and Dinah grunted through bared teeth as she reverberated from her impact with Marshal, both horses sliding across the ground and scraping hocks and fetlocks. A jarring, painful tug on Dinah’s teke told her that she had not been successful at wresting the sword away from the other Raider, but then he would have had to be a poor soldier indeed to lose his grip on his weapon so easily. Unfortunately, that meant he would now be coming for her. Her immediate concern however was the Raider she had knocked down; his crossbow was a powerful weapon, and its user did not need to be standing to fire it.
Dinah regained her balance swiftly, intending to crowd the grey and keep him from bringing the weapon to bear- and keeping him a shield between her and the sword wielding stallion. Ears flattened, eyes flashing, Dinah began to move; then something registered in her peripheral, not movement (for the surrounding area was full of movement, of leaping, roiling bodies) but rather a lack of movement, where there should have been. Despite herself, despite knowing that it was a mistake, Dinah allowed her citrine gaze to cut briefly to the side. And then fear, fear followed and overtaken instantly in a rage, swept through the Paladin. Because that dangerous distraction was the form of one of her Vindicators, as he stopped moving, and instead attempted a conversation with the enemy, who seemed less intent on conversation than he did on burying a hammer in Jimmu’s spine.
“JIMMU,” Dinah roared, her eyes blazing, “STICK TO THE GODS DAMNED PLAN, AND MOVE!” And even as she shouted her orders, Dinah had returned her attention to her own fight, but that lapse had been enough, and Dinah didn’t have any time to dodge or brace herself as Cyrus slammed into her. Her breath exploded from her in a hiss, painful and burning as it was ripped from her protesting lungs, but her awareness focused not on the impact but on the glittering, cruelly edged sword that had swung over her head.
Dinah did not hesitate, did not speak, did not think. Wedged as she was between two enemies, her blood thundering in her ears and the cries of others a muted accompaniment, Dinah merely reacted. Reacted, as she had been trained to, all those years ago. When she fought not for justice, but for her own life- and later, her child’s as well. Without so much as a thought, Dinah tapped into her reserve of Invisibility even as she hunkered low, front legs buckling as she feinted in one direction before darting away again, her flashing teeth attempting to rake Cyrus’ side as she slid away. Not one to leave a weapon lying around, Dinah reached without looking for her whip, while simultaneously lashing out with a hind hoof, an attempt to break Marshal’s crossbow as she opened up a dangerous distance between herself and the weapon once more.
Post 3 | 504 words
TLDR Dinah gets hit by Cyrus, ducks low and feints in one direction before moving the other while using her Invisibility blessing to make herself harder to see. In daylight she will not be truly invisible, but she will be harder to track and see. She attempts to bite Cyrus as she moves past him, and also attempts to kick Marshal's crossbow!
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Post by songsofinfinity on Jul 30, 2017 13:31:52 GMT -6
L O R E N C I O War-Forged | Kindling Everything exploded into chaos as Lorencio peeked around his mother. The dark appaloosa mare jumped forward, attacking one of the raiders, as other horses jumped out from the sides and ran towards the slaves traveling with them. He stumbled back from his mother, swinging his head as he tried to take in everything at once. Should he stay in the middle of the road? Should he run into the trees? He looked to his mother, but she was already moving, darting towards a unicorn mare with a broken horn.
The big raider Bates was fighting too. Everything had happened so quickly, and as his mom ran to protect the slaves from the unicorn, Lorencio found himself alone in the middle of the road with only Scorch at his side.
Or, not quite alone. His mom's new dog appeared near him, and her eagle soared overhead. Still he felt vulnerable. He glanced around and darted for the side of the road, where hopefully he could stay unnoticed.
It didn't quite go as planned. In his run to the side of the road he found himself almost in the middle of a fight. The leader of the attackers, the spotted mare, was fighting two of the raiders. It wasn't going well for her, but even as he stopped she vanished. Right in front of his eyes.
Shouting behind him got louder and he remembered that he didn't have time to stop and stare. He forced himself back into motion, his hooves clattering across the old stones of the road until he was off to the side, away from the fighting. There, he jumped behind a tree and watched, eyes wide, as the fight swirled around the slaves.
His mom was still facing off with the unicorn mare, the one with the broken horn, and he held his breath, praying that she wouldn't be hurt. Wait... broken horn? Something in his memory stirred, and he realized why that seemed familiar. The horse who'd brought him back to Skeldr Town when he'd been lost, Ithran, had told him to watch for her.
He didn't know what to do, now that he recognized her. And the spotted leader, she had to be the other horse Ithran had mentioned! But how could he use that? He didn't know. Maybe it would help, later. For now, though, he would stay here behind the tree and hope nobody saw him.
Word Count: 417 | Post Count: 2 |
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Post by Gaybies on Jul 31, 2017 12:49:37 GMT -6
M A T E O
War-Forged Ambassador
......
Some part of the Ambassador felt bad for leaving her son to his own devices, but another trusted him enough to figure something out for himself. This wasn’t the first terrifying situation he’d been in, unfortunately, and at least this time he had more guards than before. Her gaze shifted away from the incoming unicorn for the briefest of seconds as she saw her son dart towards the tree, thankful to see Legion hot on his heels and Santi taking up a perch above his head. If anyone went for him, well, they’d be there.
She shifted and returned her gaze to the incoming mare. She saw the pain, the fury, and the memories that blazed in her eyes. Mateo wasn’t an empath, by no means, but her time as a diplomat had certainly given her the skills to read others. A part of her felt for the mare, wondered what she had been through for such things to burn in her gaze as they did, but she was still the enemy now. Ears would flick forward at the mare’s words... No, perhaps it wasn’t, perhaps the two of them, had it been different circumstances, would’ve gotten along just fine, but Ambassador or not, she felt she had a duty to protect the livelihood of her herd.
As the struggles between the other horses continued, the shouts of the strange mare, the ring of hammers and blades as they cut through the air, Mateo once more moved to intercept the oncoming unicorn.
“If not with me, then who?” She replied her tone light and almost playful. She’d never been a very serious and most certainly wasn’t one to be fearful. She might as well make the best of what had the potential to be a good brawl.
With the distance between the two down to a few short strides, Mateo smiled. A second version of her, fully tangible and moving of what appeared to be its own volition appeared beside the ambassador, a dappled defense against the oncoming mare.
... ... Word Count:339 Post 3 |
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Post by MusicalMagpie on Jul 31, 2017 14:18:05 GMT -6
Marshal | Raider
Blood roared in his ears as the solo attack turned into a full assault. Gods, he was getting too old for this game. Growling as Dinah danced too near for a clean shot, he tried giving standing up a try, but he couldn't get a purchase on the broken and clumpy ground. A shout from a fellow raider rang.
"Get up, you imbecile!"
Somehow he felt that was directed at him. Marshal threw his weight forward and with a groaning roar threw back. "Oh fuck off, Cyrus!" Marshal was halfway to standing when the glint of steel caught his eye. He had to be careful of friendlies as well as the attacking vagabonds. Chaos was erupting on all sides, but Marshal focused solely on the dark horse between him and Cyrus. The bay raider landed a hit and had swung with his short sword. Marshal readied the crossbow again, distance regained. The figure suddenly became a mostly translucent fuzz, ducking down and away from the two raiders. Not exactly a noticeably calculated move, but more like raw instinct.
The voice of reason in Marshal's head made note of the invisibility, perhaps an imbued trinket. The rest likely had one as well. The inner voice did not express the same as he did out loud. As Dinah became harder to track the old raider was staring down the sight of the crossbow. "Damn ghost bullshi-" The grey horse had begun to hiss loudly, proclaiming his distaste, but was cut off when the vague form of a hoof caught the underside of the crossbow. The hit pushed the weapon back against the raider's face and caused it to misfire, sending a bolt streaking into the woods. A wild sort of noise escaped the old stallion. When fired, the barrel had been against his cheek and the string springing forward sheered skin and flesh from the face of the raider. Adrenaline from the fight now mixed with shock made for a fearless mindset. A portion of his vision started to get blurry and tinged with red while reloading another bolt.
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Word Count - 347
-1 Bolt
19 Left
I once had my elbow skinned by a recurve string. Crossbows are way stronger in the string action, RIP Marshal's face.
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Post by LaBelleAnni on Jul 31, 2017 15:50:59 GMT -6
In the heat of battle the old horse ignored Bates' comment, as well as the others. There would have been no point to reply while in the midst of attack. It however made him internally chuckle about how the corrected him, understanding that what he commanded and said got under their skins. He may have been wrong to order the protection of the Ambassador, though in the long run they would need her alive, as well as her child. No matter how much he despised the brat, he had a duty to escort and protect them in the dangers of the Vagabond-infested forests. In the end he was not wrong in his own eyes, merely just shifting priorities. At the moment though, his own priorities were not to protect or round any other horses up, no. His priority was to take down the leader, his own duty. To take down a Vagabond would always be the number one priority for him.
Soon in the midst of the fight, his sword swiftly swung downwards, the metal clanking against... the ground? The mare was too quick, she dodged the hit. In turn, he felt a scrape of teeth against his side, ripping skin from over his flesh. He roared in retaliation, rearing up. Why that little Digend lover... From what he could see at that moment, she disappeared beyond to his left side, swiping at his weaker side. His hooves slammed against the ground, moving to turn and find where she was. He lifted his sword back up once more, looking around the area to find her. The last time he saw a sign of her was when Marshal's crossbow was kicked away, sending a bolt to graze the poor soul's face. Cyrus growled, storming after the direction of where the mare went. The only way anyone would catch her would be if they could see her. The old horse huffed out a breath as he ran across, glancing to the side to check on the rest of the group. For almost every ally there was a vagabond to counter them.
The biggest decision he could make would be to decide whether or not to go keep the slaves in line, or to chase the mare that he couldn't even see. He thought back to the way she attacked them first, tossing dirt in their direction to blind them. The idea, no matter how much he disagreed with the dirty tactics of the vagabonds, it had a chance to work against them. Such a thought forced him to halt, allowing his hooves to scrape into the dirt as he slowed immediately. Following the drastic stop, he turned and kicked up dirt in the air, shoving it up with his back hooves. A cloud of dirt tossed into the air, settling down soon after. Wherever it settled would determine the placement of the mare.
After that, he decided it best to help those in need, no matter how idiotic they seemed in battle. His pace picked up, moving towards the carted slaves. "Aim at the enemy." He shouted out amidst the chaos, wanting to laugh to himself had he not been tackling an important task. Surely the dolt would need medical attention, though the old stallion at least hoped that, for the sake of the battle, Marshal didn't suffer the same fate that Cyrus had. He moved as quickly as he could, storming towards the others to assist in battle.
WC: 577 | Post #3
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Post by Mad-Manx on Jul 31, 2017 16:07:58 GMT -6
Eshana | Mare | Vindicator
Her attempt to avoid confrontation with the dappled mare went unheeded, her opponent pacing steadily out to meet her new direction. Already Eshana's mind was whirling, and in her peripheral vision she sought out anything that might help her before her gaze landed on the large Raider that was currently going head to head with Jimmu. In the same moment she grimly noted the seemingly tangible apparition that had appeared from thin air at her enemy's side. "Perfect", she thought sarcastically, although already her mind and body were preparing for what was to come. "Those that would put a price on another's life," Eshana spoke aloud with force as she nearly succeeded in closing the distance between their bodies, wholeheartedly irritated by the mare's playfulness. She had little time to dwell on her opponent's demeanor, however, as the space between them closed, forcing a decision. With a powerful kick of her hind legs she launched herself forward, in that same moment fixating what she could spare of her gaze on the gigantic Raider stallion she had spotted earlier, envisioning every spot and scar across his body as she tapped into the blessing Argus' had gifted her with. In the split second it took for her to complete her leap, her body began to morph, growing larger, taller, and far heavier than her natural physique. It was an unfamiliar body, but even now the normally little mare could feel the power and weight that existed behind it. Eshana's attention once again turned solely to the individual blocking her path, eyes narrowing as she prepared for the attack. It was not with hooves or teeth that she struck out with, but rather with the sheer momentum and force behind her new appearance. Tucking her head down, Eshana angled herself so the full force of her landing would strike the original mare in her chest and shoulder, intending to catch her off balance. Post 3 :: 320 words |
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Post by RusticForrest on Aug 7, 2017 13:01:08 GMT -6
"Q"
[ Vagabond | Vindicator ]
Chaos erupted around the barrier as the two sides clashed, and Q took his time in picking his opponent. They would expect a frontward attack, something straight forward, detrimental to their front lines. So, he reserved to wait, to watch, to strike when he had prime opportunity. His brown gaze missed little as he observed the happenings. It was as a buckskin stallion, whose nose was beginning to grey, betraying the age of his body, broke away from a battle with Dinah, that Q decided to take his chance. Invoking the medallion that Dinah had provided each of them, his form began to shimmer, though flames and smoke betrayed his position more than he would have liked. Leaping from his position, a roaring ball of flame was launched to intercept the stallion as he approached the line of slaves.
The Vindicator made it past many with the use of the medallion, close enough to draw close to the bound equines. Rage flickered unadulterated behind his single eye, and as he became visible, Q aimed another ball of flame after the first, aware of the sword glinting at the other horse's side. Halting to keep beyond it's reach, Q's shoulder's hunched, and an animistic snarl drew its way across his muzzle. Slavery was foul, demented, and archaic. He took such stances on few matters, but on this, he held firm. For him, it was personal.
Post: 2
WC: 235 |
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Post by PeculiarVixen on Aug 7, 2017 16:43:32 GMT -6
Frey stood still watching the commotion unfold, Dinah was in battle with the one Raider while her other comrades were scattered about either fighting or trying to free the slaves. She stayed hidden from view 'for all those raiders know, there's only the four of us.. not five' her thoughts raced with every move, the goal was to sneak past while they stayed distracted.
She weaved among the group avoiding back slashes and misses, as Freya passed Q she purposefully nudged him to catch his attention "Keep him distracted, I got the slaves"
Though the medallion that hung around her neck, it's power started to falter as she approached the captive equines. Quickly she used her telekinesis to un-shackle their binds, but her medallion ran out of power before she could finish.
"And the show just got better folks, hope you have fun" she said with a chuckle to herself before breaking the locks on the chains. Now that she was visible, shortly they'd notice her and attack but she pressed herself harder to finish the task at hand, the one goal they all would risk their lives for.. a slave free world. 'They're out there fighting while you hid in the shadows, what kind of Vindica-'
-CLANK-
(If I need to fix something let me know!)
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Post #2
WC: 213
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Post by LaBelleAnni on Aug 8, 2017 22:29:29 GMT -6
His eyes set on the slaves before him, focusing on them more than anything. The leader had disappeared without a trace, and surely he wouldn't be able to get to her soon enough. As he traveled however, he noticed something from the corner of his eye. He stomped against the ground, coming to a quick stop. Dirt kicked up from the ground as he watched the flames swiftly pass by him. The heat of it burned his muzzle. He reared up, moving his body to face another ball of flames heading in his direction. This time however, it carved across the right side of him, singing the flesh on his shoulder. He roared out in anger, landing his hooves heavily against the ground. Pain was not in the question for now, only vengeance.
Cyrus eyed the younger stallion, beginning to bolt towards him, his sword raised. Heavy breaths pushed from his mouth and nostrils. Just as he approached the younger stallion, he began to bring his sword down, swiping in his direction. He held nothing back, especially for the trash in front of him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, pushing the agonizing pain he should have been feeling aside. There was no time for reacting to such a wound, especially with the enemy in front of them. Voices around him blurred as he focused on the task at hand, the trash that chose to cross his path.
The one sound that echoed out from the noise of fighting however was the clank of chains, a reminder that the slaves needed to be rounded up. His focus was knocked off from the equine in front of him. He pulled his sword back to his side, glancing from the stallion in front of him, to the freed slaves. They were going to lose this fight. He could not accept this. The elder let out a frustrated growl, rushing forward to clash against the burnt buckskin, wanting to throw the enemy off as soon as possible. Sharp breaths drew in the cold air that burned his lungs almost as much as the flames from before singed his skin. He wanted to quickly win this fight, to chase the slaves and make sure they didn't leave, though there were two choices. Either fight the enemy, or grab the slaves and retreat, and he was not about to back down from a fight.
WC: 398 | Post # 4
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Post by Jennycallie on Aug 11, 2017 1:14:02 GMT -6
Dinah | Paladin
Dinah’s hooves connected solidly with the crossbow, and she felt the wood give way before a sudden twang vibrated the air overhead, the bolt vanishing into the woods. A strangled hissing grunt told the Paladin that the erstwhile bolt had made contact; a sharp turn of her head showed her that it was the Raider who had been grazed, blood already sheeting down his face as he attempted to load a second shot. Not wanting to be around when he did, Dinah darted to the side, putting the wagon between herself on Marshal. In the chaos, she did not notice the sprinkling of dirt that settled over her coat, tossed by Cyrus. For a moment it outlined her form as she paused, sharp eyes cutting to the forest and noting with shock the huddled white form of Lorencio. Dinah inhaled sharply, hesitating for the first time as she stared at the child. Scruffy and grey, and mottled with brown spots… he could have been Magdalene. For a moment, was Magdalene. Alone, left behind in a dark forest, surrounded by violence not of her own creation-
A sudden loud clank dragged Dinah from her reveries, and the Paladin blew out an explosive breath, teeth clenched over the scream of fury she would not utter. Magdalene was gone, and this foal was not her; and moreso, he was not alone. His mother was near (though she abandoned him to fight against the vagabonds, apparently valuing slavery over her child’s safety) and Dinah could spare no more time for him. Her eyes squinted against the blazing light of Q’s fireballs, Dinah bared her teeth and leaped to the slaves Freya had not yet freed.
“GO,” Dinah shouted at Freya, too visible a target now that her amulet had worn off. “FOLLOW HER,” Dinah added to the slaves Freya had freed. “NOW!” Dinah reared, then slammed her hooves down on the chains, bending the locking mechanisms. She reared and struck again, warping the locks further. Something caught her eye, and the Paladin glanced at Jimmu, still standing listlessly and apparently attempting conversation with the massive Raider while Q and Eshana risked their lives, distracting the Raiders. “JIMMU, FUCKING MOVE,” Dinah bellowed, furious that she had to repeat herself, that Jimmu risked himself and the others. For a third time, Dinah’s hooves connected, and the locks screeched, breaking apart enough that the two slaves were able to shake them off. “THE OWL WILL GUIDE YOU,” Dinah yelled at them over the din, watching as they vanished into the night. It would be up to them if they could manage to find and follow Oren to the Vindicator’s camp.
The Paladin, still unaware of the dust lining her form, cast a quick eye over the scene. It was time to go. They’d freed most of the slaves- all, if Eshana could get past Mateo- and the Raiders were growing more angry and dangerous. Time to be gone indeed. Dinah flung up her head and whistled sharp and piercingly, the call for “fall back”, and then she turned and leaped away, intending to vanish into the forest.
526 words
Feel free to send a hit/weapon Dinah's way as she retreats, especially from poor Marshal! I don't mind her taking a non-lethal injury. c:
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Post by Callousal on Aug 11, 2017 22:26:23 GMT -6
tagged: cyrus , jimmu, marshal 682 words
The grimace that had been previously etched into Bates’ jawline was replaced with a smirk at the question. Who was he? The bloody bastard that had the courage to speak to him in such a manner? Bates chuffed, the overly amiable smile remaining plastered to his face as he spoke. "As of current, I'm someone that wants you dead," he growled, his voice low and menacing as he advanced toward Jimmu, axe still gripped firmly in his telekinesis. "You will remember me after this though, I promise."
A primal bellow rasped out of his throat as he swung his weapon at the roan, with the intent to take his head from his neck. Albeit, he swung a little too fast and the steel bit into the crest of his opponent instead.
With a heave Bates raised his axe again, re-positioning himself in order to hack the weapon straight into Jimmu’s skull; but something stopped him, catching movement in the corner of his eye and watching Marshal misfire a bolt upward, tearing the skin from his face. The draft reversed a few paces away from Jimmu, making sure he was well out of reach before eyeing the elder from afar, relieved to see that it hadn't jaded the stallion's will to fight.
About to return to his quarrel with Jimmu, Bates found himself once again distracted, suddenly seeing... himself? It earned a double take from the draft, gawking at the sight for a few seconds, finally having to acknowledge how truly massive he was. He was conflicted on whether to feel flattered or offended that someone had chosen his being to shift into, though the changeling had certainly opened his eyes on his appearance to others. He allowed a snort to leave his lips, the image of himself fighting Mateo somehow managing to amuse the draft.
Though the expression soon drained from his face, and his core tightened as he heard the distinct clatter of chains, followed by voices barking out orders. Anger was fuming from the draft’s nostrils, though this time the threat of failing the mission fueled him into a sprint -an action that the stallion almost never resorted to due to how physically draining it was-. He held his axe beside him as he ran, turning to look back at Jimmu for a split second before charging right for the dark mare that broke the shackles. He stopped a stride away from her before growling in defeat; he could not - no, he would not fight her when there were more important targets to be had, their cargo was getting away.
Bates grabbed at the thick twine that was wrapped around his shoulder, swinging the rope and flinging it over the slave he deemed to be most valuable. As the rope grasped ahold of the mare’s neck, Bates spared no moment to pull her up, though she merely ran in the opposite direction with yet more determination. He gritted his teeth, his grip on the rope slipping, attempting to keep her under control but failing miserably. In an act of desperation, he gripped the rope even tighter, focusing on the mare on the other end before raising the rope with all of his strength and slamming her to the ground. The rope had frayed in the act, but thankfully she was too stunned to get up. Bates approached the mare, who was now gasping for breath, looking down at the fringed rope and trying to fix it with yet another strand of twine.
His chest heaved, clearly tired, but a subtle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, glad the event hadn’t been an entire failure after all, at least, not for him. He watched as most of the slaves stumbled into a run, a few straggling behind, and narrowed his eyes at Cyrus who was compromising their mission for a fight.
“Stand down and grab one of the fucking drudges!” Bates called out to Cyrus, since he was the only one capable of holding down a slave, the others either too weak or wounded to intercept, yet the raider had opted to fight a lowlander instead of containing the merchandise, the damned fool.
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