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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 21:40:45 GMT -6
Muiris - War-Forged Raider -
The world seemed to freeze around the roan stallion, the commotion now too much for him to handle. The snow floated by in slow motion, the sounds of battle behind him echoing and growing soft. Out of no where, the pegasus he had just saved was attacked once more, but he found himself unable to move. Luckily, the shouting stallion from before had decided to step in, saving nearly them both. His ears flicked at the sound of Fox's cry, pulling him out of his haze and causing him to whip around to face her. His eyes went wide at the sight of dozens of cultists pouring from their surroundings, snow drift kicking up from behind their hooves as they charged toward the disoriented group. Suddenly, the moment kicked back into full force, hitting the stallion's chest like lightning. They all could stand around and wait for them to come to them.. or.. they could attack them now. Muiris chose the latter. With a hoarse shout ripping from his throat, he dug his spiked hooves into the ground and launched at the swarming group of cultists.
Muiris suddenly found himself in the middle of two to three of them- the number he couldnt tell in the midst of his battle-lust rage. His hooves flailed out, catching a cultist right in the shoulder and shoving them into another who had tried to come up around him. They both tumbled to the ground, a sickening crunch sounding from the dark stallion's ribs when his buddy fell on top of him. They both scrambled back to their hooves, ready to face the roaned draft again. The one with the shattered ribs tried to lunge, but found himself yelping in pain and doubling over into the snow. The other glanced from Muiris to his friend, and then turned around to run in a loss of bravery. Muiris watched him go with a smirk on his lips, a chuckle wiggling up his throat. What a moron.
Distracted by the sight of the fleeing cultist, another enemy took advantage, tackling the stallion from the side. Muiris reached around to snap at him, his teeth grasping only air as the two crumbled to the ground. This cultist was a draft as well, almost as large as Muiris himself, and was stronger.. he had the raider pinned to the ground on his side, a sharp hoof digging into his neck. Muiris lashed and flailed, but could not reach around to grab him. He started gasping for air, the edges of his vision growing blurry and dark. In one last-ditch effort, he kicked with his hind leg at the cultist, catching his back hoof in the blow. But that only made it worse. Now off balance, the offending stallion leaned more onto his neck for support.
Good goin, dumbass.
Word Count: 470 | Post #9 |
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Post by Jennycallie on Mar 7, 2016 2:52:55 GMT -6
Abram | Only slightly more of a fool than Fox
Abram sped after the chestnut War Forged, only the best of intentions in his Seroran heart-
Did she just look and him and speed up?
Ungrateful barbaric daughter of a mangy-
Less than charitable thoughts on War Forged and mares streaming through his head, Abram plunged doggedly after Fox, but she was so much swifter, so much more adept at traversing this thrice cursed terrain. Indeed the spotted mare managed to pull ahead of him, and thus Abram was only able to witness in horror as the mare -obviously not one of the fabled Valkyries- engaged, and was struck down. Abram paused for a moment, shock freezing his body as effectively as, well, the frost, and then he leaped in to motion again. He would save her, he would! It would not be Serora's fault the War Forged lost one of their own to the Cultists, not if he could help it.
Thus it was that ever the diplomat, Abram was able to slam in to the Cultist that was tracking the retreating Fox, and by some miracle of Alya it was Abram who kept his hooves.
"Don't run from them!" Abram shouted to Fox. "If you run, it's all-" but his voice was abruptly choked as a cultist materialized from the shadows and slammed him down in to the snow.
The best of intentions, indeed.
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Post by tarriedsea on Mar 22, 2016 11:25:45 GMT -6
Once she reached the woods she turned around and registered what happened. Cultists were going down around them, against the odds the invaders were losing, and they knew it. Kaia is with us, indeed. My own mistake, I believed I'd be the linchpin. She snorted. Kaia had a sense of humor.
And the handsome Seroran stallion had come after the Lusitano mare after all. But he suffered a similar fate, a whuff as the snow collapsed under him. Shit. At that moment the Cultist turned to aid another fighting against Kell & Muiris, and Fox scrambled out of the trees. She grabbed Abram by the crest and, limping, dragged him a few feet into the woods, out of immediate sight.
"If you're injured, we need to leave," she hissed into his ear. "You're no good as dead weight for your group."
She nudged him, hardly giving him time to respond. Adrenaline & nervous energy were making her talk at the speed of light.
"The rest will finish them off. Victory is ours. But you're a stranger here. I can show you where you can stay tonight."
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Post by Jennycallie on Mar 24, 2016 12:40:41 GMT -6
Abram | Bondmate
For an eternity of a second, darkness. But not the soothing, tranquil darkness of sleep or even unconsciousness; instead it was a roiling, shifting sort of darkness that kept Abram off-balance, uneasy.
Then everything was suddenly, blindingly white. Abram lifted his head and peered around blearily, ice crystals rimming his eyes and creating dazzling fractals of light everywhere he looked. Was he dead? Was this death, an endless drag through a snowy wood? Surely he had not failed Alya so terribly, to have earned such a fate.
His movement arrested suddenly, and a face loomed in to view, flooding Abram's nostrils with the undeniable scent of female. The brown-ish face was making sounds, but Abram was damned if he could decipher them.
"Alya?" he croaked, convinced that the mare must be speaking the God's tongue. A shower of snow fell off the mare on to Abram's face, and his mind suddenly gave a lurch of understanding. Snow, cold, Onea- a brown mare-
"Kaia?" he gasped, peering in horror up at Fox. He had died in Kaia's lands, not Alya's... was this to be his eternity? "Yeshua is going to kill me," Abram told 'Kaia' gravely. And then he passed out.
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Annnd that's it for Abram! Now Fox gets to babysit him all night, lucky Fox hehe
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Post by tarriedsea on Mar 25, 2016 14:47:23 GMT -6
Her urgency blinded her to the fact that Abram was, in fact, only half conscious. Whoops. What did he whisper? "Kaia"? She blew hot air and nosed him in the face. "No, brother. The gods haven't taken you yet." If the battle beyond the trees wasn't so serious, she would've laughed. But she had a greater issue at hand: try to move him, or stay until he regained consciousness. He was almost a hand larger than her- if he were a youngling or pony she'd hoist him onto her back, but otherwise she couldn't be able to carry him. Fox decided to stay with the stallion. She moved deeper into the woods, gently pulling the Seroran with her, praying rocks wouldn't scar his beautiful light hide. A few feet back, behind a large pine, and they were hidden well enough. She prayed that Muiris or Kell had watched the scene, and understood what was happening. She wasn't about to walk into the battle again just to tell them her whereabouts. Her own shoulder ached. In the events, she had forgotten about her own injury. Grunting, she laid beside the stallion and thanked Kaia for her former training as a Medic. She watched him breathe, counting. I hope I haven't broken any Seroran cultural standards by moving him. Embarrassed, she realized how she just manhandled him, dragging him into the woods, pushing him with her nose. She hoped he was too out of it to notice. Such a strange feeling, to be next to an entirely different culture. The way his mane was cut straight across while hers ran long and loose; his light-haired pelt while hers resembled a scruffy pony. She sighed, snuggling close to him to share her body heat. "Okay, my friend, we'll wait here until you feel better. Then we'll head somewhere safe."--- thus ends Fox in her first chapter  |
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2016 19:01:54 GMT -6
(Im going to throw in one more post like a loser since hes one post away from 10 LMAO)
Muiris
- War-Forged Raider -
Muiris used the off-balance of his attack to his advantage, despite it cutting of his ability to breath. He bit down on his tongue, holding his breath to keep himself from trying to suck in air that wasnt there, and flung his front hooves in the direction of the cultist's jaw. After much flailing, his hoof finally connected, sending the other draft back a few steps, giving the roaned stallion a chance to clumsily scramble to his hooves. His breathing was ragged, littered with coughs as his lungs remembered the feeling of the sharp, brisk cold air. He didnt have much time to recover, though, as the other stallion was quickly charging at him once more. Muiris growled, his voice scratchy from the assault, and charged at him head-on. The two collided, hooves scraping at anything they could reach, teeth nabbing at neck and hair. Unlike Muiris, who had been smart enough to tie his hair up, this particular stallion allowed his to stay down. Muiris took the chance, grabbing a hold of a lock of his dark hair, and whipped his head into the ground, slamming the poor stallion's muzzle into a clod of ice that had been kicked up from the scuffle.
Blood stained the snow, dripping across the stallion's forehead. Muiris noticed a small twitch in the stallion's ear, but nothing followed. He leaned his head down, his muzzle brushing the other stallion's forelock from his eyes. They stared back at him, cold and lifeless. Muiris snorted, a small smile tickling his lips.
Good.
He turned around, his red gaze jumping from battle to battle. Both War-Forged and Serora fought bravely though the harsh snow, and he would not stand idly after only one victory. With enough force to shake the earth, he lept back into battle, leaving behind the bleeding body of his foe.
Word Count: 308 | Post #10 |
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