the Rift

Bring it! (Ilios x Rohan)

Ilios Posts: 200
Dragon's Throat Informant atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 15 :: 4 (Frostfall) HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Isabella :: Common Rougarou :: Flame Parelia
He wanted to get in a spar before the snow set in; he could tell Frostfall was upon Helovia. He needed to loosen himself up, wear off the angst that had dug itself deep into his heart. His legs felt light, but his brain was heavy; weighed down with to many thoughts. Blood and pain always helped to chip away extra thoughts. His muscles bulged under his golden and teal pelt with anticipation. The colt was now a stallion, having just turned three. He could feel the power rippling under his coat. 'If only I was experienced as I am young.' A snort blew from his tender muzzle as he surveyed the Thistle meadow. So many things had happened to him here, that he was drawn to the place. Bright silver eyes sought out the best place to hold the spar. He flexed and eased his muscles, warming them up. That was the perk to starting a fight; you got to warm up brace yourself. A grim smile touched his face as he took in the weak sun light and the still air. His heart started to pick up it's normal rhythm, Lub-dub, Lub-dub. The muscle pounded adrenaline and testosterone through his system as he readied his mind. Silver eyes closed as he tried to clear the distractions away.

After a few breathes the stallion broke the silence around him. His voice rang out powerful and demanding, "I, Ilios, wish to spar, come." It was simple, a polite, challenge to any in the area. He tossed his horned head in aggravation pawing at the ground to further the challenge. Ilios was sure to keep his wings pulled tight to his body as he waited for another to appear. Would they burst forth and attack or would they stop and introduce themselves like he had? He braced ears pricked, nostrils flaring, and eyes sharp. He was anxious to prove himself and let out all of his pent up testosterone.

Words;; 328
OOC/Tags;;  @Rohan
 0/3 Attacks | 0/1 Defense 
Setting: Set in the thistle meadow before any snow fall, chilly, no wind, mid-day
Recap: Ilios finds a good spot then stops to collect his thoughts, warm his muscles up, and pump himself up. Then he calls out for someone to come spar him.
Feel free to start right off!
Dear father, In my heart I know I failed you, but you left me here alone
/ image
You must be true to your heart..
[Image: silver_dreamer_mist_by_cantatus_promise-d8flci6.gif] [Image: mwaCGuX.gif]
Tag me

Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all,
but lend me your heart—
From the World’s Edge the stallion had wandered, his patrol of the foggy borders extending to breach out past his forested herd land, long legs carrying him at a measured two-beat rhythm. The miles have passed steadily beneath pale hooves, his eyes seemingly glazed over while thought obscures vision, and his body becomes a numbed and hollowed harbor for these musings. It isn’t until the crystal splash of water that he is roused from his daze, icy droplets spraying upwards to dampen his thick hide while he crosses the shallow stream of the—

—the Thistle Meadow.

Of course it would be here (of all places!) that he would wander to.

The Warlander’s lips twist into an irritable scowl. His mind urges him to turn—to run—but his body does not move; he is frozen, trapped, with his green eyes left drifting over the familiar landscape. Invariably his attention is drawn to that tree, trailing down the naked branches to the dark trunk, following the grain of the bark to its roots—and, ultimately, to the body that rests beneath them. Rohan remembers digging away at the ground, soft with the spring dew, to shape the earthen grave; he remembers her face, her tears, the way her lashes had fluttered, and her lips had trembled…

Huffing a growl, he shakes his antlered head, looking pointedly away from that core of memories; he mustn’t dwell on them now. He can’t.

It is the voice of a stranger that delivers him, distracts him with an anchor of diversion, and Rohan clings to it readily. Forcing his thoughts to flee behind him (and praying that they will die there), the Warlander follows the stranger’s trail. Fortunately, the winged stallion is not hard to locate, and it isn’t long before Rohan finds himself creeping behind his new opponent. Not caring to evaluate or think much through anything now, he charges suddenly forward. Closing the distance between them, he swings his head to the side as he comes up behind the other and runs past Ilios’ right, the points of his antlers seeking to pierce, graze, or lacerate flesh.

Rohan does not stop his momentum until he has passed Ilios, the length of his tail brushing the ground as he spins to face the other stallion directly. “I’ll be happy to oblige,” he says with a roguish twist of his lips, “my name is Rohan.”

Attack: 1/3
WC: 400
Summary: Rohan runs up behind Ilios and swings his antlers while he keeps running, hoping to graze the skin along Ilios' right side.
@Ilios | image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Ilios defaults to Rohan. Rohan earns 0.5 VP
 HP: 1100

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