the Rift

Invasion Round One :: Cluster Four

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
You have 72 hours to respond to this round. Before the round is over, HERD LEADS can send cluster change request to the OFFICIAL account.

Further information can be found in the Detailed Rules under the Chaos Style invasion section.


Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time

Golden eyes watched from the vantage point of the Grey, noting characteristics about each Foothills resident that showed up. The Dauntless knew they were standing to defend their home, but they were standing on coward-encouraged bravery. Among the scoffers, Jackal was not to be seen. Fury raged inside of Archibald in that moment, the words of the Foothills members falling deaf on his ears. Jackal had been so full of piss and vinegar to challenge his leadership, and now he was not standing in his own herd’s front lines. Today, Archibald finally understood the cowardice of the King of Thieves. Juxtaposed, Archibald felt no mercy for the herd members he was going to mow down. Each of them deserved to fall under the hooves and prowess of the Grey for their loyalty to a boy and his fucking reptile, their idiocy would be a message to all those that listened to the red snowflake’s words—words that meant nothing, words that veiled his true drive for this herd. Today, the Foothills will know that they should have stayed loyal to him and his brothers.

With Loretta still snarling beside him and his body still tensed and prepared for battle, Archibald chose his target, the buckskin mare that moved to the front of the lines. Yes, Archibald felt very pleased with his choice and flashed Loretta an image of blood and snapping jaws. Knowing her duty, Loretta sprinted ahead, eyes dead set on the buckskin mare. Archibald followed his companion, hooves pounding into the ground with incredible force. His large body was slower, but he was an imposing force when closing the distance on a battle field. The sun danced behind him, warming his back and the earth under his hooves, but the sun was not warming fast enough. Dew bounced with each driving stride the draft took, wetting the ends of his flawless white feathers and making them snap around. The dew, however, was not enough to loosen his footing like the rain and mud had been in his battles against Locket and Jackal. Might and power surged through Archibald’s muscles as he ran towards his opponent with his neck curled, chin tucked, and ears pinned flat against his skin. Feeling Loretta’s anticipation rise as the bitch sprinted towards AILITH, Archibald gave her the signal she had been waiting for. A simple mental, “go” was all she needed. Skidding to a stop, Loretta pinned her eyes on AILITH and sent her magic flying.

Invisible tendrils of life-sucking force spewed from Loretta’s angry body. The red malamute snarled and pinned her ears back, tail stiffening to stand straight in the air behind her dominantly and aggressively. She felt victorious in this moment, if simply only for fighting in this war. Archibald had not let her be a part of the Qian Invasion of the Edge, but now this was her fight just as much as it was her bonded’s. Archibald moved past Loretta, still at a gallop, heading straight towards AILITH, who he now hoped was feeling the effects of his companion’s time slip magic. Hopefully, by turning her into an infant again mentally, she would stay in her place, dazed and confused.

As he neared her, Archibald moved his body slightly to the right, rolling his shoulder to try and throw it into her chest, hopefully landing just right of the point of her sternum. While attacking, his ears still stayed pinned defensively, and his legs splayed some, closing in to a stop. Bulging muscles in his hindquarters tightened further and he focused his weight backwards, lowering his center of balance to strike out with his right fore-hoof to hopefully strike a blow on AILITH’s front right cannon. Fluidly with his attempted cannon attack, Archibald curled his neck inwards towards AILITH, teeth aiming to snap over her withers or back. Archibald needed to keep her close, to overpower her with everything he had. She was smaller, lither than him, surely able to outrun him if she chose to run away like a yellow-belly. Archibald focused on his power, knowing his muscle mass and strength were great.

Archibald, in these moments, was only focused on one thing: the demise of these defenders.

[WC: 709 | Buffs: Endure and Swift | Magic: 0/2 | Companion: 1/2 | Attacking: AILITH | Defense: Ears pinned and balance focused on his hind legs. | Loretta uses her magic TIME SLIP. Archibald runs at AILITH hoping to kick her right front cannon, throw his shoulder into her chest, and bite at her withers or back. ]

The world is a scary place
Now that you've woken up the demon in me

Image Credits

Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.

please tag me

Tharos Posts: 37
Banned atk: 5 | def: 8 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hands :: 9 years old HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE

You're only North Star I would follow this far...

Actions | "Speech" | Thoughts

Adrenaline rushed through Tharos's body as the attackers broke into gallops, making their way down into the territory. So it begins... Tharos thought as he noticed the battle had broken into clusters. The Starstrider broke into a gallop as three opponents came towards himself and Ailith. He pinpointed a black overo and his ears pinned against his head as the stallion broke into a thundering gallop. His cream-stained tail streamed out behind him as he raised it like a banner and his feathered legs blurred with the motion. Silver eyes burned with a metallic hate as the stud raced to close the distance.


The stallion knew he couldn't completely lose control of his rage or the battle was already lost. As he ran, he took a moment to calm himself. He closed his eyes to think only about Nadira and how pretty she was and how much his heart throbbed for her. He wondered if he would survive the battle to be with her. As he thought, the sound of his hooves faded from his awareness and all he took notice of was the beating of his own heart. When he opened his eyes there was new determination in his expression, but the blind rage was gone. He was racing into battle for no other reason than the fact that this was the home of the mare he loved, for he knew that now, he loved her. It was exhilarating to think of such a thing, that a stud like him could fall in love. For her sake then, he would fight with everything he had to give.

Thunder rumbled from the grullo's hooves as his unrestrained strength left hoof-shaped cracks in the stones that hid in the grassy terrain. As the distance closed, Tharos let out the roaring neigh of a battle cry. Gathering himself, he kicked off from the ground and rose to face the fight. His aim was perfect, but off on purpose. He sailed passed his target, hoping to knock the stallion off balance as he attempted to graze his muscular shoulder against Apollo's. Landing on his forelegs regardless, he gathered up his hind legs to his stomach and bucked hard to crash his hooves against Apollo's side. From the corner of his vision he saw a truly massive beast attacking Ailith. He hoped the mare could handle herself. If needed, he would go to her aid. They would fight more effectively back to back, anyways.

In any case, with the tank occupied, Tharos was free to make quick work of Apollo and his companion, a gold-tinted Pegasus. Once they were taken care of, he and Ailith could take down Archibald together. White and black mane flouncing against his neck, Tharos made to rear back and wheel about in order to shower Apollo's back with his hooves, that is if the stallion was still in range. "I'll make you regret comin' here!" He snorted aloud.

Buffs: None || Attacking: APOLLO
Summary: Tharos made to crash his shoulder into Apollo's and land on his forelegs to the left side of him. Without letting his hind legs touch the ground, he bucked out at Apollo's left side, and then reared back to wheel about and rain his forelegs down on Apollo's haunches.

Ailith Posts: 47
Mare :: Equine :: 15.0 HH :: 8

No matter what we breed, we are still made of greed
This is my kindom come, this is my kindom come

Like an approaching storm, the thunder seemed to roll in with the pounding of hooves upon the dunes. Fear wrought her with confusion before her legs seemed to steal her against the sight of their advance. It was as if the rain had begun to fall slowly and each member of the grey seemed to unfold from themselves. Her eyes widened in horror before instinct seemed to proffer another solution. Her haunches gathered beneath her before her mind could register anything other than the everlasting pain of what lie before her. A strangled cry broke free of her chest before she launched herself forward into the fray. Her eyes searched for meaning behind the chaos and when it finally came, it came in the form of a very large draft and his dog. Rage welled up in her heart at his choice of opponent before another shrieking cry was carried to the heavens. She had accepted his challenge.

Long legs stretched before him as she sized up her opponent. He was not as quick as she due to his massive size and she planned to use that to her advantage. But as she thought about it her mind seemed to waver and she wasn’t sure if it was because fear was immobilizing her or if that snarling bitch was the cause of it. The sight of them seemed to slide by in pictures, flashing before her before returning to the darkness of her mind. Her legs seemed to quiver beneath her as ARCHIBALD gained ground but it was as if she had forgotten their use, forgotten everything that made her purpose worthwhile. The moment seemed to drag on forever before her conscious finally seemed to comply with her determination. She was hazy and a bit dizzy but there was nothing she could do to prevent the draft from reaching her in a series of massive strides.

Anticipating ARCHIBALD’S blow, Ailith moved to the left as quickly as her heavy mind would allow. He was able to knock the breath from her lungs as he blew into the point of her right shoulder but it also allowed for her to be pushed back and away from his eager strike to her cannon. However, his teeth had found victory where his hooves had not. Perched upon her withers, his incisors split the tender skin which made her howl in anger and pain. She did not wait for his release before reaching out to inflict an attack of her own. Bared teeth sought the tender flesh on the underside of his neck like a parched throat sought the rain. She used her haunches to launch herself into the bite before bounding down his left side whereupon she skewered another viscous attack with her teeth upon his left, hind flank.

She knew that her life hung in the balance and while she was unsure how long he would remain behind her, she gathered herself once more to send a powerful kick to his back end. Her hooves sought purchase more than her lungs desired air and she knew that behind each blow received and given that she was fighting for her life and her home. There was nothing that would stop her from giving it her all. Once she was on her feet again she bounded away from ARCHIBALD, clearly taking advantage of her form. Like a dancer she was light and lithe, her hooves entirely too familiar with the ground upon which she fought.

Her mind began to pound with the aftermath of magic and her gaze seemed to glaze over with the effort of her extreme focus. It was so unlike her to feel at a disadvantage but at this point in time there was nothing she could do in order to change her current situation. The warm sensation of blood upon her withers seemed to extend downward now as the rushing persisted making her hide slick with the crimson substance. Her adrenaline high was beginning to wear and while there wasn’t much she could do, she realized that she would have to rely more on logic now than ever. Her momentary burst of power had faded but she knew that her hooves, if firmly placed, would hold true to her cause. Wheeling back to face him she waited for his next attack because with his clear advantage she would have to be on her toes. She could not avoid magic and she had no companion to entertain his own, so she had to rely on sheer will power to get her by. This was only the beginning of the storm and she knew that the rain would fall in sheets of rage.

[WORD COUNT: 784 | ATTACKING: Archibald | DEFENSE: Leaning to the left in order to avoid the full blow of his aimed hit near the sternum. | SUMMARY: Using ARCHIBALD’S momentum to throw herself back and away from him, she avoid the blow to her cannon. Though she takes the bite to her right wither but uses the time to bite at the underside of his neck. She then shoots down his left side and bites at his flank before moving completely behind him to attempt to buck. She then moves away and turns back around to face him.]

OOC| Er, Time you’re a butthead. This is the second spar I’ve ever written so… just ask me if something doesn’t make sense. I also wanted to point out that it’s not actually raining; I was just using it as a metaphor for the fight. XD

Ascended Helovian

Midas the Gallant Posts: 1,164
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 14.3 hh :: Immortal :: Soul is 7 (FF) Buff: HUNTER
Fina :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix & Wakiya & Neve :: Common Zephyr :: Arctic Angel

The silence before a storm….

Our world hung quiet for a few blissful moments like the earth splitting calm before a hurricane. I would have done anything to hold onto those moments permanently, cling to them like my hooves clung to the tree beneath me. I knew that once the bellows of battle rang out, everything would be different. This quiet field quickly fertilized in blood, my blood, the blood of brothers, and finally the blood of enemies. Heart thundered beneath chest with agitation, golden eyes peered into the field with such intensity that it was no wondering guess as to why my leader thought mind to be purely on lady conflict. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t anxious for something to happen, but the majority of this soul only wanted peace.

A vain prayer for this to end on happy terms was soon dashed to the ground. Territory soldiers showed up with tongues waggling and spirits tense as a cord. Their leader remained absent appearing to the main event, which was a dishonor that shamed his herd and spoke nothing of courage. What did appear however, spoke brashly and stupidly to the Grey who now outnumbered them. But, I say ‘stupidly’…ears slithered back in realization that I would also have spoken such to those that threated my home. Leader or no leader. That little patch of dirt beneath the old magnolia tree was mine, and no other. I’d be dead before I saw the land of sand fall beneath the heel of another.

Moments turned into rigid seconds, eyes hardened with the stern glint of a warrior. Emotions having been worked though and a moment of silence give for the loss of others, I felt ready and at peace with what was to come. Aryel it seemed, was yet to finish pushing through her ideals, she remained ever the sour puss like appearance. Normally I might have given sympathetic look and even went as far to acknowledge her plight; this time though, when Kri spoke out in retort I also gave the sergeant a stern glance, it had been her choice to fight with us today.

Finally, my Sultanas voice rings out, “We fly!” She ordered. Heartbeat quickens, and my excitement flutters alive. Swiftly as they might, my wings unfurl and compact body is pushed from safety. Branches, leaves and various other things bash against my barrel for but a moment before hardened steel slithers across frame inch by rapid inch. Magical armor now covers me, weighting me and my endurance, plated neck extends and wings stretch to their peak; allowing the straps of silver and gold to create knife like slivers along my primary wing muscles.

The image of my son flashes through mind, his smiling face, all the hope and trust he has placed in me with high expectations of my return. ‘I’ll return to you’, I whisper quietly to myself, hoping that my promise wouldn’t be proven false. The stench of struggling bodies fills my senses and pushes thoughts of home into the deepest corners of my mind. Out of concern for a certain lady, I instinctively start searching for Ktulu. Before I can find her though, attention is drawn to something familiar just ahead and below, a painted Overo with a horn that appeared purely made of crystal.


The black and white Arabian that charged for an attack I cared not give name to. At this height he appeared smaller than me, or about the same build. I knew from experience that this was a false notion, like all things, looks could be deceiving. A choice was made, grimly I push the ebony lady from mind and instead move to aid a friend. Armored wings tuck with intent on applying speed until I take on the appearance of a diving bullet. Forelegs thrash madly. THAROS had just started to kick at APOLLO when I arrived to rain fury from above. At the last possible second I pull up just before becoming a ‘horse shaped blob of feathers’. The font half of my body slips forcefully up, straining to pull neck and shoulders so that I didn’t literally fall on him. Feathers respond with painful agitation, pulling from tucked position to be fully stretched again and pumping heavily to keep me adrift, all while still moving forward at a slower rate.

This act opened opportunity for a failing limb attack. Hindquarters bunch up and uncoil rapidly in time with my forelimbs, almost as if I was cantering across the sky. My hopeful intent was not only would this come as a surprise to the ebony Arabian. But also that my sharp forehooves and or backhooves would collide with THAROS neck. Preferably hitting THAROS'S skull in passing just as his unsuspecting head rose from a buck aimed for APOLLO. At the same time, as a way of saying “f you,” Pegasus style. Wings kept thrusting and intentionally fall forward at a dip. Trying to catch a part of THAROS’S sides, by use of my armored blades lashed across primary feathers. Getting hit by my steel would increase the chance of a slicing and first blood, getting hit with weighted feathers would possibly only leave a bruise to remember. All this happened in a matter of moments before I was pushed out of range by forward momentum.

Word count:: 894

Buffs:: Endure

Magic:: (0/2)

Summary:: Tries to surprise attack THAROS by dive bombing him whilst he is distracted with attacking APOLLO. Midas pulls up and does a fly over when near THAROS, legs are kicking with hopes that a hoof or two might hit THAROS across his head/neck. At the same time, Midas attempts to use his wing beats and strike THAROS across the sides/shoulders/head/ or neck in passing.

[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]

Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zola :: Black Cat :: None Sparrow

"It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for;

It was ironic, Apollo had decided, that such brutality would take place upon a peaceful land. The black and white overo stood passively next to his family, sucking in breaths of air to try and calm his racing heart. His thoughts had been wandering, recalling what he and Phaedra had spoken so intimately about before he had left for the war… Admitting his love for her during such a tumultuous time had been risky, but he couldn’t go out and possibly face his death without letting her know how he truly felt about her. She had become his reason for existing, his reason for breathing, and his reason to fight.

… I will return to you.

Beneath his hooves, the grass was lightly matted with a sprinkling of morning dew. The sky was clear with the oncoming morning, the sun behind them warming his back in almost a soothing gesture. Giving a snort once more, the stallion gave his head a rough shake to clear his head. Now was not the time to allow his thoughts to wander. Now was the time for war. Life and death were amongst them, and should his thoughts stray from this point on in any way, it could result in his demise.

Directing his attention to the gathered members of the Foothills, he sized them up, pondering just who their leader was. No one truly seemed like leader-esque material here so far… Then again, perhaps, he knew that not every leader was as devoted to their own as Ktulu and Ophelia were. They would thrive, the Grey, and with the Dragon’s Throat at their aid, the stallion knew it would only be a matter of time until the remaining members of the Foothills felt their fury.

There was silence for a moment, the only sound the echoing of his heartbeat in his ears. Then, came the charge. In the distance Apollo’s honey-brown orbs spotted the Sultana of the Throat take to the air from their spot of cover, her loyal soldier’s following without question, but he had little time to track their movements for much longer before his muscles coiled in preparation, rear haunches pushing himself forward into the fray. Apollo refrained from bolting directly into a gallop during the charge, for he knew that doing so could cause him to lose his footing in the damp grass. Nostrils flaring and lungs heaving, the stallion bent his head slightly as he set his pace at a slow canter, spotting a larger, grullo stallion charging his way. He couldn’t place just what kind of draft this oncoming stallion was, but he didn’t care. In the distance the mountains stood almost like silent judges, pale witnesses to the carnage that was about to happen in their lower lands.

Immediately Apollo sized him up, comparing them, allowing his thoughts to race between how to go about this fight. THAROS, being a draft mutt, would perhaps move slower, hindered by his own bulk, so Apollo knew that speed could very well be his greatest ally here. While not as nimble as an Arabian, as a Paint, Apollo hoped that he would have a slighter increase of maneuverability on his side. Eyes narrowed and ears tipped back in anger, the distance between himself and THAROS decreased, and soon THAROS made his first move.

The draft-mix pushed himself off the ground with his rear legs, angling himself to Apollo’s left side, and the overo gritted his teeth as he felt the larger stallion’s shoulder brush against his own. It caused his gait to falter and slow, but that was the least of his worries. In passing, THAROS aimed a buck at Apollo’s side, and the Painted stallion feigned to the right in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and THAROS as possible. He felt the draft-mutt’s hooves graze his side, ripping hair from his hide, and the Unicorn grit his teeth in pain. It would leave a nasty bruise, not to mention an unsavory patch of hairless skin. Perhaps if they hadn’t been side by side, THAROS’S attack would have been more effective.

It all happened in seemingly less than a second, and in the next moment they had passed one another, Apollo avoiding THAROS’ rear due to the pull of forward momentum that skirted him safely beneath the deadly daggers of THAROS’ hooves. Apollo dropped his shoulders and tucked in his rear haunches, stiffening his front legs and allowing himself to come to a sliding stop. It was somewhat difficult and less than spectacular to behold, due to the grass being stained with morning dew, and upon coming to a complete stop, the Painted stallion whirled around, barring his teeth. It was then that he noticed Midas, the Pegasus that he had met in the Spectral Marsh seasons ago… The armored Pegasus was attacking THAROS as well, and Apollo decided to take his chance while THAROS was hopefully preoccupied with the mass of hooves that tried to rain down upon him. Pushing himself off the ground once again, Apollo tucked his head close to his body, neck arching as he poised his horn for the attack. Breaking into a canter, Apollo charged THAROS head-on, aiming to thrust his crystalline horn deep into the draft-mutt’s neck or chest, or, if THAROS moved out of the way, somehow maim the thick, fleshy muscles of his toned deltoid.

[Wordcount: 899
Buffs: None | Attacking: THAROS
Defense: Takes the brush to the shoulder and attempts to distance himself (to the right) from THAROS to take less of the kick to his side. Due to forward momentum, as they’re both charging each other, Apollo avoids THAROS’ rear by passing him.
Attack: Once spun around to face THAROS once more, Apollo charges with his head tucked close to his body and tries to drive his horn into THAROS’ chest/deltoid area.]

I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill."

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