Fennick vs Straia

[Warship]

RULES
- 2 posts each
- 2 attacks per post/1 defense
- 1 complete dodge PER THREAD
- 3 days between posts (this is pretty lax, I know we are all busy!)
- TRAITS ALLOWED
- It probably goes without saying, but no god-moding/powerplaying.
- The horse listed first goes first

@[Fennick] @[Straia]

[Fennick]

Fennick felt a contented hum of anticipation. There was something deeply satisfying about meeting allies on the battlefield. Surely nothing could strengthen a bond more than blood mutually and willingly spilled. The Valley king smiled, and imagined the way his daughter would roll her eyes. She would call him soft and sentimental. She didn’t realize that war would always be fought for those that followed. This, however, was not war, this was just fun.

Fennick stretched his neck and enjoyed the pop of joints falling into place. His crown had come with a few new tricks, and he was eager to try them out. The stallion’s smile grew dark and mischievous. His eyes twinkled at his sister queen.

“Straia.” He said congenially in way of a greeting.

“Remind me to thank your general for this charming event.” And truly, it was charming. In this moment, Fennick was perfectly happy and contented. He was satisfied in a way he so rarely was. With one more nod at his opponent he leapt towards her. With little fanfare, the battle began.

Fennick enjoyed the surge of power his own muscles gave him. He reveled in the push of his haunches as he raced towards Straia’s right side. He could have covered the distance in three easy strides but before their bodies crashed, he shifted into his new form, a large silver black wolf.

Fennick howled with glee as his fangs stretched toward’s Straia. He intended to mark her ribs with his teeth, just enough for it to hurt. This was a mock after all. As a wolf he was a much smaller, but much deadlier target than he had been as a stallion. He hoped that his last minute shift would disrupt any defense or counter attack Straia had intended. The downside of this form was that a kick could do serious damage. Even as a large wolf, a well aimed back hoof could send him flying. Fennick knew he couldn’t linger long in close combat.

For the briefest moment, Fennick focused on how the wind felt on his face. He inhaled it, captured its essence and shifted again. As the wind itself Fennick soared up and away. With no body to express delight, he felt it inwardly. He felt it wherever his soul stayed when his body changed. When he thought he floating directly above Straia’s back, Fennick shifted back into his wolf form.

As the beast he dropped, jaws snapping, paws splayed. With any luck he would land atop the Chamber queen, and could leave a few bite marks on the crest of her neck. Even through his savage glee and his primal bloodlust, Fennick tried to keep at eye on Straia’s hooves. He liked his dog body, liked the way the animal snarled and snapped, but if need be, he would shift.

His attack completed, Fennick sprung away, putting distance between himself and Straia. He licked his lips and grinned, but this time, instead of a contented smile, there were two rows of pointed, gleaming fangs. Yes, he was certain now, there was no better way to meet an ally than on the battle field.

[Kyra]

Sorry, I know this should be up today, but my weekend tasks took forever. I'll get a post up as soon as I can this week.

[Straia]

i am the violence in the pouring rain

i am a hurricane

It has been a long time since she’s stepped hoof on a battlefield. When she was a child, she had tried her hand at being in the army. Honestly? She rather enjoyed it. Enjoyed the blood and adrenaline coursing through her veins, the wild freedom of it all. So why had she stopped? Because the Chamber needed a diplomat more than a warrior, and so she had been what she needed to be. Everything was for the Chamber.

But today, the Chamber needs her to be a warrior once again, and this time, she doesn’t have blunt teeth and hooves as her only weapons (though those can be useful tools). This time, she has an army of ravens at her back (though not literally at the moment). She figures she won’t start the battle wearing her skill on her sleeve. Not that it’s secret, but she’ll start as simply a horse.

She hears her name, and looks to her right in time to see Fennick, offering nothing more than “Fennick,” in return. For once, she doesn’t need to spend time on words. Now, it’s time for action. She keeps her eyes on Fennick as she picks up into a canter. He launches forward, heading for her right side. She’s not about to stand still and let him smash her in the ribs, so she keeps moving forward, leaving Fennick parallel to her right side.

He’s close, and she doesn’t have that much time, but she only needs those three strides to put him just behind her haunches. Just as he shifts (something she’s not expecting), she throws her weight to the front and lashes out in a crocked buck to her right. She was hoping to hit somewhere around his neck or shoulders, looking to make it harder for him to move. Any damage in that area would make movement more painful, and would make it harder for him to buck.

She wasn’t being particularly picky with the exact location of her kick, since any hit in that general area would accomplish her purpose. But she had been planning her attack with his horse form in mind, so now she can only hope she’d kicked high enough to hit the wolf that took Fennick’s place. If she was really lucky, she hit home sent the wolf flying. But even a nice graze to his belly would do enough damage to slow him down a hair, and that would be fine too. It’s a mock, after all. Damage to the belly or the ribs would make breathing hurt some, no matter what form he took.

Her legs hit the ground, and she can feel a jolt of pain where is fangs grazed against her own rump. There’s probably a nice trickle of blood down the right side of her rump, but thankfully for her, she doesn’t have to rely on her legs to keep her moving. She shifts to a normal black raven and takes to the sky, putting distance (she thinks, though she’s not sure) between herself and Fennick.

When she turns a few moments later, the King is nowhere to be seen. Damn. He’s got so many forms; she has no idea where he might be. Well, anyway, two can play at that game. She changes her raven form, crafting herself out of transparent light now. She’s still slightly visible, but you have to know what to look for in order to find her.

Suddenly there’s a shadow above her. She pumps her wings, launching forward some to get out of the shadow, tipping to the right as she does so. Immediately, she changes substances, turning from light to fire. She feels him breeze by behind her and on her left, clipping a few tail feathers with those damned fangs. She falters for a moment in the air before re-crafting the fire feathers on her tail and regaining stability. She can feel where the feathers were hit, though thankfully there’s no bone or flesh there for him to have torn. It’s more of a strange, phantom ache.

If she’s lucky, she burned that mouth of his with those damn fangs. Not that she minds a few war wounds and all, but still, she’s getting tired of being bitten. If his mouth is severely burned, he’s going to be terribly distracted by the pain, and it should probably stop him from using those fangs. More likely though, she’s just slightly sizzled some of his mouth and lips. It might be just enough to get him to think twice about biting her, but she doesn’t think the injury is likely to slow him down (if she even hit him at all).

She lands on the ground, shifting back to a horse for the moment as she does so, keeping Fennick in her sight as best she can, and not straying too far from her opponent. No reason to give him more preparation room, after all.

straia

the raven queen of the chamber

[Fennick]

Fennick felt a rush of adrenaline tear through him. It made him wild, and the wolf snarled as he leaped towards Straia. But, as wild as he was, as ruthless, Straia was faster. One moment he was speeding towards her barrel and the next he was facing her powerful haunches. Fennick swore in his head, but he had been keeping an eye on her back legs. This was what he had worried about, what he had prepared for. When Straia bucked to the right, the wolf dropped to his belly with predatory, fast reflexes. He wasn’t quite fast enough. Straia’s hoof flew over him, raking down his back. Fennick howled in pain, and he scrambled to get out the way of her hooves. Fennick dodged left, snapping wildly with his jaws. The metallic tang of blood met his tongue and he knew he made a hit, though certainly not the one he had been expecting.

It was a relief to shift out of his wolf form, to become the wind. He had been precariously close to straia’s hooves. In the air, he was free, out of harm’s way. But, though his safety remained, his triumph was brief. Where Straia had been a moment before there was now nothing?

Fennick found himself falling with not a horse beneath him but what appeared to be thin air. The wolf yelped, his paws pumping uselessly in the air. Where had she gone? Fennick saw a slight movement before the transparent raven became fire. The flame blazed in his face and the dog snarled. There was fire everywhere, the smoke clouding his vision and filling his nose. He felt it lick his muzzle and singe his fur. Though his senses were clouded the dog bit down anyways. It was useless, and he could hardly feel the feathers in his mouth, not when all he could think of was the fire.

Without thinking, with nothing but defense in mind, Fennick allowed the fire to consume him until he and it were one in the same. As he shifted into flame the scent of burning fur disappeared, and the sharp pain of sizzling skin faded. He could remember the feeling of pain, but without skin to feel it the memory was dulled, seemingly unimportant. As fire, Fennick saw his wolf form as nothing but a victim, a victim of the flame he had become.

As a blazing inferno, Fennick raced towards Straia, now momentarily a horse. As fire nothing mattered but his own hunger. The flames sped across the ground, spreading and consuming the barren landscape. Fennick felt the wide gaping hunger consume him, and he didn’t care what part of Straia she hit. All of her would burn. The flame spread out from its source, the spot where the wolf had been and circled their battlefield. The flames grew high, hissing and spitting as it reached for raven, horse or foliage, whatever it could reach.

When the fire could rage no higher, when Fennick thought the whole valley was likely to burn, he shifted his consciousness back to the ground. He felt its solidness, he felt the rock, old as the earth. With a sigh, Fennick became the rock. He felt confident and solid as stone, he felt his edges become jagged and rough. With a grinding rumbling groan, the rock exploded upwards, sending bits of dirt and debris scattering everywhere, acting as tiny bullets of stone. He had seen a few of the tricks Straia had up her sleeve. Surely she would take to the wing to escape the fire. Perhaps a bit of stone would clip her wing or pierce her feathered skin.