to break, to bind [Tal]


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Post Mon Apr 23, 2018 10:59 pm

to break, to bind [Tal]

They were the fastest, and so she bid them run—hunt down what had broken through and return, quickly. The barrier they’d set was tenuous, the grounding far too close to the Fields. If luck were with them—Hinote did what he could—the breach would be in a far corner, away from casual wanderings. But Fields still, and therein always the danger.

So they ran the ward path, trailing what the darkness had dripped in passing, and found themselves spat out in high grassland. Id had to crane his neck to see over the stiff waves of dry rushes; Lock would have to rear up.

“Not good,” she said, simply, turning to guard his left flank. His eyes to the front, hers to the back—the best they could manage.

“We may hear it,” he said; she’d need the words, now that she could not look at him. “Your ear is keener.”

The wind shifted, and the grass crashed like a sea. He felt her press closer, and even then he could bare make her answer. “Too much. Sound, everywhere.”

It was—rustling, snapping, rushing. Not impossible to place a direction, but difficult, and Lock not used to tuning out all she could sense. But their prey had been marked—they were
here, that much was sure. From where they’d come, neither he nor she could know. But they would come. In their corruption, it was all they could do.

“Could be a time to call your Death,” he murmured, only half in jest. Felt her tail sting against his ribs, quick as a whip.

“Not for little this.” There was pride in the monotone, if one knew how to listen. Here, at the edge of waiting, of some promised violence—here, the only time they would speak so lightly.

Seconds stretched. The grass moved, revealed nothing. They each felt the other’s breathing slow, slow, and stop.

Wait.

Fangs exploded by his unguarded shoulder and—stopped, the tips frozen in their half-moon sinking. Lock’s gift, one count wasted on him, but no
time for that. He whipped around and his teeth buried deeper, through the scaled folds at the beast’s nape. Ichor burned in his mouth; the hold broke; it screamed.

Now.

He shifted his weight back, reared up—the creature’s dark bulk snapped through the air, tethered in his jaw. His neck tensed tight as a wire, and he dragged it down, down to the dust. They crashed together. Breathless. Blind.
Do not let go.

Low sound cut through the impact—not a cry, no, Lock never made such noises. Through the slow air he saw her suddenly, another darkness in her teeth, dragging her along. The grass splintered like bone around them, and they were gone.

Fury thrashed in his hold, hissing, blunted claws scrabbling for his gut. He could try to rise, to pin, but his hooves slid against the matted grass and would not stay. If the beast found purchase first—no, keep it occupied. Felt a sharpness find his hind, sink, twist. Fine. He leaned into it—all the weight he could.

He was not made for crushing, but in the moment, it was all he had.


((Hope this is good enough for you to work off of, Tal--I'm very rusty when it comes to action ^^;;))
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Post Tue Apr 24, 2018 8:52 pm

Re: to break, to bind [Tal]

((OOC: Honestly, it's perfect! It's been far too long since I've written anything action oriented either, so not to worry! You'll have to bear with me as I feel these characters out. I've never played with Threestrikes, and it's been awhile since I've touched on Tatter))

Galaxy had sensed some form of danger in the fields, and had asked them to go investigate. The stallion was the equivalent of their General, and his word was law. Where Vision was the democratic leader, and Bridle his right hand, Galaxy had taken up a special role in their little society. The Elementals and Warriors respected the Rogues, and while Shimmer preferred a quieter role in the herd, Galaxy's praise and opinions were almost revered. Threestrikes didn't even hesitate when Galaxy asked him; it was the first bit of excitement he'd had in years. The same stale patrols had made him battle hungry. In reality, his eagerness to comply to Galaxy's requests had everything to do with who he was and what he wanted, and less to do with obeying the Rogue.

Threestrikes raced through the fields with Tatter in hot pursuit. Tatter was not a warrior, but he was one of the fastest runners in the herd, and he was invaluable as a result. He was the only one who could keep pace with the Warrior, and he had very little fear of the unknown himself.

If truth be told, Threestrikes wasn't even sure what he was looking for, until he abruptly came upon the breach himself. He slowed to a halt, and for all his bulk, the Warrior was quiet as he stalked forward to investigate. He wasn't sure what manner of being had crossed the barrier. He didn't even recognize the barrier as one of their own; that alone made him cautious, despite his propensity for being rash and hot headed. None the less, he was confident in his ability to track the being or creature, as it seemed to leave its own sinister trail to follow.

He motioned towards the ground, and Tatter nodded silently in agreement. Threestrikes took the lead again with Tatter trailing at the rear, just in case another being dislodged itself from the breach to follow them.

When they reached the grassland, the relative silence was punctuated by the snap of grass, and muted sounds of a struggle. Something was crashing about in there, something large and feral. Many things from the Wilds were, and if Threestrikes had to hazard a guess, with his limited experience and knowledge, he would bet that the creature made the Wilds its home.

He couldn't run in blindly, not without pinpointing the approximate location of his target, but the grass made visibility impossible at best. He strained to listen, but there were too many noises emanating from within. Tatter waited for word silently, knowing that Threestrikes was simply weighing his options. The pale stallion's blood sang with the promise of a skirmish, as he trotted along the grass' edge. He paused for a moment, and Tatter could almost see him planning out a strategic position in his head.

With very little warning, Threestrikes dashed into the tall grass and Tatter had to quickly give chase. Tatter emerged not too long after into an opening made from crushed grasses, but he was forced to hang back to give the Warrior some striking distance.

There was a stallion in front of them who was pinning some creature of the void. The stallion was holding his own, but Threestrikes intended to end it, now that he was incensed and the smell of blood was upon him. He lowered his head like a deadly battering ram, sharp crimson horns aimed for the only exposed portion of the being's body that the other Serian was not currently trying to crush with his bulk. Threestrikes darted forward nimbly, readjusting his trajectory to compensate for the thrashing creature.

With barely more than a grunt, Threestrikes felt the resistance of the creature's hide against his horns before it gave way with a sickening sound. The stallion twisted his head, determined to rend and tear, or maim at least if he could not make it a clean kill. Luckily for him, the creature's claws had already found purchase in the other Serian, but still it struggled, until he twisted so violently that the creature shuddered and uttered the briefest screech, its death knell.

He withdrew from the corpse but paused only long enough to question the other stallion. Conversation was not his strong suit, and he could feel the bloodlust upon him.

"Is this it? Is this the only one?"
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Post Wed Apr 25, 2018 8:51 pm

Re: to break, to bind [Tal]

A flash of white in the corner of his eye, a sudden hit of bloodlust—but nothing he could do, if it were aimed at him. He braced against the pain—what was there, what might come—felt impact shudder through the beast’s body. Not his own. The stallion was close now, clear: pale hide, fall of teal, wicked horns sunk deep. Warrior.

The darkness screamed, and died.

Id let the weight fall from his jaw.
Rise. The claws had spasmed before they’d gone loose, carved deep furrows that he felt only distantly. His hooves were steady under him, even with what swarmed in the stranger’s air. Bloodlust, pure and strong enough to send memory like heat lightning through his veins. The blood in his mouth took on sweetness—but no. Not now.

“Is this it? Is this the only one?”

Pointed, but little time for anything else. He noted another stallion, at the edge of the brush—fanged at the spine and throat, but not like them. “One more. My companion had it last.” His voice sounded strange to his ears; he couldn’t place why. “Larger quarry, from where they came.”

He turned, then, towards the place he’d seen Lock disappear and through—they would either follow, or not. Lock had not called him; their bond lay silent, still. Could mean anything. He moved swiftly through the path she’d cut. All the blood along it was dark; a sign, maybe, that she was holding her own.

And still, had he not a Warrior’s senses, breaking upon her fight might have surprised him—so quiet, her way. The beast croaked around a half-crushed throat, its stance low and wary, snapping and clawing whenever she entered its range. Never quite fast enough—though there was a red gash below her eye, where she’d learned its timing.

She glanced at him as he parted the rushes, spared him a singular nod.
Good, you’re alive. Her dance shifted, then—a little wider, a little faster. She spun on a back hoof, casting a spray of grit into the creature’s opaque eyes. It screeched; she smiled, so soft and quick he might’ve imagined it.

She was no Warrior, that much was true. Just—something else.
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Post Thu Aug 02, 2018 8:45 pm

Re: to break, to bind [Tal]

((OOC: I'm so so sorry! Life's been so crazy as of late, I feel like I've barely had a few moments to sit down with my thoughts and process...))

Threestrikes could still feel himself impaling the creature; that sensation of flesh and muscle separating and giving way was unreasonably satisfying. It fed his bloodlust until he practically trembled from the thrill of it all. Adrenaline coursed through his body while his blood sang, wordlessly acknowledging the fact that his craving for chaos, blood and battle had barely begun to be sated. His nostrils still flared from the acrid metallic scent lingering in the air, and he stilled himself long enough to scent the air, much as a canine would. He wasn't attempting to track the other beast. He just wanted to take it all in and absorb it since he knew it would be fleeting at best.

It was moments like this that reminded Tatter that Threestrikes was a very different beast than most. He felt distinctly like an outsider while watching Threestrikes and the other stallion interact. He couldn't confirm, but he felt, that they were similar. The brute strength that the other stallion had shown in the midst of his fight was similar to that of most Warriors he knew, so he simply assumed that they both shared that at the very least. While Tatter wasn't afraid, he couldn't say that he derived the same amount of pleasure from this sort of activity that Threestrikes did. The stallion's bloodlust was borderline frightening, and he never seemed satisfied. His brother, Chaos, had always been more tempered. Chaos had a head about him; he was protective, strong and intelligent. Threestrikes reminded him more and more of a rabid monster the longer he spent away from the herd. He was certain that keeping close to Talia and the others was the only thing that kept him reasonably sane and the bloodlust in check. Galaxy's missions were taking a toll on the stallion, but no one could convince Galaxy otherwise. Galaxy was confident that he would endure; Tatter was certain that Threestrikes was changing, and would soon undergo a metamorphosis that none of them would want to be a part of.

Blood red eyes lit on Tatter for a moment as Threestrikes pinned him with a gaze. In that moment, Tatter was terrified, and he rarely allowed himself to feel frightened. He stood stalk-still as Threestrikes initiated a prey drive that he never knew existed, but his hooves refused to move. I know him. He knows me. He would never hurt another one of his kind. But there, in that short span of time, he was no longer certain of anything.

Threestrikes seemed to almost crawl back into himself when the other stallion spoke, indicating that there were more creatures beyond. He nodded quickly, almost eagerly, and he tilted his head at their new companion in a curious gesture. Manners had never been Threestrikes' forte, so it didn't surprise Tatter when he was blunt and to the point, yet again.

"Show me," he stated. It wasn't a question, or a request for assistance, even though the other stallion was more than capable of assisting or even taking care of it on his own. It was a demand.

Tatter rolled his eyes before stepping forward. "Excuse this simpleton. Would you mind showing us the direction that your companion was headed in? I'm sure Threestrikes could track the creature himself, but this much blood makes him... distracted."

Threestrikes rolled his eyes in response, but not sarcastically. His eyes seemed to glaze as he was reminded of the heady aroma surrounding him, and Tatter had to fight to distract him once more.

When the other stallion started to lead the way, Tatter and Threestrikes followed, one with much more evident glee than the other. Tatter sidled next to Threestrikes, grounding him in familiarity lest he lose his head. When they came upon the mare Threestrikes paused, quietly observing. While he wanted nothing more than to dominate the beast and throw himself into the midst of the battle, he had the wherewithal with Tatter at his side to wait and watch for the ideal opening.

It was clear that the mare was not in any real danger- not yet at least. She was agile, which gave her a distinct advantage over the creature. The beast was clearly slowing, having sustained injuries that seemed too severe to recuperate from. She exploited its weaknesses as she danced about it, blinding it quickly with a calculated move that had Threestrikes nodding in approval. He extricated himself from Tatter's side and began to trot a slow circle around the beast and the mare, awaiting his turn. He had no doubt that the other Warrior might also want his moment, even if he did feel a compulsion to interrupt and steal back the control.

He craved, needed, control.

Tatter took a few paces back, removing himself from immediate striking range. There were more than enough capable individuals here, and he didn't want to crowd them. So long as Threestrikes wasn't in any danger of losing himself, he'd maintain his distance until the battle was decided.
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Post Thu Aug 02, 2018 11:02 pm

Re: to break, to bind [Tal]

((Not at all--I know how busy things can get :) This was definitely worth the wait!))

There, her one—but then: two, three. All she saw from a corner of her eye, on turn-and-twist and dust thrown wide—but clear still, in her eye. Two: new and stallion. One spiked all along, little like her Death—and two, white and blood-horned. That one much like her Death. Like Id.

Sang it in his circling start, and she cut him wide berth. Knew what he was—this kill more his than hers. More need of it than she, this one. She knew. On their passing, she slipped from his strike path. Left him clear.

To Id, she came. Could see now, what this one woke. Ares all a-tremble through him—so fine, held tight. If not her eyes, she might now know, but she did. Had looked like this, before he’d torn her apart.

Felt the snakegift tighten round her leg. Still, she came to him, settled beside him to watch what this Warrior would do. Curious, always, above all the things she was.

What kind of death gave this one?

--

Things came to him a touch slowly, through the swimming red that had started to pulse, grimly, about his eyes. Lock, coming closer. The words spoken to him, before he’d turned to trace her through the grass.

“…but this much blood makes him…distracted.”

It would be his luck, for another soul straddling madness to be the aid he’d get. And yet, even blood-blind, this Threestrikes had a measure of reserve—he moved with intent, but a waiting kind. An open offer, deference to the order of the hunt. Reminded him of Brittle, suddenly and sharply. All the things he was not, and could not afford to be.

Lock shifted, said nothing and everything at once.
Easy. I am with you.

Perhaps this other stallion, the one moving back into the brush, served her same purpose—a grounding element, a touchstone. But wariness crackled around him like static, in place of the mare’s calm indifference. Saner, then, than either of them could perhaps claim to be. A necessity. Boon, even.

He bowed back, just so—not a surrender, but an allowance, in the language he and the other Warrior shared. He could not afford this kill—not so close to the edge, not with what still lay ahead. This moment of control could be bartered.

“Our bonded fight beyond the breach,” he said, just loud enough for the spiked stallion to hear him. “Should this not yet be—enough.”

The blood scent whispered sweetly in his veins. He knew what it was to starve. Heavier, though, the cost of giving in. He could only offer the choice.

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