[p] one day that wall is gonna fall
#1
[html]

(332)



Myrika is by me!

The tawny-furred woman was not afraid. Perhaps she ought to be -- many of Inferni and Salsola both were riding out to greet the wolves today. Both coyotes she knew and strangers from their neighboring pack rode all around her. There was no tight formation to be kept, of course -- some lagged behind, others charged ahead. Many seemed eager to greet the fight. Myrika decided she was simply indifferent -- if she had to kill today, she would. Ithiel rode at her side, both of them ahorse. Lystra seemed especially nervous with all the surrounding horses and riders, but Cahal was implacable. Eira was too greatly pregnant to be risked at this point, and Myri hadn't ridden her in some weeks for that very fact.

The Consul had considered walking in her Secui form -- she had seen the power of this form when Vesper fought, and had wished to try such herself. Ithiel had advised against it, however, and the redhead deferred to his experience where combat was concerned. Instead, she was armed with a knife and another Ithiel-made wooden staff, since the first had splintered. This was pitiably little against the armor these wolves seemed to wear, but Myrika didn't intend to throw herself into the midst of the fighting. There were others more eager for blood who would do that.

The dust-colored coyote and his mount soon pulled away and ahead of her. With his arrows, Ithiel was a force to be recoked with, but perhaps he was most effective at the forefront of their haphazard column. Myri soon nudged Cahal to a faster pace, and the big horse flew over the ground. The thick Dampwoods were beginning to thin out, and in a moment, she could see the camp, rising as if from nowhere. It was expertly hidden; she had to credit that much. Already smoke and the noise of battle reached her ears. She urged Cahal forward even faster, clutching her stick in one hand.

<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');
</style>[/html]
#2
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 244 :: Didn't want to mention Saule so you can decide how she comes in/what weapons/horse or not/et cetera.

Blood striped the coyote’s lean body, and her pale blue eyes were aflame. Her muzzle contorted in a feral snarl as she turned, seeking another opponent, but after the dark-cowled wolf had fled, others had not been quick to attack. She grimaced and left her sister’s side reluctantly, trusting that she would heed orders and common sense and remove herself from the thick of the fray.

Already more were coming, Salsolians and Infernians alike, but Vesper let them swarm past her as if she were a stone in a river. The smell of horse sweat and aggression and fear and blood clotted in her nostrils, and she could plainly see that most of her comrades, chosen or not, were locked in battle with the wolves. Trapped in her optime form for the duration of the battle, she was not sure if she trusted herself to engage the enemy alone. She was no clumsy pup in this shape anymore, but she also wasn’t at the top of her game.

But she had to do something. Her bow was useless; even if she could find it and a supply of arrows, it would be more of a liability than an asset. Adrenaline coursing through her, she rushed through the smoky camp, until she burst unexpectedly into a smaller clearing adjacent to the main one.

Vesper paused, her body hunched and her bloodied claws unsheathed. Her ear twitched, and then hell burst into the clearing with her.


Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


<style>
p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:left; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}
.vesoptime-box {float:right;}
.vesoptime {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;}
.vesoptime .words {font-size:30px; font-family: 'Gloria Hallelujah'; text-align:right; line-height:20px; padding:0px 5px; text-shadow:#000000 1px 1px 3px;}
.vesoptime p.ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; text-indent:0px; padding:0px 5px;}
.vesoptime p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.vesoptime .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.vesoptime p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:5px;}
.vesoptime b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;}
.vesoptime b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesoptime b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesoptime b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>

[/html]
#3
[html]

(374) I love a Raze. Let me know if needs edits. :o



Myrika is by Titmouse!

Myrika saw some canines seemed to be fleeing. Some were on foot, others were on horseback. They were wolves, all of them, for Inferni and Salsola both seemed intent on entering the burning camp. The tawny woman pulled her horse to a stop for a moment and glared over the scenery. Cahal was nervous beneath her; he trembled at the scent of smoke and blood, the noisy din of ongoing battle. Perhaps she might let him go -- he knew Inferni and his home well enough to find his way back. She didn't need a panicking horse beneath her -- she'd have time to shift into Secui form, after all.

She saw a tawny figure emerge from the camp, splashed with red, and her heart leaped. Thoughts of leaving Cahal forgotten, Myri pressed at the horse's sides and stroked at his neck and shoulder, murmuring comforts all the while. Perhaps this would be enough to temper the stallion's fear. For a moment, it did not work, and the horse stood, still trembling and glaring with the whites of his eyes showing toward the source of the chaos. But Myrika was not asking him to go there -- she directed him to the side, and the big bay horse soon understood his mistress's intent. If horses could be relieved, her horse was.

She did not see the other pale form making her way toward the clearing and Vesper, but she arrived about the same time as the white wolf. The woman was already injured, a chunk of her ear missing. Her fur was also singed in places, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Myrika hunkered low on Cahal and made a split-second decision, sliding from the horse's back. She slapped him on the hindquarters and he was all too happy to flee, turning around on his heels and making a beeline for Inferni. Saule was armed with a sword, and Myri had only her small dagger and the stick, but Vesper had even less. Watch out, she called out, swinging the stick in a wild arc. It slapped harmlessly against the woman's armored shoulder, but it had drawn her attention away from Vesper and onto Myri, which was the intent anyway.

<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');
</style>[/html]
#4
[html]
every memory that I hold

were all just scars in the making

Word Count → 238 :: lololol Nigel. And I am the worst at strategy in fight threads. ;__;


She whirled around at the call, only to see the she-wolf turning away from her. Anger choked the normally calm hybrid momentarily, but her frustration with her newly-acquired deafness was swallowed by a torrent of cold fear. Steel glistened, long and serrated, and Vesper had to force herself to make the lunge at the soldier's back. Claws raked harmlessly against her armor, which coated most of her shoulders and arms and just about anywhere she needed to bleed. An unprotected face was full of sharp teeth that glistened as the wolf growled, paying about as much attention to the scraggly Centurion as if she were no more than a fly. Her legs were less protected, she noted, but the artery she knew of was hard to reach at this angle.

Dumb wolf bitch, Vesper snapped, and finally one torn white ear turned back in her direction. But Saule did not react otherwise, perhaps too confident in her protection against the mangy coyotes to care; her dark blue eyes were set on Myrika instead as she drew her sword back, the better to swing and cleave off an arm.

Vesper grabbed the blade. She grit her teeth, but tugging on the sword was enough to make the enemy turn around again, snarling and sending an armored fist into her shoulder. Blood welled from the lacerations in her paw pads, but Ves tried to bide some time.


Vesper Optime by Nat; table code from the Mentors!


<style>
p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:left; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}
.vesoptime-box {float:right;}
.vesoptime {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px 25px;}
.vesoptime .words {font-size:30px; font-family: 'Gloria Hallelujah'; text-align:right; line-height:20px; padding:0px 5px; text-shadow:#000000 1px 1px 3px;}
.vesoptime p.ooc {font-style:italic; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:12px; text-align:justify; text-indent:0px; padding:0px 5px;}
.vesoptime p.ooc + p {padding:0px 5px;}
.vesoptime .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.vesoptime p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:5px;}
.vesoptime b {letter-spacing:1px; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; letter-spacing:-.05em;}
.vesoptime b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesoptime b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesoptime b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>

[/html]
#5
[html]


(--) oh hai 200th myri post <3

If only her horse had the bravery and sense to join the fight, too -- a big stallion with heavy hooves was something to contend with. Cahal did most of what Myri asked him, but this was too much for even a creature as loyal as he or Eira. Myrika's stick struck and distracted the woman, who turned to advance on Myri.

Vesper flew at the pale wolf's back, harrying the wolf as she advanced toward Myrika, who swung her stick. It was blocked by the woman's steel-clad arm, deflected away without doming any sort of damage. The long steel sword glinted in the air above the woman, and Myri was aware that Vesper had hand on the blade, red blood welling up from her hands.

Snarling her anger, Myri threw herself forward, abandoning the stick and reaching for her dagger. It was drawn and clutched in her hand as Ithiel showed her, and Myri was in close with the wolf now -- too close for the sword. Saule let it drop and her other hand reached for her own knife even as her sword hand caught Myrika's wrist, stopping the slash from baring skull.



Myrika is by Nat!

<style>
#myriNat {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#myriNat p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#myriNat p.sieImage {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
}
#myriNat .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#myriNat .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#myriNat b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#myriNat u { text-decoration: underline; }
#myriNat b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myriNat b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myriNat b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]
#6
[html]



Vesper is by Nat!

As the blade dug deeper into her paw pads, Vesper could feel her grip grow slick with her own blood. She was fine with this, considering the alternative, but despite her high pain tolerance, she could only take too much. Muscles dangerously close to being damaged screamed at her to relinquish her grip, and when the sword grew suddenly heavy, she dropped it. It landed on the earth without fuss as the wolf focused her attention on Myrika, who was doing her best to slash in close with the dagger.

Blue eyes landed on the abandoned sword, and her weeping hands snatched it up. The weight was hard to bear for her skinny arms and clumsy wet grip, but she hoisted it up. A mailed hand was locked around Myri’s wrist, the wolf’s knife coming in, and Ves hoisted the sword the best she could, swinging it horizontally.

It was a blow easily dodged, with not a lot of strength behind it, but Saule’s legs remained unprotected. The edge bit into the back of her knee, and the wolf yowled and buckled suddenly into a grotesque genuflection. The sword slipped from Vesper’s weak grasp and flew off into the grass, but she lunged at the back of the wolf’s head, trying to shove her down and deal what damage she could.

<style>
.vesNat {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px auto; width:80%;}
.vesNat p {text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0;}
.vesNat p.image {text-align:center; float:right; margin:10px; text-indent:0; font-size:10px; font-style:italic;}
.vesNat .txtooc {text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal;}
.vesNat .word {font-weight:bold; font-style:normal; letter-spacing:1.5px;}
.vesNat b {letter-spacing:1px;}
.vesNat b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesNat b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesNat b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
.vesNat u { text-decoration: underline; }
</style>
[/html]
#7
[html]


(--)



Myrika is by Kiki!

The scent of blood was strong in the air, though Myrika wasn't quite sure whose blood it was. The thick and smoky scent of fire was also heavy on the air, but overpowering it was that coppery tinge of blood. The wolf was monstrously strong -- she had to be, wearing that armor -- and Myrika could not contend with the arm upon her wrist. Snarling her pain silently, the hybrid dropped the dagger, her fingers steadily going numb and useless with the grip upon her wrist. And then -- the bright flash of steel above the wolf's head, and the pale wolf jerked to avoid the blow, yanking the redhead along with her. But the grip upon Myrika's hand had been loosened just enough, and the Consul pulled herself away.

She was away for only a moment, however, for the big wolf was half on the ground and Vesper was on her already. She'd fallen, and now was their chance. Her dagger, almost forgotten, glinted on the ground, and Myrika bent to snatch it up. The tall woman leapt forward again, aiming to knock the big she-wolf onto the ground entirely. She brandished the dagger closely, waiting for a clear strike.

<style>
#myriKikiHorse {
font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;
font-size:14px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#myriKikiHorse p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#myriKikiHorse p.sieImage {
text-align:center;
float:left; margin:10px;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
}
#myriKikiHorse .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif;
text-transform:none;
font-style:italic;
font-weight:normal; }
#myriKikiHorse .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#myriKikiHorse b { letter-spacing:-.5px; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; }
#myriKikiHorse u { text-decoration: underline; }
#myriKikiHorse b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myriKikiHorse b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myriKikiHorse b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>
[/html]
#8
[html]

I guess end the fight? We can have them both freak out after Saule's dead and whatnot, but I don't know what else to do with the battle. :| *sucks at this*

Pale claws grasped at the wolf’s head, although the heaving metallic monster underneath her refused to let her deal more damage than a scratch or two. She slammed her foot into the back of the warrior woman’s knee, dealing more damage, and soon Myrika lunged forward. The coyotes’ combined weight knocked the wolf to the ground, and although she thrashed, trying to send an elbow back into Vesper’s ribs, she didn’t get back up.

The Centurion curled her lip, her hand shooting out to grab at the wolf’s mane and ears. She tugged enough to pull the wolf’s chin up, revealing her throat, and her blue eyes flashed meaningfully to Myrika. She’d kill in place of the Praetorian if she had to, but her comrade was the one with the dagger.


<style>
.vesNat {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px auto; width:80%;}
.vesNat p {text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0;}
.vesNat p.image {text-align:center; float:right; margin:10px; text-indent:0; font-size:10px; font-style:italic;}
.vesNat .txtooc {text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal;}
.vesNat .word {font-weight:bold; font-style:normal; letter-spacing:1.5px;}
.vesNat b {letter-spacing:1px;}
.vesNat b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesNat b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesNat b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
.vesNat u { text-decoration: underline; }
</style>
[/html]
#9
[html]

(--)



Myrika is by me!

The world seemed to consist entirely of flailing limbs and unpleasant odors -- blood, fear, and smoke. There was nothing else -- no horses, no Inferni, nothing else but the battle and its last few moments. Myrika was already exhausted, though she'd only just joined the fray, and she was hurting, too, though not so badly that it caused her any hesitation as she closed the distance between herself and Saule once more, aiming a slice at the exposed throat of the woman. Fur as white as snow split and reddened instantly, and the same warm red covered Myrika. The fire in the pale woman's eyes went out at once, and where there had been fierce struggle a moment ago, now there was only limp lifelessness.

The blue-eyed hybrid took a few short steps backward, looking up at Vesper. Her ears were half-mast, but her muzzle and the rest of her was stained red, all the same. There aren't any prisoners in war, she reminded herself, glancing down toward the body of the wolf who had fought for her life -- fought hard for her life.

<style>
@import url('http://sleepyglow.net/rp/post.css');
</style>[/html]
#10
[html]



Vesper is by Nat!

pp all the touchinggg. And do you feel better? <33

Darkness spilled onto the forest floor, creating an imperfect circle as the blood puddled, its shape warping more and more each second. The heaving body underneath her stilled, and her screaming fingers released the white wolf’s mane, leaving a smear of blood on the back of her unprotected head. She had to force herself to look up and meet the other’s turquoise gaze, sudden shame flooding through her. Even though this struggle had been both of theirs—or all three of theirs—she wished she wouldn’t have thrust the responsibility of the kill on the Consul, not after she’d had trouble with her first.

Wishes did not bring back the dead, and Vesper didn’t want the enemy to draw breath ever again. She forced herself onto her feet, clenching her fists with a wince. Her injuries were minor in this final battle; her shoulder was clawed and her arm bitten from the wolf she’d dispatched with her sister and the Salsolian, but otherwise she was unharmed. The mental catalogue of her hurts concluded quickly, and with a shaky breath she marched toward the tall, mahogany-haired woman.

Here, she murmured, and wrapped her thin arms around the other, realizing that the whole of her scarred body was trembling. She wasn’t in danger of collapsing from blood loss this time, though, and her fingers ran through the other’s tawny coat, leaving ruddy stains from her bleeding pads as she checked for injuries. Satisfied that the woman wouldn’t melt away, she grew still and nuzzled Myrika for both their comfort.


<style>
.vesNat {font-family:georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing:0px; word-spacing:2px; text-align: left; margin:0px auto; width:80%;}
.vesNat p {text-indent:50px; padding:0; margin:10px 0;}
.vesNat p.image {text-align:center; float:right; margin:10px; text-indent:0; font-size:10px; font-style:italic;}
.vesNat .txtooc {text-align:left; font-size:12px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:none; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal;}
.vesNat .word {font-weight:bold; font-style:normal; letter-spacing:1.5px;}
.vesNat b {letter-spacing:1px;}
.vesNat b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesNat b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
.vesNat b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
.vesNat u { text-decoration: underline; }
</style>
[/html]
#11
[html]

(307) GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE TOUCHINGGGG /myrika. Also, kinda sorta, still getting headaches, but they've at least been, like, okayish for the last four days or so. I am hoping they just go the hell away. :C Could end dis here if want!



Myrika is by Kiri!

Myrika would have done the same in the pale woman's place, fighting hard for her life, but she also wouldn't have gone around attacking coyotes, either. These wolves had provoked this, and this corpse belonged to them -- she'd defended her home and her clan, that was all. Even with these mantras echoing in her head, Myrika still could not help feeling remorse, guilt even. It hurt her stomach and gave it a strange churned feeling.

Blue eyes appraised Vesper from afar, uncertain of what ought to be said or done now. She did not have to decide, in the end, for the scarred woman came toward her and touched her, pale hands stained with red running over Myri's tawny body. The hybrid ached and hurt, certainly, but she felt no severe injuries, and was more concerned with the shake she felt in the hands of her Centurion than with her own person. When Vesper stilled, Myri wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, resting her chin on the scarred coyote's shoulder, gazing down at the sprawled wolf. She half turned them away so they might look on the fire -- it was death and destruction surely as the body of Saule, but at least it was prettier to look on.

<style>
#myrikaKiri {
font-family:georgia, serif;
font-size:12px;
width:95%;
margin:0px auto;
line-height:18px;
}
#myrikaKiri p {
text-indent:50px;
padding:0;
margin:10px 0;
}
#myrikaKiri p.sieImage {
text-align:center;
text-indent:0;
font-size:11px;
font-style:italic;
float:left; margin:5px;
}
#myrikaKiri p.sieImage + p:first-letter {
font-size:65px;
display:block;
float:left;
margin:5px;
}
#myrikaKiri p.sieImage + p { text-indent:0; }
#myrikaKiri .txtooc {
text-align:left;
font-size:12px;
font-family:georgia, serif
text-transform:none;
line-height:16px;
font-weight:normal; }
#myrikaKiri .txtooc .word { font-weight:bold; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:normal;}
#myrikaKiri b { letter-spacing:-.5px; }
#myrikaKiri u { text-decoration: underline; }
#myrikaKiri b:before { content: open-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myrikaKiri b:after { content: close-quote; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 15px; }
#myrikaKiri b.npc { letter-spacing:.5px; font-style:italic; font-weight:normal; }
</style>[/html]


Forum Jump: